class of 08'

    becoming corporeal was beginning to be a habit of his, lurking in his spiritual form was fun - sure - however he found himself actually longing for interaction. a rare mood to be in for jeremy.   ‘ nope ... never read it. sounds real interestin’ though. ’   there’s a small pause, a sinister grin forming as he admires, hungrily, the revolver in her petite hands.   ‘ oh, darlin’ ... of course i would. ’

"Just don't try cuddling me or anything."

   ‘ make me. trust me you won’t be able to. ’  the brunet cocks an eyebrow, hues seeming to darken further, as a sinister smirk makes an appearance on his features.

    ‘ why? m’not doin’ nothin’... ’

  ‘ do you think i give a shit what you think? ’  i think you should put that knife down ... looks dangerous. he becomes irate easily, especially when someone butts their opinion in uninvited. he’s sharpening it, the curved edge glistening, spiked handle newly polished.

   he merges onto the opposite side of the road, backpack lazily slung over his shoulder, the strap just barely hanging on by a thread - the weight of schoolbooks causing his already lurched posture to worsen. crystal orbs glance at the figure walking in front of him - he has to be aware of his surroundings as to avoid any embarrassments - she’s smaller than him .. much smaller. she looks like a prep. there’s a smirk, followed by a scowl. he resumes eye contact with the pavement, stepping out into the gutter in order to pass the girl in front of him. @eightholyterrors​

   --- not his usual attire, the signature black trenchcoat which made him even larger and even a bit scary as his mother had informed him - nor the lace up combat boots he had picked out from the local army surplus store. instead he had lazily thrown together an outfit in the dimness of his room --- startled awake by his mother’s voice.  [ ‘ parker! your alarm has gone off! ’ ]  a pair of faded green converse adorn his feet, black jeans, and a green flannel. to top it all off his crown of messy blond locks was shielded by a black hoodie,  earbuds were buried in each ear, blaring the smashing pumpkins. he walks with a lazy gait, head down peering at the cracked pavement.  @eightholyterrors

  // trying to get most of my owed replies done! on a side note the peach salsa and sweet potato tortilla chips from trader joe’s are my favourite thing ever at the moment.

   --- he laid with his back to the wall, the cold plaster sending an icy chill over his bare skin. the blonde in his arms, steady breaths leaving her, only to end up lingering at the surface of his skin. part of him so DESPERATELY wanted to kiss her, the other held him back. his mind attempting to rebuild the cracked wall which divided right from wrong. shattered from the start, it’s very foundation had crumbled to dust due to the event which had just taken place. the silence is broken, however, by her voice - soft and seductive - and it brings him back to his reality. lying barely clothed in bed with his sister.   ‘ no ...  ’   he can feel his face heat up at the already obvious revelation, nevertheless a deep pang of humiliation slices through his being. dark hues flutter open, staring up at the ceiling, the off white paint being slightly illuminated by the dull glow of a nearby desktop computer he had constructed himself -- with the help of parker of course.

  // i have my owed replies all drafted, but go ahead and like this for a starter.