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Topics - L Azuriah

Pages: [1] 2
1
1943 / Tangle [Felix]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 08:09 »
late august 1943
11.33 pm

L stared up into the darkness, eyes wide and alert, but drowsy with lack of sleep.

(... 54... 55...)

He kept his breathing even and slow, as if he were actually asleep and not still very much awake and counting the minutes passing by.

(... 56...)

He wasn't planning on doing anything awful, per se; he was just...

(...  57... 58... 59...)

He was just going to take a short walk around camp, till dawn, to keep himself awake. He didn't want to have another incident happen again. He'd slipped up once, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. It was only for a little while longer; just until the end of summer. He wasn't sure whether continuing it through the whole school term would be wise, though, but he was still debating that.

(... 60!)

L sighed out the breath he'd been holding, and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed his blanket off and half-dragged, half-crawled out of the bed, careful not to make a sound.

Once his feet were on the floor, his eyes darted around, trying to see whether his other cabinmates had roused from sleep. He waited another minute. Then, he half-rolled, half-stepped off his bed, and froze again. He waited another minute.

He swallowed, hoping the panicked racing of his heartbeat wasn't audible in the silence.

Taking another deep breath, he rolled over onto his stomach (grimacing at the action, seeing as he was on the floor, but sacrifices such as these had to be made if he were to stay quiet and undetected), and gently pushed himself to his feet. He took another look around the room, palms sweating.

He took a step forward, then another, and another, and another - until, finally, he was at the door. He released the breath stuck in his throat, and carefully opened the door.

He flinched when he saw a shadowy figure outside.

"A-Ah..." he squeaked, and hastily clamped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide and guilty.

Verdammt.

2
1943 / Exposure [Maël]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 07:51 »
late august 1943
10.51 pm, by the cabins

L woke up with a jolt. He snorted, surprised at the sensation of suddenly waking up, and - oh gods, he'd been asleep. He'd been asleep.

He sprang upright, and flinched back when he saw something solid beside him- oh, it was a wall. Oh gods, where was he? Why did he let himself fall asleep? Why?

He took a deep breath, held it for five counts, and exhaled again. He needed to keep calm. Just keep calm. He needed to get his bearings.

L swallowed. His throat was dry, but not raw or sore. Which meant he hadn't screamed this time around. That was... good, he supposed. At least he didn't wake anyone up. His arm hurt, though. He must have hit something while he was running. He glanced down at his feet, and grimaced; they were caked with wet sand and bits of leaves. So were the hems of his pyjama pants. Brilliant.

(Then again, of course he would have forgotten to put on footwear of any kind when he was being chased by his terrors. He disliked referring to it as 'his demons,' as that implied something much more... severe. It was just a night terror. Just a nightmare that made him run like a loon, and sometimes scream and cry. He could handle it; he'd handled it (somewhat) when he was a child, so what more now that it had come back to haunt him as a teenager?)

He looked at his hands - a few scratches; he must have run through some trees. He must have hit a branch, then; perhaps that's why his arm hurt; there was even a hint of a dirt mark across his sleeve. Hesitantly, he touched his cheeks. He sighed. He could still feel the wetness of tears. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

He didn't have anything to do about that, anymore, unfortunately. What's done was done. He'd fallen asleep and another night terror had pounced.

Where had it taken him, though?

L blinked, and squinted around at his surroundings. It seemed like he hadn't gotten far, this time. He was just outside the cabins. Oh dear, what time was it? Verdammt, it must be after curfew! If a camp counsellor found him -

He cringed at the thought, and hastily pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little when the motion caused a jolt of pain through his injured arm. Legs trembling a little, he rubbed the fabric of his bowtie between his fingers, took another deep breath, then tiptoed to a corner and peeked out, eyes wide.

3
1943 / See No Evil [Theodora]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 07:14 »
late august 1943
1.48 pm

He hadn't slept in weeks. (Naps weren't included, since, technically, they didn't really consist of a full sleep cycle.) It was a very tiring affair. Both literally and figuratively. It was a small price to pay, really, just so he didn't have to fall into the dark clutches of sleep and what lay beyond.

A few sleepless nights were nothing compared to the constant terror and crying every night.

Especially when he got to relax in such a beautiful place as this.

L sighed happily, as he stared into the spring, hugging Yasu snugly to his chest. There was a tiny smile on his face, and his eyes were soft around the edges, the anxiety constantly shining in them having dissipated for now.

He pressed his nose against the top of Yasu's head, giggling a little at how the faux-fur tickled his nose.

"You'll protect me, won't you?" he whispered to the white stuffed tiger, as he hugged it closer.

(Still seeking comfort from a stuffed animal, like he was a decade younger than he actually was. No wonder his grandfather kicked him out of the house; not that he knew that L still kept Yasu, after all these years. But if he had, he still would have kicked L out, the boy was sure of it.)

Surrounded by the lushness and peacefulness of nature, L kept his eyes on the spring, letting its soft trickling melody slowly lull him to a light doze.

"I'm glad I have you, Yasu," he murmured, snuggling his toy as best as he could.

4
1943 / Spectrum [Payton]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 06:07 »
late august 1943
12.31 pm, behind the crow's nest

In retrospect, going for days and days that turned to weeks without sleep wasn't the best decision. He didn't exactly regret it - well, he did, somewhat; he could do without the occasional headaches, the constant drowsiness, and the increased anxiety.

Especially the increased anxiety.

He took a deep breath, scowling, and pressed his back against the wall of the messhall - or Crow's Nest - or whatever it was called - as he munched on his umpteenth chocolate frog (he'd lost count after twelve).

He wanted to eat something that wasn't sweet, or chocolate, or, well, sweet. However, it was lunch time, so there were a lot of people inside, which was why he was stationed outside, eating all the chocolate frogs he'd managed to get his hands on (or stuff his pockets with, as it were).

(He wasn't hiding; technically, he was... resting. Because of his sleep deprivation.)

He had enough self-awareness, though, to damn his increased anxiety to the greatest torture he could imagine - which was watching on someone burned his books or his dresses, or worse, both.

L shuddered at the mental image, and stuffed his mouth with yet another chocolate frog, his fingers missing his mouth the first few tries due to their shakiness.

However, this was the situation he was in, so he would tolerate his guilty eating of sweets for as long as the lunch hour took. It wasn't like his sweet tooth minded, anyway.

5
1943 / Stumble [Rin]
« on: 12/23/2014 at 15:07 »
late august 1943
girls' bunks, 11.07 am

L half-stumbled, half-slipped on his way to the bunks. He blinked, blearily, at the oncoming floor and used all his strength and willpower to lean sideways with his arms outstretched, and managed to flop against the wall, and fell to his knees instead.

Better than falling on his face, at least; there was a 60% probability he'd have to go to the infirmary, if that had happened. At least, falling on his knees only resulted on bruised knees, which he could probably ignore fairly easily.

He just needed to get a book or Yasu or something else to keep him awake, and he'll be fine.

He pushed himself back up to his feet. He succeeded on the fifth try (or was it the eighth?), only staggering a little as he stood. Blinking rapidly to try and get the haze of sleep (deprivation) away from his eyes, he slowly pushed himself off the wall and walked forward.

He conveniently managed to keep walking straight (wobbling slightly was technically 'walking straight') and hold himself upright enough until he reached his door. He slumped against the door frame, exhausted.

Blinking at the blurry room, he concluded he probably needed to take a bit of a nap for a while.

Just a nap. Not a doze or a slumber. Just a nap.

L pushed himself away from the door and fell towards the bunk beds. He caught himself on his hands and knees, this time; that was close, he would have thought, had he been thinking clearly.

Grunting softly at the pain stinging his knees, which he promptly ignored, he crawled towards the lower bunk bed (standing up required more effort and energy, and he just really wanted - no, needed a quick rest for his head) and dragged himself onto it.

As soon as his head felt the pillow underneath, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep.

6
1943 / Mannequin [Oliver]
« on: 12/23/2014 at 08:07 »
august 1943
8.12 pm

L frowned at the dress he had in his hands, and lifted it up to eye-level, squinting slightly.

This was probably one of his oldest dresses. He was surprised it actually managed to fit him two terms ago, since the last time he'd worn it before then was when he was around seven or eight. But then again, his height two terms ago was like that of a seven or eight year old's.

(Well, he's exaggerating a bit, but the fact remains that the dress is fairly small and he used to be quite short. And now, he was, well, not.)

He bit down on his lower lip, trying to suppress the tiny whine threatening to escape. It was just such a pity, to throw this dress away.

It was a fairly simple dress. Lavender, no sleeves, with a ruffled v-neck collar and a thin belt at the waistline. The skirt flowed well when one was in motion, and not at all a hindrance, much like his most of his other dresses. He still had the ankle boots to match with the dress.

L contemplated sewing it to fit him. He had his sewing kit right beside him, after all, and he still had a few of his other older dresses folded in a neat pile on a relatively clean rock surface nearby. He could fix all of them to fit him, really.

But, he decided against it. He didn't have the materials or the money for such work. And even if he did, the skirt would have probably reached his thighs! How inappropriate.

L sighed and set the dress down on his lap, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. It still felt fairly soft, smooth. He smiled. It was one of his first dresses. (Well, one of the first he'd put on and stolen from his sister, but those were just technicalities.)

He would miss this dress. Should he choose to throw it away, that is. Perhaps, he could, instead, give it away? Maybe sell it (he grimaced at the thought), along with his other older dresses. Then, use the money to buy a set of new dresses. Ah, a set of school supplies, that is.

That sounded like a good decision, actually.

He made no move to start on that plan, though. L glanced up slightly, frowning sadly at the river in front of him, as if pleading it for answers. The river flowed on, uncaring of the fifteen-year-old boy's troubles.

7
1943 / Counting Stars [Eira]
« on: 12/18/2014 at 16:42 »
early august 1943, 3.11 am
slight breeze, chilly

He rubbed at his eye, like a child, and yawned.

L wasn't all that comfortable breaking curfew like this, but if he stayed any longer in that bed, staring into the dark, he feared he may go mad. Or at least, quite stressed.

It wasn't like he didn't want to go to sleep (well, actually, that was true; he didn't). It was more like, he was afraid to go to sleep. Terrible things awaited him at the side of unconsciousness, and coming back to awareness wasn't always a pleasant experience either.

Hyperventilating on his bed, in the dark, in the midst of the other campers, wasn't exactly a favorable option either.

It seemed a walk was the only thing that could calm himself down some. His books were usually a good, safe haven, but lately, they weren't. He couldn't even turn to his dresses, seeing as he'd outgrown them all - save for a few of the slightly larger ones.

Not even his bowties were helping, not with his stress levels this high. Yasu, at least, still provided him with the same amount of comfort and calm whenever he held the stuffed tiger.

The darkness seemed to cling to him, though; like a second skin, tight, constricting, threatening.

Hence, a walk outside, with Yasu in his arms, was in order.

He didn't even know what time it was, but he was fairly certain nobody would be up and about when the moon - the quarter moon, at that - was already out and halfway to its highest peak.

(It would have been quite embarrassing to be caught in his pyjamas, pseudo-bowtie and all. And he would have gotten into trouble if he were caught, which he highly doubted would calm him.)

"Hmm, it's a bit cold out," he realized, shivering as the night breeze hit what little of his skin was exposed. He attempted to pull his night shirt tighter around himself, realized how futile that was since it was a simple button-up shirt, but remained pulling it closer shut at the collar anyway.

He hugged Yasu closer to his chest, both for his abundance of comfort and his slight scarcity of warmth. L trudged on up the path, wishing there was some sort of cave on that certain area halfway up the volcano. But of course, he knew there wasn't one, which was unfortunate.

He sighed sadly when he finally reached the small, flat platform-like area, and settled himself down on it, using both hands to hug Yasu closer. Blinking blearily, tiredly, he stared at the stars above, and felt his shoulders relaxing.

A small smile settled on his lips.

He just hoped he wouldn't fall asleep here; that wouldn't end well...

8
1943 / Height Matters [Ra'as]
« on: 12/17/2014 at 05:56 »
5.21 am

L was most definitely not crying.

His eyes felt hot and there something warm and wet was coming out of his eyes and down his cheeks, yes, but they were tears. No matter how salty they tasted when he licked them off the corner of his lips.

That said, he wasn't crying. Just really emotional.

Who wouldn't be, when he could hardly fit into his own clothes anymore because of of his verdammt growth spurt and he only had enough money for next term's books and a few new clothes.

Thank the gods (most of) his bowties could still fit around his neck. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about his dresses. And dresses were expensive. Hence, why he was definitely-not-crying-just-very-emotional.

He sniffled, something was clogging his breathing (not tears and snot, definitely not) but he mostly ignored it, and just hoped it wouldn't drip onto the dress in his hands. Deftly, he closed the last stitch, bit off the thread, and held the dress up for inspection.

He hadn't gotten much sleep again, maybe just a couple hours, no more, but from what little wandlight he had (he wasn't stupid enough to light the fire pit, even though nobody else was awake at this hour - probably), he could see that, at best, the dress could probably fit him now. He used to be quite confident about his sewing skills. But now, he paused.

Lowering the dress beside him onto the bench, he leaned out to peer into the pre-dawn. As far as he could (barely) see, there was nobody else in sight. He hoped to the gods there really wasn't. He'd picked the cove especially because of the benches, and the cabins themselves were definitely a danger zone, even at this hour.

Taking a deep breath, he ducked back in and (wiping furtively at his wet face) quickly took off his outer clothing and put the dress on.

It was a pastel pink dress, one of his favourites, especially since it used to match his first bowtie, with white frills on the bottom skirts' hems and two ribbons holding the first two skirts, pink, up at the sides. He kept the pink-and-white bow at the front, which hid the fact that he had no womanly breasts at all. The only modification to the dress, basically, was the bigger waistline, the slightly-lengthened sleeves, and the shorter skirt. The dress used to reach up to his ankles, two terms ago. Now, it only reached up to his knees, even with the few modifications he'd made to it.

He sighed. L wasn't fond of shorter skirts like these, but he supposed it would have to do.

He looked over his shoulder, outside of the cove. Making sure there was still nobody awake and about, as far as he could see, he put on the matching stockings and heeled shoes (both Transfigurated, successfully, previously to fit him now too).

L felt like a huge weight had fallen off his shoulders. He stood a little straighter, and flattened out the wrinkles in the skirt, adjusting the bow in front. He definitely felt calmer, more relaxed, when he was in a dress. It was his armor, basically. Sadly, boys wearing dresses weren't really that... acceptable.

Thank Merlin nobody else was out and about at this hour.

9
1943 / a posteriori ♛ ℒ
« on: 12/16/2014 at 01:31 »

Azuriah
Fifteen. Ravenclaw. British/Italian.
a posteriori, adj., relating to or denoting reasoning or knowledge that proceeds from observations or experiences to the deduction of probable causes.
#Disowned Halfblood
#Linguist
#Aestheticist
#Secret Crossdresser
#Stargazer
#How Do You People?
#?? ? ?? ? ???
He's been pretty much holed up in his room for 99% of his first thirteen years of life, because he preferred it that way. And because being in an area with a large group of people used to give him such debilitating anxiety attacks that he could barely stand.

After the last couple of years in summer camp and Hogwarts, though, his anxiety has gradually decreased enough that he could bear to be in the corner of the room of a roomful of people for long enough without ending up in him practically fainting - just as long as he had a bowtie on, which he always does.

(He still has tiny anxiety attacks in such situations, though.)

He's learned that his assumption/hypothesis/theory of people being complicated beings was correct, and aspires to learn more, even though in the end, he remains as confused as always, and comes off as an arse, a nervous wreck, or a pretentious oddity.

When someone especially surprises him, he tends to put his foot in his mouth and say something mean.

Note: Don't touch him; his brain will short-circuit and he will freak out and probably scream. Or call you mean names, at least.
introversion, n., the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life.
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[div style="width: 300px; border: 25px solid #fff; border-bottom: 10px solid #fff; background-color: #fff; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 18px; color: #776D86;"][b][i]YOUR NAME HERE[/i][/b]
[div style="text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 10px; color: #777;"][i]AGE. HOUSE. MOTHER TONGUE.[/i][/div][/div]
[div style="width: 300px; border: 25px solid #fff;"]
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[td style="width:100px;"][div style="max-height: 195px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 5px; font-family: arial; color: #5e556b;"]#TAGS GO HEEEERE
#You can put as many as you want
#could be about yourself, your personality, etc.
#or could be about you and your relationship with L
#Go Crazy
#<3[/div][/td]
[td style="width: 195px;"][div style="max-height: 195px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 5px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; color: #8a7e9c;"]History, relationship, plots, thoughts, gifs, and all other things go here!~[/div][/td]
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10
the thread that shall not be named

early august, 1943

Miss PE,

I am uncertain whether you would take this letter favorably or not. But after all the other ones we have sent to each other the past year, I feel it is only fitting.

I want would like to meet you in person. Please. If you would oblige me, I will be awaiting at the edge of the rainforest, near the big boulder, ten minutes before curfew. Please come

I want to see you, I want to know who you are, I need to know you're real

I hope to see you.

Regards,
LA



She was two minutes late, and he wasn't sure whether crying now would be a wise decision, or if he should wait it out and just cry later.

He decided on the latter, since the chances of her showing up were still fairly high, seeing that she had eight more minutes. Just eight more minutes. He could wait eight more minutes.

He had been waiting (wanting, craving, needing) to see her (touch her, hold her) ever since that one letter during the school term, in the middle of winter when that envelope signed with his name drop by his breakfast plate, and the sight of it had warmed something inside him that made him forget what 'cold' even meant.

He'd been waiting a year, so what was eight more minutes?

Just eight more minutes.

The night breeze nipped at his exposed wrists, and he pulled down his sweater sleeves (it was somewhat ridiculous how even quicker he got cold these days; was it because of all the height he'd gained?), cupping his hands in front of his mouth and blowing some warmth into them.

Eight more minutes in the cold was nothing, will be nothing, once he finally laid eyes on her. Once he knew she really was real, and not just a highly complex figment of his imagination, or not just someone pretending.

Because, finally, he had someone who understood him, had someone whom he could actually talk to without feeling like he was awkward and messing it all up, had someone who he could actually consider a true friend, an admirer. Even though the only things he had that could actually prove her reality were the letters.

But that was enough; it had to be enough.

(It wasn't enough.)

If she didn't show up in the next eight- no, seven minutes, then he could at least be able to immerse himself further into the thought that someone really, truly, honestly liked him, for everything he was.

(Except about the dresses; that's the only thing he couldn't ever possibly bear to tell her about.)

Because he still had his doubts that she didn't really like him, because who would like someone through reading their words, alone, right?

(He was such a hypocrite.)

11
1943 / C is for CRYIGN ALL TEH TAERS
« on: 12/01/2014 at 15:47 »
I swear I'll keep this one short:

Deadlines and Finals. #RIPCyb

):

12
1943 / WARNING: Not Much of a Gifspam ):
« on: 12/01/2014 at 15:36 »




%
'EYYYYYYY. I SWEAR I'M NOT DEAD
(I just checked, it's all good.)

I just (barely) survived six exams, five reports, and two papers - all in one month, and I had a make-up class for stat till just an hour two three-ish hours ago, so please bear with the (worse than usual) incoherent babbling and half-arsed coding of this intro.

Speaking of, here's a list, because it'll hopefully make my ramblings look somewhat organized.
  • I'm Cyb, 17, from the Philippines, Gemini, uni Psychology student, and Hoggies veteran for eight (?) terms, including that one term I took a hiatus. (my math isn't very good anymore so that might actually be seven or nine, whoops)
  • Other random stuff:
  • Food - I'm always hungry. I prefer meat, though. And cheese. And chocolate, always. <3
  • Colors - the brighter, the prettier, in my opinion. Neons and shades of grey are the prettiest, for me. But I like pastel and candy colors too. I currently have a fondness for white and purple or teal or neon pink.
  • Photography - I'm not very fond of taking pictures (though I want to learn how to do it, professionally), just looking at them, really. Especially nature photography~
  • Gaming - Otome and zombie games fuel a fire in my heart. My current obsession though is a shiny dancing game (TOUCH 3D).
  • Writing/Drawing - I've always had a fondness for making up stories, in any way shape or form. I tried video-making once; it was awesome, but took up too much computer memory. ):
  • Graphics - Pretty things, shiny things, pretty shiny things. Yes. Coding and photo-editing; I like dabbling, but I'm not very good yet. I will be soon, just you wait. XD
  • Reading/Watching - It's been a while since I've watched a tv series or read a book, whoops. Those things take tiiime. Mostly I've been watching anime or reading manga, really, if I have the time. Kuroshitsuji and Free! is taking over my life.
  • Music - Ed Sheeran, Regina Spektor, f(x), SHINee, Super Junior, BoA, BABYMETAL, Taylor Swift. And most of these bands:
  • Fandoms & Shipping - I'm always crying too, when I'm not crying about exams (that's a different type of crying).
  • Rambling - I tend to do that a lot, online. I'm not actually a very talkative person IRL...
  • Hiatus - Sadly, the gif is somewhat misleading; no, I'm not really back. ): There is a 99% chance that I will post an absence thread after this, but if I don't, let's just say: FINALS. *awkward cackling in the distance*


L Azuriah
linguist/aestheticist
tsundere dork extraordinare


*My Charries <3


Hana Sato
your future queen and ruler
cute little psychopath


Cal Hartt
aspiring professional thief
human alley cat


Eoin R. Kelly
hero wannabe
soulless pyromaniac


Arin Pellegrino
twincest
possessive meanie


Alrigo Ricardus
professional lazybutt annoyance
foodie party animal

13
1942 / turn and face the strange | elliot
« on: 08/16/2014 at 11:21 »
It'd been bugging him ever since Elliot had told him about it.

And he really did mean to use the word 'bug,' because it was, quite aptly, a tiny little thing that both annoyed and feared him for as long as it was there.

(Annoyed, because he wasn't supposed to be thinking that, because it sounded wrong - it was wrong; Elliot was his friend, not his - his - his plaything! And that was also the reason why he feared it.)

He'd tried suppressing the thought for weeks. Weeks.

It was frustrating.

Thus, he'd decided to finally submit to the thoughts. He could only hope Elliot would be kind enough to forgive him.

Fiddling with his bowtie, L glanced around quickly, the night air cooling the nervous sweat at the nape of his neck.

He really didn't want to be sneaking about and breaking the rules like this, but this was the only time he was confident nobody would suddenly interrupt them and inadvertently find out.

And he'd sworn to keep the older boy's secrets. They were secret-keepers, after all.

"Elliot?" he whispered to the cabin door he was sure was his friend's.

"Elliot, are you awake?" he hissed under his breath, and hoped he was loud enough for the older boy to hear him - but not for anyone else to hear him. "Elliot, if you're awake, let me in, if you please. This is important!"

14
1942 / top of the world | elizabeth
« on: 08/16/2014 at 11:08 »
He'd read up on enough books about trees and climbing (but none on tree-climbing, since the subject matter was, apparently, unpopular in non-fiction literature) to understand the basics of what he was dealing with.

(Tree, noun. A woody perennial plant, typically having a single stem or trunk growing to a considerable height and bearing lateral branches at some distance from the ground. From the Old English word(s) trēow, trēo, from a Germanic variant of an Indo-European root shared by Greek doru meaning wood, spear, or drus meaning oak.)

(Climb, verb. To go or come up (a slope, incline, or staircase), especially by using the feet and sometimes the hands; ascend. From Old English climban; related to Dutch and German klimmen, also to clay and cleave.)

Should be simple enough, right?

He'd done it before, last summer - though, it was with the help of a spell, so it wasn't really the same thing.

However, this summer, even with all the knowledge he'd accumulated about trees and climbing (but, sadly, not tree-climbing - and he'd hoped it wouldn't be too big an error on his part), both of his feet were still firmly on the ground.

His palms were riddled with tiny cuts and his legs and knees stung with little scrapes - both instances due to the tree bark. His shoulders were slumped, exhausted from his numerous successive - failed - attempts. His eyes, though, were still bright and determined.

He'd spent too much time researching for this to give up now.

(He supposed he could have tried climbing up to Persephone's Peak, instead, but he hadn't read up on mountains and mountain-climbing. Or rather, volcanoes and volcano-climbing. He was especially wary about its dormant state.)

With another deep breath, he set his hands back on the tree trunk, and began his ascent.

- Thump.

"Argh!" L winced.

He sighed, and took his hands and feet away from the tree, staring at the new cuts there. His arse was probably going to have some bruises in the morning; the ground wasn't exactly what one could describe as 'a soft landing.'

Shoulders slumping again, he dropped his hands to his lap, and turned his head upwards, staring past the canopy of leaves and straining to catch a glimpse of the night sky beyond.

The stars must be beautiful tonight. He still had time. Sunset had only been half an hour ago, after all. It would be best if he took a quick rest before he tried to climb again...

15



YOOOOO. This is Cyb speaking. Otherwise known as the Great Cybzilla, to my characters. Not that they call me that. Shameless treason, it is.

Don't worry, though, I'm not actually Grell Sutcliff harmless. ;)



Anyway, I've decided to do what I've always wanted to do with my intro - which is a gifspam, interspersed with rambling. Because I'm uninspired and slowly spiraling into unoriginality herpderp why not.

Be warned: this is probably gonna be the randomest intro I've ever made, so it'll be pretty random, but fairly organized. I made everything as pretty as I could make it through my sloth-like laziness. Before you proceed, have a gif of a cat with mittens:



Oops. Um... OH HEY LOOK LOOK OVER THERE SOMETHING SHINY IT'S -

A LIST! Because lists.
  • I'm 17, hailing from this tiny archipelago called Philippines. (Please don't ask me if I'm Asian or Pacific Islander, because I suck at geography and would appreciate if you saved me the headache. I am a Filipino, let's leave it at that.)
  • Currently majoring in BA Psychology, but idk yet if I wanna pursue it further or take film school post-grad.
  • Cheese and chocolate are my comfort foods. But not both at once, that's just... no.
  • I think purple, pink, and teal are fabulous colors. Candy colors, mmm~
  • Red, though.
  • I don't really have a specific genre of music that I listen to, but I'm currently really into punk. Pop punk, punk rock, hardcore, post-hardcore, etc. Basically, at least half of the bands in this gif:
  • Also, Ed Sheeran and Regina Spektor.
  • do not talk to me about video games. my tablet got a bug or something and is currently unusable, so I can't play my ROMs until further notice. all I have left are a couple of otome games and flappy bird.
  • Sometimes Most of the time I'm a flailing mess of feels. My life is revolving around fandoms and I cry.
  • Pacific Rim, Dreamworks, Disney/Pixar, Pacific Rim, Tim Burton, Studio Ghibli, Guillermo del Toro, Pacific Rim, Pacific Rim, oh wait did I mention Pacific Rim?
  • Currently thriving (catching up) on live action and anime/manga series. Kuroshitsuji, Free!, Love Stage!!, Fairy Tail, HIMYM, Hannibal NBC, and IASIP. Sherlock BBC is pretty cool, the Who 'verse is pretty cool too, and Merlin BBC will forever have a piece of my heart.
  • ^10/10 would recommend. (ノ;ω;)ノ*:・゚✧

AAAAND LOOK LOOK LOOK HERE'S ANOTHER NOT-QUITE-LIST WHEEEEEEEEE

THESE ARE MY PRECIOUS BBY CHARRIES!~ (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

{ sorry about these rambly descriptions }

L AZURIAH
14 | 3rd Year Ravenclaw | Passionate Tsundere Dork

My first baby of 2014, post-hiatus. Much like Rei, he seems cool and mysterious, but he's actually a flustered huge dork with a deep passion for beautiful pretty things. Tsundere, through and through, yep. Maybe when his Nagisa comes he'll finally start showing his dorky side more often. *cough, cough, haaaack, spit*

Ignore that, ahem ahem.

He also has a passion for linguistics, languages, and crossdressing. Currently, he knows seven languages, including English, and is in the process of completing his studies for the eight and ninth languages. And yes, he still has his stuffed white tiger, Yasutora, with him at camp, if anyone's interested to know. (◡‿◡✿)

HANA SATO
11 | Japanese Orphan | Cute Little Budding Psychopath

She basically screams "LOVE ME" with her big, wide, puppy dog eyes.

If you don't love her enough or love her a little too much, she will leave you the next time you turn your back or take your attention away from her, without even so much as a goodbye. She doesn't have time for those kinds of people. (All she wants is a family that will love her, give her all their attention, and succumb to her every wish, but won't be too clingy or treat her badly; is that too much to ask?)

But don't be fooled by her warmth, her smile, or her doe eyes. She doesn't actually care about you - and if she does, then let's just say, you're lucky. ☆

CAL HARTT
26 | Self-taughtlearned | Cat

Not actually a cat. But he basically is.

A stray cat, that keeps to himself (and any other familiar cats who'd befriended him), and likes lounging in the sunlight, and prances in the alleyways, and mills about large crowds, and darts away from suspiciously 'nice' humans who get too close. But he's got a human body. And eats sweets (and only sweets).

He didn't choose the cat life, the cat life chose him. And he embraced it with open arms.

(It's not like he could have done much else in between the gradually less frequent visits from his mother, reading what books were thrown at given to him, and not leaving the attic that served as 'his room.')

EOIN R. KELLY
28 | Gryffindor Graduate | Pyromaniac Hero Wannabe/Complex

Saving people, burning things - the family business. He doesn't really know how to do anything else (well, he does, but not as competently), unless it's also something that could give him an adrenaline rush.

As an adrenaline junkie with an attention span of 'to burn or to save, otherwise gtfo,' it's no wonder he's still a Junior Healer at his age. And what's worse, his pet sugar glider is dying of old age!

He can't really get his big break, can he?

(He's not interested in dressing up in tights though, thanks very much.)

ARIN PELLEGRINO
22 | Italian Orphan | Possessive Twin

He's mute, but Italian, and therefore, expressive and talkative, even without his voice. His hands are a flurry of movement and his smile always looks polite and gleeful.

But not in actuality, nope. He doesn't really trust people, but he's learned that 'playing nice' is usually the most viable option. His eyes always reflect the charm of his smile, until he doesn't want them to. Stand a little too close to his twin, and you'll find those bright blue eyes flashing dangerously at you, whilst that upturned mouth smiles and grins at you like he doesn't mean it.

But he does. He really does.

His twin is his, and nobody will take them away from each other ever again. He's just a little more paranoid than his twin about it. But if you play nice, then he will too; simple as that. ☆

RONAN C. WINTER-STORMHEART
24 | Hufflepuff Graduate | Little Ball of Puppy Sunshine

Basically a golden retriever, yup.

Willing to believe the best in everything, he's as gullible and oblivious as they get. A big, stupid, toothy grin always beaming at you, even if you scowl back at him or otherwise.

Though, a big sweetheart, he's also a klutz, when it comes to handling cups of coffee (which he really needs to lay off of, since it only makes him even more jittery), and has a penchant for stopping in his tracks and simply standing still and smiling at nothing, right in the middle of the street, lost in his daydreams.

(Defense mechanisms can be terrible things when taken too far.)

character notes:
  • This term, I'll mainly be using L. Hana will only be free for plots in the summer, and Cal is a nomad so he basically bums around anywhere/anywhen/anyhow he wants. But I'll still play him and Eoin and Arin, but not as much as L.
  • I have a Ricardus, whose app has already been accepted, but I've yet to rp him and get a firm, all-around grasp on his character, so I haven't added him to the list yet.
  • I won't be using my pre-2014 characters, since half of them are kinda stuck in America, and the other half are mostly free spirits (but not literally). The only one I'll be using will probably be Ronan, and maybe sometimes Nilo, but idk. )':
  • I love all my charries and I wanna continue rp'ing my old ones, but my time and chemical balance just cannot with them anymore. I'm of the opinion that I've given them too much angst, so I'm giving them a bit of a break. I miss 'em already ; ^ ; )

WELL THAT'S IT THAT'S THAT ILU ALL <3

COME PLOT WITH ME AND I WILL SHOWER YOU WITH
GIFS, CHOCOLATE, GLITTER, FEELS, AND CAPS (not the headwear). (ノ≧▽≦)ノ*:・゚☆






16
1942 / kimi wa kounaien || elves snaps
« on: 08/06/2014 at 11:53 »
First Visit

L winced every time the sleeves of the thin, cotton T-shirt brushed against the angry-red parts of his upperarms. He'd been so sure he'd brought sunscreen with him, just in case. But there hadn't been any in the midst of his belongings.

He hissed when the fabric of the T-shirt brushed against his lower back, leaning backwards a bit so it wouldn't touch against the sensitive spot again.

This is what he got for not having the forethought to pack sunscreen along with his sunhat, and for opting to wear a flimsy shirt that rode up when he stretched out and unwittingly took an impromptu nap on the ground. (Which was definitely unsanitary, but the sand had looked so inviting, so warm... A bit prickly, but definitely warm... In retrospect, he shouldn't have laid down on it when he had only slept for three hours last night.)

He sighed at himself, then winced again when a slight breeze blew past, hissing when his sunburnt arms were hit.

He hoped the infirmary at least had sunscreen, if not a cure for sunburn.

He stepped inside, looking around, tense. He never liked going to the infirmary.

"A-Ah, excuse me?"

17
AZURIAH
#Fourteen #Ravenclaw #Rising Third Year #Presumably Pureblood #Linguist #Aestheticist #Crossdresser #Stargazer #What even are feelings? #And people? #I don't understand  ?? ? ?? ? ???

He's been holed up in his room (not including tutoring sessions and loo breaks) for 99% of his first thirteen years of life, because he preferred it that way. And because being in a place with a large group of people used to give him such debilitating anxiety attacks that he could barely stand.

After the last year (which he'd spent a couple months of in summer camp and the rest of the year of in Hogwarts) though, his anxiety has gradually decreased as such that he could bear to be in the corner of the room of a roomful of people - as long as he had a bowtie on, which he always does.

(He still has tiny anxiety attacks in such situations, though.)

He's learned that his assumption/hypothesis/theory of people being complicated beings was correct, and aspires to learn more, even though in the end, he remains as confused as always, and comes off as an arse, a nervous wreck, or a pretentious oddity.

Note: Don't touch him; his brain will short-circuit and he will freak out and probably scream. Or call you mean names, at least.
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[div style="padding: 0px 30px 0px 20px;"][color=#FF0080][b]#What are you to him? #Relationship Tags #GO HERE #as many as you want; go crazy[/b][/color]

Thoughts, plots, gifs, and such go here. <3
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RELATIONSHIP TAGS
I am an arms dealer fitting you with weapons in the form of words
Annoying, but polite? #Acquaintance
Rebellious? Blunt? Speak your mind? #Admiration/Respect
Quiet? #Potential Friend
Polite? Formal (in speech/manner)? #IDK If You're Mocking Me Or Not But I'll Take It

I wrote the gospel on giving up (and looking pretty sinking)
Human? #Confusion/Fascination/Frustration
Noisy? Talkative? Pretty much unable to shut your mouth? #Annoyance/Avoidance
Halfblood? Don't care. Muggleborn? Sorry in advance; he has to keep up appearances. #Filthy Mudblood

All the boys who the dancefloor didn't love
Mother tongue not English? #Person of Interest
Great hair? Will let him do your hair for you? #Sama
Other? #[Custom/Specify]

All the girls whose lips couldn't move fast enough
Pretty? #OMG (I Promise I'm Not Stalking You)
Feelings are weird, whatwhat? #Doki

18
1941 / I Won't Run, I Will Hide [Rys]
« on: 04/28/2014 at 14:31 »
Last Week of Summer.

L settled in one of the benches with a deep sigh of relief. Finally, he hadn't been sure if he could actually find some time alone for himself in the last week of camp, but he had done the (supposedly) impossible. Hah!

Smiling to himself, he opened the book (which he still hadn't managed to return to Leyshell, and he hoped dearly she wouldn't mind) and began to read.

19
1941 / Keep Calm and Don't Get Caught [Evelyn]
« on: 04/22/2014 at 18:27 »
End of Week Two.
Nighttime, after curfew

Verdammt! This wasn't supposed to happen! See, this was one of the reasons why he absolutely hated scouting. There is a high possible of getting dirt and sweat and filth on himself. Also, he gets lost, sometimes. Who could blame him? He was new to the verdammt Camp!

Crouching low behind the tree, he tried to keep his breathing steady and quiet. He'd briefly considered using his wand for light but that would have been an idiotic move. Not getting caught was the goal here!

He shouldn't have taken that turn down the path Merlin-knows-how-many-blocks ahead.

He stayed still and took a deep breath. He mustn't panic, it was all perfectly alright. Except he was lost and in a different Camp and it was past curfew, oh gods.

He just hoped nobody would catch him.

20
1941 / Nerding Out [Vi]
« on: 04/22/2014 at 12:53 »
Week Three.

He had been crouched near the tent for some time now, heart pounding in his ears. But through it, he'd still managed to hear most of the conversation, up to the end. Or should he say 'debate'?

Debate was a much more accurate term, and it left him staring sparkly-eyed at the direction of the voices.

The girl was so confident, so intense, so passionate - she'd practically driven her opponent (he couldn't see whether it was a girl or a boy, but he didn't much care for the other party anyway) to the ground. She was brilliant.

"You're brilliant!" he blurted out, and his hands immediately flew up to cover his mouth as his cheeks burned hot. Oh verdammt.

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