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Is the glass half empty or is it half full - That's a good question for anyone else, but for Lane, the glass shattered when he was eight years old; that's when he first learned that the world was not sunny days & running after his brothers for the soccer ball. No. life was so much worse. info & rules

The meeting, like all meetings, was a drag of formal declaration, the firm boasting about its revenue and case completion rate, how for the next few assignments it was imperative the cases be handled with care, dedication, and most of all, a hunger for success - the problem, Lane didn't hunger for anything, his stomach was shrunken down to the bare bones, nothing met something more empty then the word itself and he was surrounded by sharks with a thirst of blood. If only they would turn on him, rip him limb from limb, and make this bottomless pit disappear. Time must have flown by, or maybe the tonic taken this morning was enough to lull him away for a few seconds, but he's in the meeting room now, fewer people than just a second before, him and Blair. " Guess we're partners on this one." Notebook in front of him never opened, copy of the case file sitting in that disgusting yellow envelope. A hunger for success. " i don't know why he would think this was a good idea '

Their assignment was to discover what was hidden - bring ghosts back to life. The door creeks as it opens, vines splitting as it drags them away from the security of walls. " The only punishment here is having us sleep in a place like this, " it's mumbled because Lane doesn't generally speak loudly or at all, heavy-set eyes search for a light switch, up, as if that will do anything. It's almost frozen on the inside, plastic tarp over everything, dust on the surfaces, but it otherwise looks as if it... It had been paused. Gaze looks over at his partner for the next week, Laia. He knows about her. had cared very little when the others called her bossy. " Which way?"

All of it is one giant ripple into the next. Anyways, he turns on the water, bends over the sink, and lets the water wash away in a shade of pink. tries not to focus on the way the water feels thick, how it almost sparkles in the palm of his hand.

@briggsmade - Private & Sel original character, an anthology of LANE BRIGGS' the tragedy in living & the study of what it means to be alive while wishing you were never born . . . Briggsmade will have mature & Triggering content throughout, 21+ only, low to moderate activity. Muse EST 2018 . Re-est 2026.

IN THIS WORLD, there is bad, a rotten core, and the worms roam, in and out of the holes that plague that very core - an apple discarded in a field, eventually it will get stepped on, become nothing but grim beneath the busybody's shoe. Lane has never been able to distinguish if he is the apple or the worm, but neither, in his opinion, is worth two thoughts, and maybe that's the plight in all this. A worm let into a garden of busy bodies, and he weighs to be stepped on. If you focus a little more Mr. Briggs, you might actually be good at this. If you applied yourself Briggs, you could make something of yourself. If you brought your head out of your ass, Lane, you might realize the world keeps moving, and no matter how much you try, it'll never stop for you. If, if and if, a cycle beaten and he listens, dead stare, deader on the inside each time he watches their resolve crack. Just like now, the elevator dings, floor four. All students would be paired with a graduate and work start-to-finish on a case for credit, which would be applied to the final. a deep breath, he moves; people don't look at him as he passes because what is there to look at. a corner, another, down this long boring hall, and the doors slide open - to the department he would call his prison for the next few weeks. at the center of the glass table are more people than he would like to see, some faces he knows from the school - they know him too, that's why they say. " Briggs got assigned to this one too? damn, we're screwed."

Time moves at whatever pace it wants; he's never really kept track of it. A turn here, a turn there, take the stairs to the second floor. Third door in, those were the instructions he had been given by the professor. He opens the door to an office; it's nice - if Lane cared about comfortable chairs and bookshelves with books about the laws, history, all things he's supposed to be learning. fuck, he never studied last night like he was supposed to. Eyes focus on the man behind the desk... right. introductions. " Hi, I'm the intern Professor Vidal assigned to shadow you on the Rosemary case..."