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Post by tristan valencia silver on Jan 12, 2011 3:15:07 GMT -6
 -----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. LATE AFTERNOON. VALKYRIE STREETS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] - - - “SWEETHEART, DO YOU [/b][/font] really think...” she stopped mid-sentence. like she always did when she was about to say something she shouldn’t. it’d been happening since she, tristan, was twelve. no, thirteen. that’s when her waste-of-botox mother first started noting her daughter’s body. because apparently entering puberty and developing like a woman is something to be ashamed of. first it was, “oh, tristan honey, maybe you should try the salad. no dressing.” and then it suddenly became, “ please, sweetheart, have dinner with us.” pick a god damn side already, you evil barbie doll with wrinkles. sarah silver always stopped mid-sentence, paused for a second, and then bit down on her puffed-up lips. like she knew she shouldn’t be even considering these words, but she’d have to say them anyway because she just had to. it was the way of the plastic trophy wife. ”do i think what? that this dress in inappropriate? that i should wear blush? that you look like the couch? yes, yes and, for fuck’s say, absolutely.” her words were spoken resignedly, completely casual. she wasn’t even looking at her mother. tristan was, in fact, sitting on the slouched tan leather couch sitting in the silver estate’s gymnasium-sized living room, her nose buried in some magazine. she hadn’t bothered to pay her mother much attention since striding through the doors half an hour earlier. it’s not like she wanted to be here. ”daddy,” still not looking up, she announced the arrival of her father - the man with the crisp black suit and fat gold watch. ”please agree with me that your darling wife’s highlights make her look like a tangerine.” her words continuing with their nonchalant grace, she uncrossed her legs, placed the magazine on the glass coffee table and stood up. her wicked blue eyes swept her mother’s too-blonde hair for a moment, then she looked back up with the unfamiliar sweet smile. dimples and all. she hated it here. absolutely hated it. she felt like she was in some museum no one ever went to. but it stayed open because the owner was too rich to care either way. but he made sure to send in a cleaning crew too often, because there was no dust on anything. she couldn’t believe she used to live here. now, it just seemed ridiculous. all this space was necessary, i guess. her parents never really bothered with each other. too much effort. yet here she was, standing with her parents on a lovely january afternoon. the silvers’ were much too perfect to have been effected by the earthquake that turned their beloved town into shambles. everything looked as perfect as it had six months previous. a year. three years. that’s when she finally moved out. it was part of the unspoken deal with her father, to interact with the family and pretend to be the perfect silver girl she used to be, at least once a month. maybe if she stayed long enough, she wouldn’t have to show up in february. but that’ll be then. we’re here, right now, standing in the living room. too bad the doorbell rang before she got a response from her father. she knew that he thought the same thing. that blonde, with skin that...well, if she called it tan? she looked worse than ever. and that’s saying something. sarah silver was always one of the worst when it came to the stereotypical valk mother. time hadn’t treated her well. well, whatever. the people that were coming over probably realized that, too. they just came out of respect for her father. granted, tristan didn’t actually know who these people were. just that a wait staff and really boring band were hired, standing straight in the foyer. was this really necessary? people had charity brunches, not lunch-dinner things. she assumed it’d be a dinner, with lovely small-talk to take up the remainder of the afternoon. awesome. shrugging out of the blue sweater she’d been huddled in all morning, tristan met her mother’s eye with her infamous smirk and turned around all dimples and happiness when the door opened. so, she was right. nineteen years of regular whatevers had taught tristan to realize exactly what was happening when. this was a lovely afternoon-dinner for her father’s company. no fund-raising, like she’d originally suspected. just a bunch of rich old guys with similarly processed wives, some toting along pouting teenagers. she hadn’t been that awkward at these, had she? lord hope not. she played the part for the first twenty minutes. with her sweet smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and hand-shaking and asking questions she didn’t care about. it was robotic by now. what was new, however, was the role she played after the first half hour. she was the first to snatch a flute of champagne, then struck a defiant pose near the staircase. what was the point anymore? she hadn’t walked these circles in years, and everytime felt more awkward than the last. everyone knew she wasn’t a welcomed member, with her dirty reputation having finally surfaced shortly after graduation. she’d gladly taken the snub, too. about time. all the reason tristan graced everyone with her presence was simply because her father wanted her to. and sometimes, just to remind all these...people that she could still own them all. her words were still sharpest, her glares the most venomous. that’s why the whispers stopped when they passed by her. the sixteen year-olds in satin dresses and too-high heels, pretending they knew how to act in this world. and the mothers in too-short dresses and ugly satin heels. an ugly expression crossed her face everytime one of them stepped in front of her. they scurried off quickly enough. the whispers were more annoying than anything. she just wasn’t that whole fake package anymore. her dress still designer, her boots still one-of-a-kind. the hemline was too short, yes. and she could walk straight in her towering heels, quite unlike everyone else. just with her straightened hair, tucked back behind her ears, and smokey, almost muddy, make-up, she wore something new entirely: originality. she looked presentable, just as effortless as she always did. probably more, like she didn’t care. she didn’t. not really. not anymore. or, more so, did she ever? draining her second flute, tristan abandoned her post in search of a waiter with more liquor. instead, she found her parents. great. both of whom were flirting shamelessly with someone else. what, were they swingers now? it was her father who stopped his conversation when she passed by. he eyed her empty glass, but made no farther reference. ”have you tried any of the appetizers, tristan? they are just divine.” the lady in the ugly purple dress said something that sounded like agreeing with him. ”no. i haven’t. i’m not hungry.” the defense was apparent in her words, even as she quickly swiped another flute. ”but you didn’t eat this morning. and champagne on an empty stomach...” his words, however, were cautious, like walking on glass. bringing up her lack of eating? again? sigh. ”i said i wasn’t hungry. and it’s a party.” she spoke viciously, not bothering to lower her voice. ”don’t bother with the bones quip, mr. silver. everyone has them,” she snarled before draining her glass in one sip, turning her back on him. the heels of her boots clickering on the dark hardwood, she weaved through the crowd toward...well, she didn’t actually know. she didn’t care, either. ”oh yes, she’s been looking terrible lately.” wonder who that could be about. stopping, tristan turned to face her mother, arms crossed over her thin torso. ”just a mess. she is just stuck in some sort of phase, i’m afraid. i can only hope i get my little girl back.” was this woman so self-absorbed, she didn’t realize her little girl was standing right there? ”but the last ten pounds she finally lost is making up for that. unfortunate i took it on myself.” speaking in her distant voice, tristan stepped forward to her mother, knocked the divine appateizer from her hand, and smiled once. ”she lost it by not eating, mommy. try that.” placing her empty champagne flute on the closest tray, she shot both of her parents the steel-eyed look that scared both of them, and turned and strided right through the front door. family time. she just loved it. she hadn’t bothered to drive that morning. bad idea. her apartment was barely a fifteen minute walk from the area of the valks where the empty mansions were. immediate regretting of that. she’d left her sweater on the couch, too. and she was cold. january in california is still january. whatever. easily decending down the streets, arms crossed tightly, tristan didn’t even know where she was going. like home was appealing. what would she do? stare at her empty fridge, watch some bad tv, and then count the calories that had been in that champagne? real fun. years of running around in four inch heels was rewarding. that was the good thing from today - he feet didn’t hurt. yay for the shit she didn’t care about? which is why it was almost surprising when she discovered she’d walked all the way to the core of valkyrie. downtown. surprisingly busy for the odd hour between the normal people who left work, and the workaholics who ditched their office for a quick dinner before returning to work. she saw the sixteen year-olds in little slip dresses, certain they could party at the inferno tonight. she, at twenty-one, still had trouble getting in there. she saw the happy families with innocent twelve year-olds, taking in every moment of family time as they could. in two years, they wouldn’t be seeing their children, ever. and everyone in between. pausing at a corner, she leaned against the lamp post to inspect her nails. the crosswalks in this city took forever, and the drivers were never award-worthy. the people standing there expectantly were just wasting time. arching an eyebrow, tristan looked up, examining her surroundings. maybe she’d do the bar thing tonight. getting harassed by your parents - even hers - always counted for copious amounts of alcohol. it always hurt, even after twenty-something years of it. hm. just where? her blue eyes looked around, pondering her options.[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, tronny !
LENGTH, 1781 words.
ATTIRE, hurr.
NOTES, eh, this is really awkward. but yay.<3
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "burning in the skies"
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Post by donald jeremy davis on Jan 30, 2011 0:38:20 GMT -6
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------ Donny had never really planned for anything in his life before. He was realizing that lately. It was strange though, wasn't it? Didn't most people dream of and in fact plan for their futures? He never did. He might make plans for himself a few days in advance, sometimes even a few weeks for a job or something but other that he never planned for his future. He knew he was in the moment and in the recent moments he had been enjoying being Donald Davis. He enjoyed being A.Heyward the past five years as well. He enjoyed being a hacker. He enjoyed not caring. Everything was screwed up, but everything had always been screwed up. It was what he knew. It was they all knew. Things would be even weirder if they weren't. But despite everything being fucked, it still made sense to him. He was Donald Davis. Son of the bastard with the silly name, David Davis and his wife Iris. That's what he had been raised to believe. That's who he was raised. And that was all he needed to know. His family's shit, they all were except Iz. Other than her, he had never had a family and he never would and he had accepted that and in fact maybe considered it was for the better. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if he had a family, a good family. He would bring them into his world? No, no family was better. It was just less complicated and better.
------ The infamous computer hacker was currently just trying to get some air. It's not like he had done any work to confirm it yet. He was probably getting worried about nothing. He felt a buzzing in his pocket. He reached into it and pulled out his cellphone. It was Kale. Donny shook his head slightly but clicked 'accept call' anyways before putting the phone to his left ear. "Did you blow anything up you weren't supposed to?" He heard Kale's heavy accented voice reply gruffly from the other end of the cell, "define supposed to?" Donny rolled his eyes, "Anything I own or the house?" Donny smirked to himself as he passed some people on the street as he heard Kale's chuckling, "No, course not mate. You can trust me, besides, Orion's in the room." He added in a tone that Donny noticed sounded sort of disappointed. Yeah, they very rarely leave Kale alone. Donny nodded waiting for Kale to continue with what he called for but all he could hear was muffled arguments on the other side. One voice belonging to the 6'5" muscular mass that doubled as a human being known as Orion that made both Kale and Donny look short at 6'2 and 6'1". And the other voice being that of his British friend. He heard some more incomprehensible bickering before some ruckus and them scrambling for the phone before he heard Kale exclaim a yelp of pain quickly before he heard Orion's voice on the line, "Is your friend always going to be this complicated, Donny?" Donny took a deep breath, damn, he was hoping Kale would win the fight for the phone. "He lives in a world like ours, what do you think?"
------ It was not like Donny disliked Orion. Orion was sort of the closest thing he had to a brother, sort of. I don't know. It worked, the point was Orion had let something slip, not realizing Donny had not known and Donny was not in the mood to speak of it. Not yet. "Good point." He heard Orion acknowledge on the other end before continuing with a deep breath, "Look Donny, don't be surprised if when you get back your boy has a fucked up nose, and I just wanted you to know, I didn't know you didn't." Donny rolled his eyes, "Yeah I know. But look we can deal with the proof later. I don't really give a damn." Donny heard Orion kick something before hearing a groan, "that works, not like you can change it right, we are who we are." "And we're not the fucking Brady Bunch." He heard Orion laugh, "Fuck right, and good thing too, we would all be fucking bored. See ya later man." He said before hanging up. What had Donny learned? What had Orion over heard once and let it out, assuming Donny had already known for years? He was not the son of David and Iris. Iris was not his mother. David had found and raped a woman he wanted out of boredom and attraction. A married woman. He stayed with her before taking Donny away and having his own wife raise him. Donny could have had a different life. But like Orion said, nothing can be changed, they are who the are.
------ Donny liked to think he would just ignore it but chances are, when he gets the time, he'll be searching his way through medical records and finding his birth mother. Whether that means he would confront her or not was another question. After all, he was the product of rape. He looked up as he neared a cross walk and placed the cell back in his pocket. As he crossed the street he looked across the way, kitty corner to where he had just been to see a familiar face. An old friend I guess you could call her. He had fixed her computer once upon a time and they had shockingly become friends, one of the reasons he enjoyed it was because Andie had not. Back then, Donny was always the guy with tons of hot girl friends but no hot girlfriends. Get the difference. But then there had been Andie and she played with him like a toy. Which is why part of him didn't feel so bad about leaving. She had come back to him and had seemed to be trying to be there for him when Iz died but chances are, as soon as he got better she would be back to the other of millions of guys she had been with through out the start of their relationships. Donny just liked that every so often he got to play with her too. He smiled and jogged through the street slightly to catch up with her on the other side, but as he walked towards her, she sort of began to walk past him. He smiled and turned around back to her, "Tristan Silver?" He called out to her, he waited for her to turn around to continue, "Please tell me you haven't forgotten me... I mean sure, I just fixed your computer but I thought we had something special." He added, his signature sarcasm playing through.
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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; tronny<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'we used to wait' by arcade fire
CLOTHES;; Here because I've decided vests suit him
NOTES;; LATENESS!! ahhh hope the small god mod was okay, if it's not, I can change it.
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Post by tristan valencia silver on Feb 14, 2011 1:03:32 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. LATE AFTERNOON. VALKYRIE STREETS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] ,FIVE YEARS AGO things had been fucked. four years ago, things had been really fucked. three years, even more really fucked. two years, now that's when she embraced the fucked. today, she lived as the fucked. see, tristan silver did not spend the last five years doing nothing. she did a lot, for your information. none of it was according to her agenda, but plenty of tasks were accomplished. she spent the last years of her high school career humiliating everyone in this stupid town; she walked circles around any social circle she wanted; she was the it girl of valkyrie, california. people like that get a faux scholarship to an ivy league, thrive by cheating, then move on to the world like the pretty little squares they are. if she had followed that path like planned, nothing would have been accomplished. you don't own life simply because you grow fluffy white wool and call yourself a successful sheep. by the tristan dicitionary of definitions that are always correct, accomplishment is accomplishing. y'know, doing shit you actually want to do? everyone has their own wishlist they'll probably never bring to light. if you cross a note off that list, you've accomplished something. wow, you passed a test. what have you accomplished? permisison to do another test! congratulations for you. no. tristan silver had done many things over the years, accomplishing (sick of that word yet?) one thing at a time. or one thing. but it was more than most did.
so, where does this "five years ago, things were fucked..." bull come in? well, my friend, that is how the first accomplishment was made. she was born into the perfect world, the one most people have wetdreams about. unsuccessful cw television shows are modelled after her life. perfect town, perfect bank, perfect parents, perfect looks. everything was perfect. she had everything, could get anything. it's not that hard when you have looks, money and a bad attitude. and for eighteen years, she had everything. she owned this town. so, being the raining queen bitch of a small town in california is something to be proud of. like how she failed her physics diploma was something to be proud of. or how she got rejected by every college she secretly applied for. the raining queen bitches of the world often grow up to be fatter with more annoying kids than the rest of the population. they have beige minivans, too. now that is what i call an accomplishment.
no. all of that, just fucking no. she followed the plan for eighteen years. she walked the yellow brick road to ivy league and marriage and unhappy alcoholic children. she didn't get to oz, but she walked enough of the path. more than enough, actually. if she had done exactly what her parents told her to do, she'd be growing up to be just like them. cheating and plastic. cold shiny hard plastic. that's what all of that shit is - pretty on the outside, cold and empty on the inside. she knew that all along, she did. it was just too comfortable to realize it. remy realized it long before tristan did. when she was twelve, she was blowing steam out of her ass, about how she couldn't wait to break free and travel the world and feed the homeless and all the other crap tristan deemed ridiculous. at the time, she'd honeslty thought she was going to grow up as the perfect silver girl. that remy was just some reject who thought she knew better. maybe she should have listened to her older sister. because, here we are, with tristan following a very similar path her sister had. it took awhile longer, but she'd veered off the golden road before she sold her soul. the beginning, the middle, the end - it's all the fucking same. see? no. just no. you become a suburbanite, or you become like the elder silvers. accomplishment city! five years ago, she'd been walking the yellow brick road to accomplishment city, and that'd been fucked. four years ago, she was conflicted. started to rebel. that was really fucked. three years, she had no idea what the fuck she was doing. two years ago, she got her trust fund. that's when she could start embracing the really fucked. the phrase "no. just fucking no." finally made sense to her.
she behaved because she wanted her trust fund. the big fat bank account she got access to on her eighteenth birthday. the one her parents withheld because she wasn't going to college. but when you're twenty years old and cry in a lawyer's office because your parent's are denying your independence, you tend to get what you want. eighteen years of the yellow brick road taught her that, duh. when the pretty checkbook arrives with your name on it, you usually get to do what you want without any concequences. she got what she wanted out of her parents - their money. same shit everyone else wanted from them. she didn't have to play the game anymore. what was keeping her playing? high school was over. her friend(s?) were off living their golden lives. and she was here, in valkyrie, bored. no ambition. no reason to move. so she pretended to move on. signed a lease, didn't get a job, partied with on new territory. things had been fucked five years ago. they'd been really, really fucked three years ago. two years ago, she stopped trying to understand what was really fucked. money plus freedom equals no thinking - that was her mentality. if you don't get it, just go with it. go with the flow, if we're going seventies. just no john lennon glasses. the only reason she continued to walk was because she wanted her trust fund. her loyalty to the rich cause evaporated when her 'scandal star' identity was discovered. just embrace the dark side.
the dark side doesn't judge. as long as you bring vodka and your sex drive, they don't care who the fuck you are. she didn't quite understand how things went from shiny golden valk perfect to rich shak girl in a short skirt, but she didn't try. trying was for years past. besides, everytime she walked the dark line, she didn't come out of it feeling like shit. every single fucking time she decided to play nice with the other game, she wanted to throw herself in front of a bus. an ugly expression on her face, tristan fiddled around for her damp pack of cigarettes. she was thinking too much. playing nice always made her think too much. she stopped trying to understand, and things finally came together (in a pathetic way, but still). stop thinking, and maybe she'd get to succeed in something. read all of that mess up there, and you'd see why thinking hurt too much. it didn't make any sense. does that, up there, make any sense? no. so there. shut up. she lit her cigarette, the bland nothing she'd taken off some guy from last night. smoking what one habit she carried into her lovely new lifestyle. so shut up again. she didn't even realize where she was going, thinking too much. musing over crap that made no sense; literal or why she was doing it in the first place. walking down the street, that's all she knew. occasionally bumping shoulders with someone, hearing their disgruntled curse. she didn't care, with her signature nonchalant swagger. "Please tell me you haven't forgotten me... I mean sure, I just fixed your computer but I thought we had something special." she bumped shoulders with him twice, when he turned around to her direction.
the years had been good to him. she didn't recognize captain geek, but she couldn't ignore someone who spoke more than two words to her. pausing her gait, tristan boredly scanned donny davis. correction, the years had been very good to him. he was well on the spectrum of attractive now. lazily taking a drag of her cancer stick, she raised her manicured eyebrows. "you still talk too much, davis." ignoring the shuffling crowds around them, she turned to face him fully. she toyed with her tasteless cigarette, continued to gaze at him. "impressive. i usually only get that after the first date. a word i use loosely. she drawled her words, amusement crossing into them far too soon for her liking. she only ever got the "connection" crap from sensitive losers who just had their hearts broken by sally the virgin. and there was never a date. a half-minded fuck, yes. date, no. she smirked. as this was clearly not the heartbroken whoever - the one stupid enough to get involved with andie wallace in the first place. she didn't even want to touch that one on his list of mistakes (she was sure there was a long one). "anyway," she continued her nonchalant drawl, "i want to know why you never bothered to act on our something special." stepping closer to him, positioning her half-burned cigarette in her left hand, she snaked her right around around his waist in one swift movement. "so, where are we going?" she pulled on him, motioning to go down the street. [/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, tronny !
LENGTH, 1546 words.
ATTIRE, hurr.
NOTES, meeeeeess.<3 like, really bad. hope the ending was okay. if not, i can change. :]
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "burning in the skies"
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Post by donald jeremy davis on Mar 12, 2011 16:35:48 GMT -6
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------ His family is such a big part of him, Donny's history really starts way back in the early 1900's when his ancestors founded a gang with two other families the Hughes and the Richardsons, although the Hughes was the main founder so he became the Boss, putting his best friend, Davis at his side as second in command and so it's been since. The gang was called the Sirens and deal in the black market, fraud but their most profiting business of drugs. They were suppliers to major drug dealers. They were murderers and heros and rebels and freedom fighters and hooligans and prostitutes and pimps. The lowest ranking tending to be thugs and drug addicts who enjoy being closer to the sort but the higher ranks as in the original three families, tended not to actually do drugs, but they had the control of them. The highest ranks needed to be trusted to have a clear head to do their jobs. In 1976 they were called the largest and most powerful gang to hit the country since the original mobs. Sirens formed an alliance with the Italian mob and a grudge with the Irish mob. Sirens started in Detroit, moved to Chicago and New York and were takin' the east coast as their territory, mainly taking out the Irish mob who had control of the east coast. But in exchange for the help of Italian mob which worked mostly on the west coast the Sirens stay out of the west coast apart from a solitary job or meeting every once and awhile. West Coast for the Italians and East Coast for the Sirens and that was the way they did it. Now as the mobs tended to live in huge flashy houses, Sirens lived in small apartments and broken warehouses. Sirens thrived on being basically a huge, organized, old and traditional gang but a street gang none the less, something the mobs had never been.
------ It wasn't really present in Donny but with Liz, or Widow and even Orion, and Izzy back when... well just, before, they all have (or had) a slight ebonic accent when they get put into the inner cities and surrounded with that more urban culture((side note. anna does too lol)). Donny never had it but that's because he really only socialized with Iz who didn't have it around him, and Kale who was fucking British. The streets of Chicago was his home still. He hadn't been there in years. He grew up in a warehouse with a worm mattress on the floor for a bed, running out of the way as his siblings knocked off stores for practice and fun. It was strange to think about but he would never lose his Siren culture and if anything, he had embraced it more in the past five years. He wasn't a vicious sister-raping brother-murdering killer like some of the crazier sirens but he had taken his first three kills. He lived without consequence. Went where he want, when he wanted. He began sleeping with girls he didn't really give a damn about. He drank. He had even tried Absinthe. He felt more alive and he had never been closer to death. Donny was on a downward slope, he knew that and he embraced it. Appreciated the chance to just not fucking care about things for a change. He loved it. He was himself. He felt powerful. And like Kale always said, if you're drunk and upside down, downward slopes are upward ones anyways.
------ Was Donny anywhere near as deep into shit as Kale was? No but for Donny to find out he has a real family just as his behavior became more dangerous sucked ass. He was better off forgetting they even existed. And what a better way to forget than drink? Helped after Izzy died anyways, his recently discovered HALF sister. Nix that. Parental biology aside, she was his sister through and through. He smirked as Tristan acknowledged him, "you still talk too much, davis." What a Tristan thing to say. Him and Tristan were actually friends five years ago. Sort of. He had helped fix her computer. Figured out that she was that stalker blogger going around, Scandal Star. And somehow the nerdy badass and slutty princess had formed a friendship. "Glad to see you're still the bitch, Silver." he replied with friendly amusement playing on his tone. Knowing her, she would probably take it as a compliment anyways. Besides, she knows he dated Andie, obviously he has nothing against bitches. He was also good friends with Widow even back then. It was clear, their type of women didn't throw him off. Andie was able to dig the claws in but she was the only one. Widow actually cared about Donny too much and Tristan and him were only weird friends. "impressive. i usually only get that after the first date. a word i use loosely."
------ Donny reached forward to her hand and took the cigarette from it. He pulled it up to his lips and took a hit off of it before placing it back in her hand. He smiled as he exhaled, "That's not all you like to use loosely if I remember correctly." He gave her a side grin. He was different. Five years ago, he probably would have never spoken to her like that. I mean, he wouldn't let her have her way all the time, he was never a doormat but he usually wasn't so honest on what his mind was saying. He didn't censor himself much anymore. Why bother? No one believed in censorship lately. So what was the point? "i want to know why you never bothered to act on our something special." He chuckled slightly as she stepped to wrap her arm around him and urged him to walk. "Are you forgetting my blonde mistake?" He asked her as he walked with her down the street. Donny was referring to Andie as he said that. He knew Tristan and Andie were never exactly on great terms. And for the record, he did, at the moment, see the relationship with Andie as both a mistake and a good thing. He had adored her. She had repeatedly broken his heart. And by the time she actually seemed ready, Iz was dead and he wasn't. So he left and he can only assume, hurt her. Maybe it was a good thing because it meant he woke up to reality. But it was a mistake because nothing but pain came from it. Donny shrugged when Tristan asked him their destination. "Well, I haven't been here in years, what's still in business that has the best drinks, townie?"
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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; tronny<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'we used to wait' by arcade fire
CLOTHES;; Here because I've decided vests suit him
NOTES;; late but omg semi-ass donny is a hot donny
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Post by tristan valencia silver on Apr 18, 2011 0:59:09 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY 2012. LATE AFTERNOON. VALKYRIE STREETS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] ,HER LIFE HAD not gone the way it was supposed to. not at all. not in any reality, any dream she'd had as a child. one chapter introduced her as tristan silver, happily attending brown university, with a boyfriend she didn't cheat on, and then march off into the world with a perfect job and a perfect husband. then they have a kid and everything is perfect. another offers a lukewarm degree, a boring job, and a marrage to the boss. two kids, too much plastic surgery and five vacation homes later, she would look in the mirror and see her mother. a future even offered complete happiness. doing what she wanted, with who she wanted, where she wanted. and everything in between. five years ago, tristan silver could have had any life she wanted. everything was within her reach. even if she decided to veer off course and hide in the corn fields, there was a world of possibility. she had no plan to follow, but her life was supposed to go a certain way. it always was. and that way was good. up. strong. fucking perfect. she never knew how it would turn out, but she always knew it was going to be burning really fucking bright. that was what a silver did, sail above everyone else. higher, better, faster. but what she knew and what happened, well those were two very different things.
her possibilities had been limitless. her potential had been unmatched. and the futures were out there, keen to be picked. what the hell could go wrong? apparently if you veer off course, hide out in the corn fields, and then keep going, everything fades to black. she was living in the barren wasteland of failure, and no one was giving her a map for the way out. hey, there's an app for that! but apparently her phone didn't sponser that one. fuck you, apple. for the past five years, tristan had been wandering around, preying she stumbled through some door to bright futuredom. all she'd done is fade farther into the maze. everywhere was new, and she had long stopped looking at her surroundings. what was the point? everything about this topic was in past tense. was, had been, would have. fuck. whatever. she had stopped caring a long time ago. everytime she tried to find a way out, she just ended up lying in a ditch somewhere. if she shut up and accept that her life was over before it even began, at least she kept some of her dignity. the dignity you and everyone else sweep up and don't bother throwing out because it's just dust and no one cares and it'll spread out eventually. that's what happens to people who wander off the path but stay in the room.
and it had taken her five long years to find a comfortable crack in the floor of that room. here she was, some townie with a screwed-up past and no visible future. you get used to it. she was getting bored of thinking about it, complaining about it. no one was listening. no one cared. hell, she didn't even care. it was just all she had. lurking around the bloodshed of battles long over, staying in the ashes no one was rising from. if she couldn't obsess over what was, what could of been, and what was staring her right in the face, what did she have? drinking vodka? having shameless sex? it got boring after awhile. the only reason she continued was because it numbed her obsession for awhile. at least this was something she was good at, right? and if there was something tristan silver was always taught, it was to play to your strengths. it just so happened that these 'strengths' involved drinking and starving and whoring and the ability to continue because it worked and she didn't want to find anything else. her greatest accomplishment in life was discovering this comfortable crack and accept the fact she was going to rot in there. the only things she excelled at were right here, screwing up in valkyrie, california. deep down, she knew she was going to have to become okay with that. everyone else seemed to think she was. maybe they know best.
maybe she should just sell everything and hire donald davis to run her life. it was something she knew he was good at. boy had an answer for everything, it seemed. well, that's good. she never had the answer. if the position paid enough, maybe he would start immediately. full-time. on call twenty four-seven. or whenever the hell he felt like it. tempting. "five years to master my art." her tone was bored, distracted. her manicured left eyebrow arched, too, surprised. poor boy must have taken up cursing in the last several years. he always thought she was so...whatever. looking only mildly peeved as he took the burning cancer stick from her fingers, tristan soon smirked in reply. possessively gripping the cigarette, she smoked a few times, not bothering to exhale, as he spoke. she just stood there, watching him. first of all, since when is donald davis capable of smiling? secondly, did he make a funny? she wasn't sure he had the ability to do anything other than obsess over like...usb cables and junk. That's not all you like to use loosely if I remember correctly." see what i mean? she also wasn't aware he was capable of being sexy. approval. "and here i was, under the impression it was you who taught me to never listen to the rumor mill." tristan's eyes were suggestive, her tone coy. they both knew neither had given a flying fuck about the burning mill then, and certainly not now. or else he would have run for cover the second her arm slipped around his waist.
blonde mistake? which one? she leaned against his chest as he remarked of his past with andromeda wallace. ugh. what about that girl wasn't a mistake? she was hostessing at some crap restaurant, living in some crap apartment, continuing with her crap life. the only positive of her existence before was she outlived tristan as valkyrie's resident bunny ranch. now that she was living in some hole, and no one was looking for her, it had been the silver girl who earned the pretty title. thanks a lot, andie. "are you honestly assuming the tow-headed sperm dumpster didn't act on her something specials? or are we referring to another mistake? i never could keep up." she was still smirking, the same eyebrow arched as she rebuttled. everyone and their inbred alabama child knew of donny and andie's messy past. something about star-crossed geeky-slutty lovers. they loved each other. or something. but then they decided to be stupid and not want it and refuse and annoy everyone with the back-and-forth nothings. tristan herself had gotten exhausted following. but a good friend - she'd been friends before, with both of them. nast. - listens and keeps up. these is why she didn't do friends.
well, except friendly neighbourhood bartenders. the moment donny mentioned her respectful townie status and the suggestion of liqour, she was on board. the number of smokey pubs in this city was ridiculous. her blue eyes looking up, seeing the swinging sign of something something 'lambs', she moved away from her new companion and kicked open the door. not even waiting for him to follow, she marched across the dusty wooden floors, and up to the curved bar. she'd been here before, i think. it was familiar. some old guy named chuck (i think) was standing, polishing a glass and watching a baseball game. several equally old timers were hanging over the bar, doing the same. a couple was huddled in the corner. and some dude in a suit was at a table by himself, attached to his blackberry. because he belonged here. "chuck here isn't as creepy as the others. vodka cran, leave the bottle." smiling her sweet smile, barely looking at the bartender, she perched herself on one of the stools and looked back at donny. "don't judge. don't complain. come here." [/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, tronny !
LENGTH, 1364 words.
ATTIRE, hurr.
NOTES, eep, late.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "burning in the skies"
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Post by donald jeremy davis on Jun 12, 2011 2:38:21 GMT -6
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------ The way Donny saw it, he had a few options. Go home, wallow to himself about finding out his bastard father lied to him about his birth mother, or try and use Tristan to forget Orion's words. Now, let us delve in deeper to his first option shall we? Alright, we have Daddy Davis, also known as David Davis Senior. Father of six. There was David Davis Jr. then dear ol' Donny himself, followed be the late Isabel Davis, then the twins, Iris and India and last but not least Daniel Davis. David Jr. was always the most beloved. He was fit, he was strong. Dear ol' Daddy Davis loved that boy and hated the scrawny computer nerd of a son he got next. Okay, option one just got docked one point. Continuing. David Jr. has grown into a fine criminal. Loyal, dedicated, but nothing exceptional. Iris, a petty thief at best. India, a stripper and little Danny-boy got his ass caught and thrown in Juvie, while the ignored and scorned scrawny nerd went on to be become one of the youngest and best hackers in the history of this country... Well, brooding on the past option now gets a plus one. Score is still at zero/zero. Moving along. What's next. Dad treats Donny like shit, and now Donny finds out he lied to him his entire life. No big shocker there, kind of predictable and boring actually. That's a minus three. So his mother wasn't his mother. He father was still his father. He was still the son of an ass so what really changed? Again, a boring continuum of shit, minus five for option one.
------ Now, option two. Hanging out with an old friend, plus one. Drinking, plus five. The old friend is Tristan who can be a really massive bitch, plus two with a minus two so that evens out nicely. Possibility of getting laid, and plus ten. We have a winner. Yeah, all the Sirens in their little group had changed over the past five years. Orion was a parolee, Widow was now a law student, although Orion was living a semi-honest life, Widow still had Donny fake her entry to law school. And Liz? Well, Liz was now a lovely, and bored, law abiding citizen. But you know what? Not one of them changed as drastically as Mr. Donald Davis. Liz, Orion, Widow, her friend JR and another Siren by the name of Jasper and Donny all ran off to Detroit to save the life of Kenny's daughter who Liz had just remembered was there. Once there Wid and JR and Jasper broke off to get some things, Donny ran with Liz and Orion until he broke into the DS's office to see who carried out the order to kill Iz. After learning of the two guys names, he found them and without hesitation, without giving them a chance to plead, he shot them both between the eyes. He didn't blink, just gave a small satisfied smirk, before running to find Liz and Orion. That was Donny's first kill and it was a double. And while Liz had her first kill in self defense and almost killed herself from the guilt, Donny didn't feel a damn thing. But lets face it, the darkness in Donny had been growing since he was 16 and his father left him to die.
------ You see, sixteen was a very important year in the defining and refining of new-Donny. When he was sixteen years old, he met a guy named Harrington Chaucer. Funny name, I know. People just called the kid Harry. He was british, and almost a year older than Donny making him seventeen at the time. He was a successful criminal at seventeen too. He had already been working independently for hire for over a year. He was great. Donny and him got along right away despite being so different. Most of the people around Donny did not like him, but they all loved Harry. Everyone loved Harry for some reason. Even Donny's dad. Harry was simply a personality that people were drawn too. Donny liked the guy two but even then he was able to see Harry was a bit unstable, talented as he may be. Harry was hired by the Sirens to do a smash and grab type job. Donny decided to tag along. You see, Harry was a munitions expert but his real specialty was bombs. That's right. Harrington Chaucer was a fake name. Not surprising. Now he goes by another name, another fake name, Kale Barker. Donny is the guy's best friend, Kale's the only one who knows Donny is A.Heyward, but Donny, to this day does not know Kale's real name. Who cares? Donny has known him as so many, adding another to the mix would get confusing.
------ Anyways, Donny had tagged along but he got stuck in the building after it was rigged to blow. Daddy Davis saw his son there, trapped, gave a smile and a joking salute before he turned and continued off. He left him to die. Kale - - Harry... whatever, He was the one who came back for him, knowing his own creation well enough to know he had just enough time to get him out. That was the birth of Donny's dark side. It simply wasn't fully developed until Isabel's death. Luckily, Kale found him before he went too far and taught him how he can use his new found lack of idealism for the sake of fun. And that was where he was at now, FUN. He wasn't going to let go of that now was he? "and here i was, under the impression it was you who taught me to never listen to the rumor mill." Donny smirked slightly as they walked together, "If memory recalls, sweetie, you were the rumor mill." He spoke honestly and amused. That was where their bond really came from. He knew she was Scandal Star. An infamous blogger who studied the lives of the pathetic "populars" and mocked their own existence by playing into their egos and making them both hate her for the intrusion but need her for the low down. The whole thing was actually an incredibly twisted and brilliant show of the power of the internet and anonymity, two things of which Donny whole heartedly approved of for obvious reasons.
------ He laughed at Tristan's retort to his blonde mistake statement. He glanced down at her before placing his eyes in front of him as they crossed another street. "Oh no, we acted on our something special, but you know what I realized? If you have something special with everyone, as she did, then it becomes mediocrity... I don't do mediocrity" He said plainly, as if it was some funny factoid he learned on the history channel, he followed her into the bar, he had also learned the very obvious truth that having something special is highly overrated. Donny smirked as she ordered her drink. "don't judge. don't complain. come here." Donny put his hands up in defense, "No judgement." He sat down at the stool next to her, he looked over at Chuck and nodded, "Irish car bomb," he ordered, a treat he had for the first time actually in Ireland. Probably his favorite drink ever, also it did the job fairly quickly. He turned towards Tristan and smiled. "You look good though, still have your little blog?"
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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; tronny<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'we used to wait' by arcade fire
CLOTHES;; Here because I've decided vests suit him
NOTES;; OMG SO LATE never again, only having posts and plots for him for awhile killed my muse completely so I was focusing on other charries for a bit there.
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