ah crap. That was me that just applied for Gin. >.< I coulda sworn i was logged in. *head-desk*
Personal Journal: mikasaigo.livejournal.com
should match that info. Really sorry about that >.
Accepted, with the conditions we talked about on AIM. Go ahead and make your journal, then reply here using it to post your revised history, please. Join the communities and friend everyone, then you're all set.
2006-06-17 06:12 pm (UTC)
Hinamori App, part 2.
Writing Sample: "Order up! Hinamori, get your ass in gear!"
"Yes ma'am!" Spinning around with ease, the girl shifted through each table, having so keenly memorised the layout of the cafe. Balancing a tray in one hand and a pitcher in the other, she gave a sigh when she reached the cook's window. She set the tray down, and moved to refill the pitcher in the meantime, biting at the corner of her lip. Saturday nights were always busy; this night, however, was terribly important because of the entertainment that had booked the cafe.
She found it odd that, before that night, they'd never booked any entertainment. Then again, the cafe had never before been so packed. Maybe she was out of the loop, but she had no idea why at least fifty people (and more lining up outside) were so excited to see some pretty boy on an acoustic guitar. What had they become, a night club!?
"Table six, Hinamori! Stop bein' damn so slow!"
"Yes, ma'am!" She picked up the tray with ease, heading over towards her designated table with the same grace she had held that entire night, as far as maneuvering through the room went. In fact, that night had been a rather nice night, and she gotten an even nicer amount of tips. She was easily carrying over $100 with her by that time. And if she kept going at this rate--
She shrieked, falling forward, watching in horror as the food, the plates, the silverware, and the pitcher full of cola went crashing to the floor. Now drenched in the sticky u=substance -- god, she hated coke -- she looked back to see a man grinning down at her in amusement, his hand drawing back from where it had grabbed her. That jerk! Her eyes widened and she moved to stand, but before she could do much of anything--
"Hinamori." She bit her lip.
"You can turn in for the night."
Journal Entry: I can't believe it. That's never, ever happened before. I mean, of course it was a busy night, but I didn't expect anyone to be so -- so -- ugh! If I could've shown him a peice of my mind..
But now I have to wait from a call from my manager. She's so angry with me right now; she wouldn't even look at me when she told me to leave.
Does she even know what happened!? I feel so low right now. I shouldn't have freaked out like that, but I couldn't help it. I mean, you just don't expect for a guy to randomly just-- well, you know.
I really need sleep. A bath sounds really nice, too.. maybe if one of the boys isn't taking up all the hot water, I'll sneak a bath tonight. I can pay them back tommorow by making breakfast, I think. And if not, I can.. I don't know, take over one of the other bills, or something.
I wonder if Izuru's free tonight.. I know I can trust him when I need to vent.
.. Oh, god, what if I lose my job!?
2006-06-19 01:40 am (UTC)
Re: Hinamori App, part 2.
Accepted. Make sure you've read all the rules, the FAQ, etc., and then make a journal and join no_air
Also, on a side note--we felt that the journal entry was a little bit lacking; the "oh no have I lost my job?" bit is a rather cliché scenario, and there could have been a little more depth (although we all, at times, write entries that are goofy/short/lackluster). Additionally, Momo seems to be a person whose character seems greatly dictated by the actions of others. We suggest you speak to any character you believe Momo has had a history with. Remember--canon ties aren't necessarily important; canon personalities
It'd been a quarter after 11 when Jyuushirou finally made it home. The walk from clinic to apartment, he decided, wasn't nearly as refreshing as he thought it'd be, but it was a great cardio workout in any case. At the moment, however, Jyuushirou wanted nothing more than to get into the measly room, fall into his bed, and crash.
Halfway through the key-turn, it came to him. The all-too familiar pain seized his chest, the violent coughing following quickly afterward. It lasted for only eight seconds, but left him on the ground and feeling as if it went on for days. But despite it all, Jyuushirou continued to fumble with the key, almost desperately. He stumbled into his apartment, skipping the bed all together and settling for the portion of his floor that had carpet.
He spared a moment, just a moment, before he pushed himself back up, wiping at the sweat along his brow with an idle hand. He put his coat on the chair and his keys on the counter, and tried to remember where he put his slippers again this time.
Just another day.
Yesterday, a patient told me he wanted to die. That he was tired, so tired, of trying to live when life refused to work with him. Of trying to move on when your own legs won't move for you. He'd had enough; of the pain, the struggle, the constant question of, "Is this the end?"
It was odd, staring back at myself.
I told him I woke up that morning.
He stared at me and asked what that had to do with anything.
Then I smiled and told him, "Everything".
He didn't come back today.
2006-06-18 02:21 am (UTC)
Re: Ukitake Jyuushirou, take two
Hey there, accepted. Go ahead and make a journal and reply to this comment with it, then sign up to the community, friend everyone etc.
One note: In general we'd like journal entries to be a little more in depth. Three decent paragraphs tends to be around the average. Thanks!
Kuukaku was rather proud of her apartment's newest decoration. Two ceramic arms reached out of the window, smugly displaying a red sign with white letters that read SHIBA KUUKAKU LIVES HERE. It was only a matter of time before the landlord would come knocking though -- not to compliment her amazing decorations, but because she had put a hole in the roof the night before while testing out her newest firework.
"Shiba!" Her landlord was a hideous man who, if not for the fact she was missing an arm and played with gunpowder for a living, would probably would have hit on her. "I told you to get rid of those ridiculous—things hanging out of your window!! You're blocking a fire escape and it's ugly as hell! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!!"
She grinned. So predictable. "Good, because you know I just love trouble." Air compression machines were too clean for Kuukaku, too safe, too boring. She loaded the firework with gunpowder instead. "If you don't like it don't fucking look at it you old perv."
Most display shells are generally detonated in the air using an electronic timer, but Kuukaku was of the mind that electronic timers were for pussies. Loading shells is a "delicate process" and is supposed to be done with caution. A loader must ensure not only the mortar is clean, but also make sure that no part of their body is directly over the mortar in case of a premature fire.
But really, what's the fun in that?
"I WANT YOU OUT IN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES OR I'M CALLING THE COPS!"
"Yes, yes." She finally opened the door. "A parting gift." She handed the bewildered man the firework, ran the match down her prosthetic arm, lit the tiny firework and shut the door behind her.
An ominous boom echoed down the hall.
After all, if she was going to go out, she might as well go out with a bang.
In honor of 4th of July (the single most important day of the year for a pyrotechnic) I made my minion—I mean my little brother put up a very festive American flag in fluorescent lights outside of our fire escape. If all goes as planned, it will blink SHIBA KUUKAKU'S FLAG and sing patriotic songs until the next holiday. Urahara will either look the other way or he might get a kick out of it and encourage more decorations to piss off the neighbors; he's a bastard like that. If any of you have a problem with my inventiveness, you can come here and I will personally handle this issue. And when I say handle, I mean kick your ass until you forget what you came here for.
There's gotta be some delinquents in this building who want to set off fireworks on the 4th of July. Screw lame barbecues. If there aren't any I will be greatly disappointed with the lack of guts and balls of the people here! Kids these days, they have no sense of adventure!! What's the fun in watching fireworks from afar when you can see them from three feet away? Maybe I will give them a little preview and set off some of my amazing fireworks and show them how it's done. I think I'll send some through that kid Kurosaki's wall—he's a fun guy and will DEFINITELY throw a shit fit over it.
I love my job.
2006-06-18 02:27 am (UTC)
Re: Kuukaku App Part 2~
Accepted, with the proviso that you tone down the firework stunts to a realistic level. Please make your journal and reply to this comment with it, thenjoin up, friend people, get a room, etc.
Writing Sample: The air in the small room in the basement of the local church was thick with something Shizune couldn't identify. Tension? Guilt? She failed to put her finger on it. Lingering at the doorway, she wondered if she was really here. How had this happened to her? All she ever wanted was to help people.
"Are you here for the meeting?"
Step four was to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of herself, and, in the end, she had come up short. Someone from the clinic had suggested AA. You can't even begin to help other people if you can't help yourself. She nodded and took a seat in the back, trying to keep her breath steady, her pulse from racing. It's not such a bad thing to ask for help, she told herself. A check mark added to step four, maybe. She wondered how many she needed before she could go on.
"Would anyone like to share how their week went?"
Today, she would only observe. Maybe next week she would work on step five – admitting the exact nature of her wrongs – but for now, this was okay. The was the beginning of something new, something good, something that could turn her life around. However accidentally she had fallen, it was time to dust herself off and get right back up.
She smiled. Step four -- obliterated.
Subject: Step One -- We admit we were powerless —that our lives had become unmanageable.
The job situation is becoming dire. While Tsunade is at work, I have nothing to do but sit in the apartment, staring at my computer, the walls, or the list of twelve steps displayed prominently on the refrigerator. I flipped through the want-ads yesterday and called three places – an office supply store, a pet shop and the perfume counter at the local department store. That last one will be a last resort – I am deathly allergic to any and all perfumes.
I had my interview at the pet shop this morning and it was pleasant enough. They offer pretty exotic animals – there was even a pig wandering around, if you can believe it – and the employees seemed very friendly. The office supply store was less attractive in terms of both atmosphere and work environment, but the rent needs to be paid. I'll take anything that's offered. They also offer an employee discount on office supplied, and, to be honest, I love office supplies.
With my history, it's going to be very difficult to get back into the medical field, but I think, in my free time, I'm going to start volunteering at the local hospital again. It will be my first step – taking the power back, doing what I want to do. However, I don't want to do too much too quickly, as I still need to hang around to make sure Tsunade keeps herself out of trouble. I think she takes delight in worrying me and she knows just the right buttons to push. It's nearly cruel!
She opened her home and her life to me, however, so I mostly suffer in silence. I really do owe her everything and it is a debt I will probably work my whole life to repay.
Time to work on step two: believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
I wonder if chocolate ice cream counts.
Accepted. Make, join, friend, comment back here, etc.
2006-06-20 01:19 am (UTC)
Re: Hitsugaya Toushirou Application: Part three (wouldn't fit D:), Journal entry
Hey, accepted - with a few revisions to Hitsugaya's history that you'll need to get on AIM and talk to us about (mostly how advanced he is, the rent issue). My aim is wasoncedelight - I think I missed you earlier? You can make a journal, but if you could wait until you've spoken to me before joining the communities, that would be awesome.
PB wise, the original Hitsugaya used a young Devon Sawa. Once you're signed up, asking for suggestions in the OOC can be a good way to go.
Ukon application.. not Sakon, and part two at that. Someone shoot me.
He must have caught lice again – his head simply would not stop itching; one hand seemingly fixated with digging grubby, uneven fingernails against his scalp, raking down from just past his right temple and lifting up where his hairline ended behind his ear to start the process anew. It wasn’t rewarding work by any means, the infuriating tingling sensation of *something* crawling across his flesh returning mere seconds later, regardless of whether or not the feeling was simply imagined or not.
Digging his hand hard enough to make the skin hurt along the trail his nails left, Ukon pulled the limb away to inspect what, if anything, might have been caught by his fingertips: dandruff and a bit of dirt, but nothing that indicated any kind of bug. Flicking his flingers together and wiping them offhanded upon the faded and patched cloth of his pants, he placed the slender appendage upon the hand-rail of the staircase, admiring briefly how smooth the wood was, worn to a silken polish (despite the faded color) by hundreds of hands traveling upon it.
In another time or place he might have been repulsed by the thought of who or what might have slide along the rail, but as it were, he was simply grateful the apparent sturdiness of the guide. The day had been long enough to cause his legs to ache despite his youth and being able to support himself upon something was a well received relief, especially since the distinctive squeak of each stair was making him rather doubtful of the apartment building’s relative safety.
But what could one expect at the price in which he paid for the rooms? A pair of boys that had been homeless for over a year now with a place to stay and with enough extra money to perhaps afford to stock the place with a few groceries – it couldn’t bode well for the quality of both structure and tenants.
Curling his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the teen peered out from behind his artlessly styled mop of dirty hair further along the staircase toward his brother; always several paces ahead it would seem, for the elder to continually follow his younger brother, a shadow that remained mute until it deigned the situation worthy of his attention. It was amusing to watch how the boy nearly bounced along the stairs, learned caution and excitement fighting for dominance in his attitude.
He mounted the last step for that particular landing, the second of which the pair had come across, meaning only two more flights of stairs remained to ascend before they reached the floor of their rooms. Shifting more of his weight against the rail, he leaned over it, peering upward, the minuscule bulk of the stolen duffle bag of the twin’s worldly belongings brushing against the wooden bars with the scratchy whine of cheap canvas. Ukon abhorred that sound – even before the pitiful thing had more or less become their sole bag…
Wrinkling his nose, he gazed at the remaining stairs, noting a strip of carpet peeling away from one of the steps with mild alarm – his brother was tramping upward still, after all.
“Sakon – you should wat–-“
The distinctive thud of a small body tripping forward, cut off the elder twin; his words simply left were they as they were, no need to finish his sentence, it was too late anyway.
Peeling himself away from the rail, he moved to go assist the boy in getting back to his feet – this time they would simply walk together, no need for one or the other to trip again.
Monday, June 11, 2006
Time.. a little past nine in evening.
After living a transient life for what, at the time, seemed to have been forever, it is an odd experience to come to a place and expect to make a home of it. There isn’t much as far as belongings go to really make it feel as though it belongs to us, a few tattered sets of clothing and a spare set of shared shoes – but nothing in terms of knickknacks or collectables. Everything else here, the furniture and vague attempts at bedding and cheap decoration were all leftovers of previous tenants or supplied by the landlord. Things that scream with the presence and personality of someone else.
Maybe with time it will feel as though we belong, but as it is, I am grateful for a roof that will remain permanent for at least a month.
It’s quiet here though, blessedly so, and warm. Stifling, really, but I don’t mind the heat – cool (or even lukewarm) water and an open window will suffice.
The shelter was always so noisy and no matter the season, bitterly cold. (Perhaps the cold reduced the smell of so many unwashed bodies?) The addicts and children would always wail, either due to the pain of withdrawal or hunger…or some other inexplicable reason. In any case, it seems absent here, though, in place of screams and general murmuring, the whirring of fans and soft sounds of music has taken hold. Audible, but not intrusive.
Is that David Bowie..?
Regardless, it seems Sakon has made himself comfortable, scribbling away at whatever it is he is writing – perhaps a job application. (Reminds me, I need to go and start picking up some..) That is one thing I am glad that I invested a bit of money into – paper and pencils.. Writing, even if it’s silly journal entries, help keep the mind sharp and focused off the unpleasantries of everyday life. Cheap entertainment and it allows him to continue to try and script musical scores even without an instrument.
It is disconcerting overlooking previous entries in my own stack of paper, reading over failed attempts at holding a job and various means of obtaining money…
I wonder where the other residents are employed..? There must be some kind of job market available if everyone is able to afford the rent here..
Accepted. Please make sure you've read the rules and the FAQ, and then join no_air
2006-06-20 04:21 am (UTC)
I'm not a perv. I swear.
When the door bell jingled a couple of times, Risa looked up from her hentai, adjusting her glasses so she could get a good look at her customers. She had been interrupted by three wide-eyed boys who couldn't have been older than 15. Although she had worked at the shop for four years, watching first-timers was still her favorite thing to do.
Risa put her reading material down and gave them a little smirk, "What can I help you with today, boys?" When they didn't respond, she got up from her swivel chair behind the dildo and vibrator counter, walking up to them with her arms folded across her chest. Risa should have kicked the boys out by now because they were minors, but she was in a good mood today. She slid past the dumbfounded boys to the Playboy section and took the latest edition off the shelf, handing it to one of them.
"Is this what you were looking for?" she asked plainly, raising an eyebrow at them, "I'll be nice today and not card you." That's when Risa noticed their eyes. All three of them were undressing her with them, one with his eyes on the front of her shirt just below the uniform bow, one at the thigh exposed under her pleated skirt, and the other at the rest of her exposed legs. Risa liked to wear her old school uniform because she felt sexy in it, but she had just enough modesty not to let them gape at her in front of her face like dumbasses. "I take that back!" she growled, tearing the magazine out of their hands and shoving them towards the door, "Don't come back until you're mature enough to control your loins!"
When they still refused to budge from their stupor, she sighed and pulled up her already exposing skirt to reveal a set of small knives held together by a red, lacy garter belt. As soon as the door slammed behind them, Risa chuckled lightly to herself, shaking her head and returning to her hentai.
I don't pay for my journal, so we're going to do this the old-fashioned way - reply with comments to this post.
POLL: What is your favorite position?
I'd list some, but who knows what kinda freaky-deaky stuff you guys are into
not that being freaky is a bad thing...
So yesterday I was watching my daily dose of porn and Hiyori freaked out. She started shrieking and throwing plastic bowls at me from the little corner we call the "dining room." She said she'd never watched "that crap" before, but that must have been a lie. I've been around people long enough to know that people who've never seen porn before are glued to the screen at first glance - only people who've seen porn before can recognize it as quickly as she did.
Anyway, when she realized that I had the ice cream bucket with me she tried walking over to the couch with a pillow over her face so she couldn't see the TV screen. I thought I'd have fun with it and walked around the couch on the other side so she couldn't see me. After walking around the couch 5 times she finally gave up and sat down with me to watch the last half of "My Big Fat Greek Cock." She says she didn't enjoy it, but I know better.
2006-06-20 02:48 pm (UTC)
Re: I'm not a perv. I swear.
Hey, we actually enjoy your Vaizard app more than the Tatsuki one. So, we'd like to accept, but we just want to make sure that Lisa becomes a fully developed, round character (which was originally why we shied away from Vaizard apps in the first place; they ran the risk of only being caricatures). So basically, we really want a lot of depth. Additionally, just make sure you're watching your tenses as you write--they seem to shift a bit here and there.
So, accepted. Create a journal and join no_air
2006-06-24 04:59 am (UTC)
Re: Orochimaru, Take One
We'd definitely like to see the second half, when you get a chance.
2006-06-26 03:10 am (UTC)
Re: Gaara Application Part Two
Hey, thanks for applying, but not quite what we're looking for.
Not quite what we're looking for, but thanks for applying.
Hey Mich-- I'm afraid we already have someone cast as Chizuru. :/
There are plenty of open characters from both the Bleach and Naruto 'verses, though. Hopefully someone else will catch your interest.
2006-06-25 08:01 am (UTC)
Application, Part Two
“Yo, Hisagi, you got closing duty tonight.”
Shit. “Yeah, got it.” Shuuhei absently wiped down the countertop as his boss shuffled out the door. Leaving an employee alone to close the bar probably wasn’t a good idea in this neighborhood, but the boss had long since ceased to care. He had a mistress to get to, anyway. Frowning to himself, Shuuhei leaned on his elbows and studied his reflection in the mirrored ceiling.
Had it really been that long? He narrowed his eyes as if it would help him see the scars more clearly, three narrow lines running from his hairline to his jaw. Most of the women who came in here and hit on him found them, along with the ‘69’ tattoo, somehow alluring, but Shuuhei couldn’t help but be reminded of what he had done to earn those scars.
No, there was nothing alluring about them. Instead, they were a reminder of what he had almost lost, of the road he had followed that had almost led to his own self-destruction. Those scars kept him sane.
“Hey, there, handsome,” a low, smooth voice said.
He looked down as a hand slid across the counter towards him. He stepped back, raising a brow at the woman sitting at the bar, her long brown hair and blood red lips silently promising a good time.
“Sorry, miss, we’re about to close,” he said impassively. They were all the same, looking for a good fuck, and Shuuhei was already tired of her type. Shit, when was the last time he’d gotten laid?
“You’re such a grump,” she teased, biting down on her bottom lip seductively.
“You got that right.” He reached for a glass and cleaned it out, if only to prove how busy he was. Too bad there was almost nobody else in the bar. Real fucking busy.
The woman scoffed and said flatly, “Fine. Just get me Bloody Mary.”
How appropriate. Eyeing the dirty clock over his shoulder, he counted twelve minutes until closing time and turned back forward. “Sorry, lady, but we’re closed.”
So they would close a little early tonight, like he gave a flying fuck. It wasn’t as if he was getting any tips from this broad, anyway.
She scoffed again and huffed out of the bar, the few other scattered patrons picking up on her lead and swerving out the door, save for one of the regulars. He was slumped over in his seat for Christ knows how many nights in a row, and Shuuhei resisted the urge to groan. Drunk off his ass. Again.
“Yo, Gar. Time to go, buddy.”
Silence. After making sure he was still breathing, Shuuhei heaved Gar over his shoulders and tossed him out the door so that he was sprawled on the sidewalk. He would most likely get pickpocketed in the time it took Shuuhei to close up, but he would survive. There was a hospital a few blocks away in the direction of Shuuhei’s apartment, so it wasn’t too out of his way to haul Gar over there before calling it a night.
He mopped the floors and wiped down the counters, stacking clean glasses next to the taps and finally switching off the lights.
Happy Anniversary, Shuuhei. Eight years of sobriety down the drain.
“Well, fuck, Gar. You really messed yourself up this time, man.”
This new apartment is something else. It’s always been hotter than hell in this town, but this complex is something along the lines of a boiler room. It doesn’t help that all the shit is broken, including the air conditioner. It’s almost a relief just to go outside.
I went out to the park after unpacking all of my crap, the one in the middle of the city where I used to spend the night when my parents blew out of town. At least there it’s easier to breathe and relatively quiet. I used to like that place a lot before, because it was dark at night and it was easy to dodge the cops, but now it’s kinda lost its value or whatever. Sure, it’s nice, I guess, but that’s pretty much it. Shit, it was just nice to get out of the apartment for a while before I headed to work. I swear, every place in this town is dark and broken down and cramped. This apartment, the bar, every other place in this whole goddamned city.
But the park is actually halfway alright.
Time for work.
2006-06-29 09:55 pm (UTC)
Re: Application, Part Two
Thanks for your application, we have had multiple applications for Shuuhei, and it's a really hard choice, so we were wondering if we could talk to you over AIM about the character, as we try to establish which fits better into Lysgar.
The mods can be reached at flyagainstfate or wasoncedelight on AIM, if this is ok.
2006-06-29 09:57 pm (UTC)
Re: Sado Yasutora application pt2
Hi, thanks very much for your application. I'm afraid it's not quite what we're looking for for Chad.
Yawning and tucking the mail under his left arm, Shuuhei retrieved the keys to his apartment from his pocket, unlocked the door and wrestled it open.
Damn door. Need to get that fixed, he thought, shooting it a dark glare as he pushed it shut.
Flicking on the lights, he walked into the kitchen, deposited his keys on the counter and was sorting through his mail when his cell phone rang. Flipping it open, he tucked it between his ear and his shoulder. “Shuuhei here,” he mumbled distractedly as he continued shuffling through his mail.
“Shuuhei?” a small voice inquired, tremulously.
Shuuhei froze mid-shuffle. “Who is this? What’s wrong?”
Monique…Monique…who—isn’t that Frankie’s girlfriend? Has she been crying?
“Monique? What happened?”
“It’s Frankie. He—the idiot went and got himself shot! Oh God!” her voice cut off abruptly as she began to sob.
Shit. Oh shit. Shuuhei’s heart began to pound and he fought to keep his voice level. “Monique? Monique, calm down, sweetheart. Tell me exactly what happened.”
The girl on the other line gave a little hiccup before answering. “We…we was just walking. That’s it! We wasn’t doing nothing! We was just walking and the—his boys from the old gang…they just walked up and shot him right in the middle of the street. And then they ran and…oh God! Ohgodohgodohgod!” She dissolved in tears again.
Shuuhei sat down hard, clinging desperately to what remained of his composure. “Ok. It’s ok.” Liar, it’s not ok. “Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“I’m at the hospital. His ma’s here too and she…she’s not doing too good. Oh God, Shuuhei! You gotta come down here! I don’t know what to do! No one won’t tell us nothing but I don’t think he’s gonna make it! Please come. Please!”
Shuuhei leapt up and snatched his keys, making for the door. “I’m leaving right now. Just stay calm until I get there, ok? I’ll just be a few minutes.”
A sniffle. “O-ok. Please hurry!” Click. And the line went dead.
Shit. Just…shit. Shuuhei tore out the door, slamming it shut behind him before charging down the stairs. Please let him make it. Please let him make it.
He didn’t make it.
This kid, Frankie…he’s been in the program for 6 months. 6 months he’s been getting himself clean. Got his girlfriend, Monique, out of the life as well. Last night, as he and his girl were walking home, some of the guys he ran with from his old gang came up, shot him twice in the chest and bolted. As I understand it, the police are still looking for them. Monique called me from the hospital just a few minutes after I’d walked in the door, begging me to come down as quickly as possible. I think I broke at least a dozen traffic laws getting there and by the time I’d arrived, Frankie’d been in surgery about 2 hours.
Monique was a mess. She was covered in Frankie’s blood and she couldn’t stop crying. His mother, Lisa, wasn’t doing much better. About an hour later, the doctors came out of the emergency room with the bad news.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but it never seems to get easier. Need to take out the suit again. Funeral’s Saturday. Goddamn…
They aren’t going to find them. The police here are dirty as all hell and they don’t give a shit about the kids on these streets.
Had nightmares last night. Frankie’s death reminded me of my own fear that someone, either from my old gang or from a rival one, will come after me or someone else close to me. At least the “69” on my face is gone, but the other tattoos are still there and hell, it’s not like I blend in with the crowd. Sometimes I worry about my decision to not keep a low profile…
2006-06-29 09:57 pm (UTC)
Re: Writing Samples for Shuuhei!
Thanks for your application, we have had multiple applications for Shuuhei, and it's a really hard choice, so we were wondering if we could talk to you over AIM about the character, as we try to establish which fits better into Lysgar.
The mods can be reached at flyagainstfate or wasoncedelight on AIM, if this is ok.
"Come on, Retsu, move your ass," her boss griped at her, waving his big meaty hand at her to get a move on.
"I'm goin', Larry, I'm goin'," Unohana Retsu grunted back, moving as quickly as she could to scoop up the tray and put it atop her shoulder. The semi-casual restaurant Applejacks was booming this evening, everyone here to celebrate one thing or another or to have a nice dinner that didn't cost an arm and a leg. She'd been on her feet all night, serving and taking orders.
She smiled at the family she was serving, a nice little group that came in here about every other week for a chance for them to get out of the house and into an air conditioned environment. Wishing the four to enjoy their meal, she scampered off back to the kitchen to get another order.
She'd been doing this the past year, working for Larry and living in his apartment for the past month or so. Okay, so it sounded as bad as it some times looked, but honestly, she was more likely to jump into bed with Biggs the dishwasher. Larry, too, she thought with a large dose of amusement as she picked up yet another tray of food to take out into the crowd. Biggs was a big guy, nice, but only Larry knew his real name. But he was a nice guy who was just as likely to slip into bed with their boss as he was the tiny Mary who was the world's fastest drink mixer, or so she claimed.
The entire staff at the restaurant was like a dysfunctional family, and it reminded Retsu sometimes painfully of her parents and her girls. It was nice, though, and it was good work.
She'd had a long year, trying to keep up with the pace of the restaurant and grieve her dead husband to whom she hadn't said one 'I love you' before the day he died. Regret wouldn’t get her anywhere, though, so she had never really dwelled on it too much.
Shaking herself in time to barely miss tripping over her own feet, she quickly made her way through the crowd to the back-corner booth that Gina had been serving earlier before she'd passed out and was taken to the hospital.
"My goodness, Retsu! I didn't expect to see you here!" Surprised, Retsu nearly dropped the tray she was carrying again, ending up plopping it on the table much harder than was policy.
"Momma!" She blinked at the boisterous woman and her father, sitting side-by-side and across from her two girls. "Hana, Raina! Look at you, you've grown!" She shifted nervously, still holding half the tray to keep it from spilling to the floor.
Both girls blinked at her and then Hana, sweet little Hana who had the disposition of an angel most of the time, smiled at her with that beaming smile that reminded Retsu of why she was working here. Raina scowled at her a little, but it was to be expected and she didn't mind so much since she could see the brand new shoes that the girls were wearing. It made it all worth while at the end of the day.
"How're you, child?" Retsu's mother asked, putting a hand on her daughter's arm. "You look so tired! Sit down and eat with us!" the woman ordered and Retsu would have loved to follow it like she had when she was younger, but...
"I can't, momma, I'm on the clock," she told her family regretfully, handing out the plates with practiced ease.
"You just don't wanna see us," Raina mumbled, sticking her fork into her mouth to hide her scowl.
"No, baby, that's not true," Retsu told her daughter sadly, giving a pet to each of her twins' heads in that manner that all mothers seemed to have. "I'm working so you won't have to later," she told them, continuing to stroke both of their heads. Raina's head dropped and Retsu knew that the outburst had been temporarily contained.
"Retsu! Get back to work; no slacking over there!" Larry yelled across the room and Retsu cringed a little at his tone. She sighed, shaking her head.
"I need to get back to work; it was good seeing you all," she told them with a warm, happy smile, before heading back to the kitchen with her empty tray.
As she walked around the room, handing out food and taking more orders, the customers could all notice a small bounce in her step.
2006-06-28 09:00 pm (UTC)
Re: Section Two (part 1)
Hi, thanks for your application.
We didn't really feel that the character set out here fits well with Unohana's canon persona. Unohana is one of the longer serving and more responsible Captains in the Gotei 13, and translating that to real life, we'd expect her life to be a bit more together (and that she would probably be older). Obviously that makes her harder to slot into Lysgar, but being together doesn't necessarily mean being well off.
So we're going to say no on this one. However I'd be happy to invite you to reapply, either with another character that interests you, or a reworking of Unohana.
Apologies for the delay, and the rather uninspired writings below.
Orochimaru leaned on the counter, watching yet another overweight, balding, sweaty man try to waddle nonchalantly towards the ever so tasteful ‘porn hole’, as the employees had dubbed it. E-Z RENTZ tried to serve a wide clientele, and unfortunately that included the 35-year-old interns who still lived in their mother’s basement.
One eye was twitching, although whether from aggravation or sleep deprivation he wasn’t sure. One of his co-workers, a chain-smoking bleach job named Debby or Betty, something bland and All American like that, had pulled a sick day, forcing him to take both the afternoon shift as well as his own normal time. The cash register wasn’t working, some ass had returned two empty DVD cases (god, how stupid did people think the employees were?) and had viciously defended his excuse that they’d ‘been thar when ah left th’ house t’ bring ‘em back.’
He felt angry and tired and dirty. Luckily, the green glowing digits on his watch promised him a timely escape; he could kick out the deadbeats in half an hour, close up, then go home and sanitize himself. The feeling of a days worth accumulated grime made his skin crawl, and, hidden in the sleeves of his slightly oversized shirt, his fingers twitched with the urge to scratch at the phantom itch that accompanied dried sweat and anxiety.
Hells, he really needed a cup of coffee.
Hate my job. Hate hate hate hate hate. Filthy customers, filthy working conditions, crap pay. Only perk going so far is night shift. Sadly, this seems to be when the perverts come out to play. During the day its
crack whores single mothers dragging their screaming progeny through the aisles as they search for the latest Dieppe wankfest. At night it’s the unwashed, overweight closeted pervert wearing huge coats (oh, as though THAT doesn’t scream ‘look, I like pornography!’ Ugh.) brushing past the beaded curtain for the latest in oversized tits and muscle-bound drop-outs with spray-on tans.
PS- Renew prescriptions, running low on Klonopin.
2006-06-28 08:48 pm (UTC)
Re: Orochimaru, Take Two
Hi, thanks for the application, but it's not quite what we're looking for.
Naruto was a man of simple taste. A roof over his head, a cup-o-noodle in his cupboard and maybe a bed to sleep in, and he was happy. He shifted his weight as he approached the campus.
College. Now this was a place he'd never thought to find himself. He was obviously an awesome vocalist, a great guitarist, and his lyrics kicked ass. Not that he much bothered for other opinions. But, as with just about everything in life, training was key. Maybe that's why he hadn't been noticed yet. He needed to get back to basics. Even if it meant swallowing his pride and taking some beginner courses in music theory at this college... place.
He licked his lips as he approached the counter. "Hey! I'm here to take some classes!" He said with a wide smile, his eyes reflecting the excitement in his voice. The woman in front of him seemed a bit startled, but handed him the paperwork. Ah... paperwork.
Paperwork was like... a declaration of war, at least in his opinion. So many times he'd felt paperwork was such a daunting task. So boring. So pointless. But if he battled his way through it, he could finally get what he wanted. And so he persisted. Name? Well, that was an easy one. Age? Another simple question. Perhaps the enemy was trying to trick him into a sense of security. Place of birth? Aha, a little bit sneakier. Grade Point Average? Ah! A critical hit! The enemy was well prepared.
It took a while, but he got the application form filled out. He waited in line and slammed it on the front counter, a sense of victory in his smile. "Take that!"
How weird is this?! I'm actually stoked to be going back to school! I never thought I'd say that. Man! They actually offer classes just about any time of day. The beginning guitar I'll have to force myself out of bed for, since it's at ten in the morning. Who gets up that early? But there was an afternoon music theory class, so at least a couple days a week I won't have to get up early.
So I totally SCORED with this new apartment. It's dirt cheap! And it's still standing so it can't be that bad. I slept in a dumpster once, but never again! I woke up just reekin'. Mighta been why my audition didn't go so well... ANYWAY! I got a good feelin' about this place. Things are gonna start lookin' up. I mean, something good's bound to happen sooner or later, right?
Naruto out! Laterz!
2006-06-28 09:12 pm (UTC)
Re: geek, part two
You know the drill on getting a journal, comment back here with it, join up and friend up.
If you could contact Iruka's player, it might be nice to have some backstory with those two. Also, you'll need to talk to Sasuke's player (aim is filmingrevenge ) about whether Naruto has been living in the apartment for a while (preferable, since we never really mentioned the last one moving out) or what. I am sure Sasuke will be delighted to have someone to complain about again.
We're also taking you off trial as Gin - I think you're doing great with him.
Journal Entry- Take 2
Things’ve been busy. The paperwork is a necessary evil, as usual. What I wouldn’t give for a Komamura of my own.
City hall’s finally cooperating and preliminary talks with the health clinics in the city have been favorable. It’s the police department that’s been a real pain in the ass. It was like we were pulling teeth when we came over to discuss the gang situation. They weren’t much obliged to tell us anything, mostly talking in circles, and when we finally convinced them to let us see their files, turns out they’re about a year out-of-date. Word is that most of the department is corrupt and I’m inclined to agree. Looks like Javy and I will have to go walking the streets; see if we can’t find someone willing to tell us what the situation’s like.
All my entries lately have been about work. People must think I’m boring. Then again, working is all I’ve been doing lately. Maybe I should take up an invitation to go out to dinner with some of the other staff. Or maybe get to know some of my neighbors. They’re a…friendly bunch. Eh, I’ve never been the social sort. Even back then, I kept mostly to Aoga and Kanisawa.
So…get a social life AND do my job.
Man. It’s just…it’s a lot. There’s so much to do, and so much to juggle. I’m trying to learn the ropes of running a program as fast as I can. I’m just relieved that I only take care of part of the responsibilities. But Tousen thinks I can do this and so does everyone else. So…I can do this.
I can do this.
2006-07-04 05:21 pm (UTC)
Re: Shuuhei Writing Sample, Pt 2
Accepted. Thanks for all the work you put into this, and welcome to the game. Go ahead and make a journal for Shuuhei, then comment back here with it. After that you can go ahead and join up, friend everyone and choose yourself an apartment.
2006-06-30 10:15 pm (UTC)
Kurotsuchi Nemu, part 2
The plastic bags rustled as she set them down on the threadbare carpet of her bedroom. Reaching over to flick on the floor lamp she gazed at the space, just as bare as the rest of her apartment.
Not that this bothered Nemu. She preferred simplicity over complexity, and saw no reason to clutter her living space with items that she would not need. Materialism had never been encouraged by her father--physical property could be taken, lost, whereas intellectual property was something no one could touch.
She picked up one of the bags, extracting a set of plain cream colored sheets. She set these on the dresser, along with a package of matching pillowcases and a heavy package containing a dark green coverlet. Plastic bag now empty she set it on the floor, picking up the second, larger bag and extracting two plump pillows from it. She set these on the bed, picking up the empty bag she'd discarded a moment ago and throwing both of these in the trashcan in the bathroom connected to her bedroom.
She unwrapped the sheets, not really thinking of anything except the process of making the bed. She concentrated on this mundane task, going through the steps as if she were constructing a bomb rather than making a bed, as if each step could not possibly be skipped. Methodical, thorough, just as her father had taught her to be.
Fitted sheet, the edges tucked perfectly under the corners of her mattress. Sheet, measuring the top of it so that it is completely even, a perfect line at the top of the bed, the edges on both sides hanging equally, then folding the bottom under the mattress. Smoothing her palms over the sheet Nemu picked up the package containing the matching pillowcases, flicking them out and sheathing the pillows into the material. Both these were placed at the top of the bed. The coverlet she unfolded and stretched over the full size mattress. Symmetry was important--having an even amount of material on both sides ensured that any moving around under the covers would not result in loss of warmth.
Judging by her limited exposure, however, the coverlet will more often than not end up folded at the foot of the bed, unneeded in the sweltering confines of 311 Lysgar Street. But, forever a creature of habit drilled into her since the beginning of her life, Nemu couldn't not have a coverlet on her bed.
It's a contradiction, in a sense, and Nemu was aware of it. Aware that owning something such as a coverlet, which may never have a purpose to serve, went against everything she was taught. Waste not, want not--if you did not need it then you did not possess it.
She didn't need this coverlet, she supposed. At least, not right now. Maybe someday, though, such a thing might be needed.
Perhaps she was preparing. Just in case.
How is one expected to gain experience necessary for employment if no one will hire you unless you have experience? If you follow the thought back far enough it's plainly apparent that, at some point, everyone started out with no work history somewhere. How, then, did they manage to get their first job in order to establish a string of experience? Is there a secret to this I don't know?
A conundrum, to be sure.
It doesn't help that a lot of my past is not open for probing. I think it garners distrust in potential employers. Telling them the truth will hardly help, though.
How much experience does one need make food?
2006-07-04 04:54 pm (UTC)
Re: Kurotsuchi Nemu, part 2
Accepted, with the proviso that the history can potentially be tweaked if we do get a Mayuri, etc.
Go ahead and make a journal, then reply to this post. After that you can join the communities and frend everybody. Thanks!
2006-07-04 04:47 pm (UTC)
Re: Nara Shikamaru App Part the Second
Accepted; make a journal and join both no_air
. Just a note: since you have two characters now, we'll expect a post a week, from either of your characters (i.e. Hitsugaya one week and Shikamaru the next).
2006-07-04 04:12 pm (UTC)
Zaku Application part 2
Zaku yawned loudly from his place behind the counter, lazily leaning on his elbows and resting his whole weight against it. Head down, he was more or less reading the articles in a magazine he’d already given a glance over the images in. Aforementioned reading material was a new issue of Playboy. Eyes at half mast, he was leisurely educating himself on the turn ons/turn offs of the blonde haired centerfold when a slight tinkling sound of a bell signaled the entrance of a customer. The subsequent stampede of tiny footsteps as well as squealing laughter also indicated they were not alone.
He didn’t even have to look up, he already knew that while the parent was attempting to gather things needed on this pit stop, the children were busy running around down the small aisles, touching things and grabbing candy that was just so nicely at their level. At least they couldn’t reach the self-serve soda levers, soda got real sticky real fast on that tile floor. Though, technically the only reason the floor got a chance to get sticky was because Zaku tended to wait until the last possible moment to try and clean it up. But it was all relative.
Once he heard shrill laughter followed by a parent hollering at their children to pick up what they’d dropped on the floor, Zaku was once again strongly considering trying to wrangle the graveyard shift. Sure, more of a chance that he’d be held up at gunpoint for the cash till, but then again there wouldn’t be any CHILDREN around. And truth be told he hadn’t slept much last night and was rather hoping for quiet time at work. Speaking of the little devils, Zaku spotted movement from the corner of his eye. His eyes remained fixed on reading the block of text alongside the nude blonde, rather hoping the kid whom he knew was standing there watching him would wander off. No such luck, seeing as now the kid took to waving his hand at him. Marvelous.
“Hey!! Hey!!” The little boy was waving in an even more animated manner, seemingly dead set on getting Zaku’s attention.
Begrudgingly, Zaku sighed, and shifted his gaze down at the kid.
The boy pointed. “Is your name Bob?”
Zaku was back to looking at the magazine. “No.” Nevermind the fact that he was indeed wearing a nametag that said ‘Bob’ on it. Zaku’d been bored the day before somewhere near noontime and had set to making foul words using the letter labels used for nametags and sticking them on various objects. [Such as the label for ‘coke’ on the shelf now read ‘cock’ and so on.] Sometime during that bit of screwing around, he’d donned the name ‘Bob’ for his nametag rather than his own.
The kid made a face at him, lips pursed. “Then how come you’re wearin’ Bob’s shirt and Bob’s not?” He asked, sounding more like he was demanding information, really.
Zaku was silent a long moment, then slowly shifted his attention to the boy, eyes narrowed and expression serious. “Because Bob had to die.”
The look on the kid’s face was absolutely priceless, wide eyed and disbelieving before the boy turned and ran right back toward the snack aisle where his mother was with his siblings. Zaku had to laugh, he really did, shaking his head he let out a breath and shifted. Leaning on the counter still, he was sort of resting his side against it now, holding the magazine up to read it. Turning a page slowly, he raised both brows and started to look a little more closely at another model in his choice reading material, noticing she had a small tattoo he hadn’t noticed. Christ, that one had to hurt, he wondered what would possess a girl to get something like THAT, THERE of all places…though it was hot..
Lost in his idle thoughts for a moment it wasn’t until he heard things being set on the counter that he bothered to lower the magazine some in order to regard the customer. Zaku immediately realized he was getting the stink-eye from the woman. He slowly set the magazine down on the counter, and feigned a disinterested smile.
2006-07-04 04:13 pm (UTC)
Zaku Application part 2.5
“Will this be all for you ma’am?” He asked, out of habit, had to, it was knee-jerk at this point.
She didn’t look too happy. “It’s obscene and irresponsible for you to be reading that filth when there are children around.” She stated, high and mighty and probably a really up tight lady.
Zaku absently started to scan the items she’d brought up to purchase. “Technically they’d see it anyway, at least the cover, seeing as we sell this and other magazines of the same here and all.” He stated with a shrug.
“Well I don’t need you thrusting those kind of disgusting images at my children!”
Zaku wanted to roll his eyes. In fact, he did roll his eyes. He paused when scanning up a 6 pack of beer, mostly because the register was prompting him to check ID. He looked at the alcohol, then back to the woman. “…and I suppose thrusting an image of early alcoholism is better then?”
She looked offended all of a sudden. “That is NOT the same thing.”
Zaku shrugged. “Guess not.” He put down the little scanning gun device. “I.D. please.”
The woman just went a whole other sort of wide eyed, rather than feeling flattered, she felt even more offended. Because she sure as hell looked over 21. “Excuse me?”
Zaku was back to leaning at the counter. “…I.D. Identification. I need to verify you’re of legal age to purchase alcohol and I have to check I.D. every time.” He gestured vaguely to a sign above his head that said “we check ID“. Really, it was obvious she was old enough to buy it, and this wasn‘t a liquor store that NEEDED to check ID every time, Zaku was honestly just being a dick about it because the lady was irritating.
Before she could respond, the boy spoke up and pointed at Zaku accusingly. “HE KILLED BOB.”
Silence, amazing silence, and staring at the boy before he looked back to the mother who was staring at her child like he was insane, which he might as well be, being that it was random as hell. With that, the woman stooped down and tugged at the boy’s arm HARD, hissing reprimands about lying and embarrassing her in public. To this, the child was insisting that the ‘Bob’ behind the counter had murdered the original ‘Bob’. Zaku watched the scene for a moment, deeply amused, then the woman’s other child wandered up and when the kid asked for ‘cock’ [kid had just read the label near the sodas..], and then…well, after the woman started screaming Zaku decided he better get them out of the store. Things were getting dicey and his lunch hour was approaching anyway.
Raising a hand to his mouth, he whistled, loud, the way one would hail a cab. “Whoa, whoa all right.” He started, pointing then to the little screen on the register. “There’s your total Ma’am.”
The woman was still rather stunned at having her child say THAT word, that she more or less took a second to register what he’d said. Trying to compose herself, she started to go for her pocket book. “Right..that includes everything?”
Zaku nodded. “Everything but the beer.”
She paused and stared at him. “What?”
“No I.D., no alcohol.”
She was about to yell it seemed, this time at him, and Zaku remained looking casual and unaffected. He was almost waiting for it, if she yelled, he’d yell right the fuck back. Of course, one of her kids started yanking at her hand for something, and actually repeated the word which they thought meant soda. The mother got flustered all over again, grabbing her children by the wrists and starting to lead them out. “Forget it!”
Zaku watched them leave, and lingered a moment to observe the fiasco that was getting those kids back into the car. He laughed out loud, that was just comedy gold right there. He didn’t care that he’d have to put all the merchandise back or anything, it’d nearly been worth it just to see that scene. Picking up the items, he started whistling some obscure tune as he wandered to put things back and mentally strengthened the notion that he was never going to have kids.
2006-07-04 04:14 pm (UTC)
Zaku Application: Sample Journal Entry
[GOOD LORD I'M SO SORRY LAST ONE I SWEAR. DX]
Well, today was sort of awkward and weird.
Get this, I’m coming back from that hellish morning shift at the store, [the one that requires me to be, you know, AWAKE well before noontime but lets me off work at around 5,] and I have this guy stumbling at me, wide eyed and lookin’ like hell. Guy couldn’t have been more’n a year or so older than me, looked homeless, and I swear he nearly knocked me the fuck down, but the look on his face was one of…what is it called, recognition? He smiled then, and started talking at me, almost couldn’t understand him, and then I figured from the heavy scent on him that he was probably drunk and on something.
The conversation was one sided if anything, but…fuck man. Started talking to me like he knew me, and I hate to say it but he MIGHT know me, you know? I mean, I swear I didn’t recognize the guy, if he hadn’t knocked into me I wouldn’t’ have paid him a second glance. But he knew me I guess, the more he talked, the more it started to sink in that yeah, I’ve done a lot of stupid things. From the look of him, he probably knew me before I got clean, it’s hard to say where exactly, because to tell the truth, I don’t remember from being on pills and whatever the fuck else I did back then. There are entire weeks that I can’t recall, let alone specific parties I might’ve gone to and people I must’ve met. Or…shared stuff with, bought stuff from..shit.
Looking at that guy made me wonder how many people must’ve looked at me like I was nothing back then. Like I was just some worthless piece of human trash, just mindless and looking for a fix to get a little bit of euphoria. Hell, how many people remember me as just some fuck up like that? It makes me angry, but fuck man. I brought it on myself, so I gotta be a man and own up to that.
Felt relieved as hell when he wandered away though, as irritating as constantly having him say ‘you remember!‘ was. Because I DIDN‘T remember. I think I walked home even quicker than usual too, nearly ran. Got back here, took a shower. For some reason just bein’ around that guy made me feel dirty.
Really dirty. Hell.
Fuck this, I need a nap.
2006-07-04 04:58 pm (UTC)
Re: Zaku Application: Sample Journal Entry
Accepted. Make a journal and join all the comms. Additionally, now that you have two characters, we'll expect one post a week--from either of your characters (example: Yumichika one week, Zaku the next, etc.).