Avatar of DrugMother
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
  • Posts: 32 (0.01 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. DrugMother 10 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts



Mason Crawford ft. Genevieve Simmone
Gene stripped herself of her jacket, revealing a buxom chest fitted with a moschino ready-to-wear sweater she had purchased a couple weeks ago. The sight of the sweater made her wonder as to how she would continue to shop online if this school was suppose to be a secret. She pushed the thought aside, 'where there is a will, there is a way... she thought cryptically, pulling a golden cigarette case out of her purse and stuffing it as far into the designer jeans as they would fit.

She walked through the halls with the same rigid elegance she would exihibit in her home at Monaco. Gene's ego was affectionately stroked by the oncoming seige of stares the student body emitted in regards to her presence. Gene was aware that many would view her pythons as an unnattractive quality, but she was even more aware of the fact her body would often over shadow their presence. Though, the fear that her python's envoked often gave her more of a rush than those of admiration.

She reached the exterior of the school only to meet eyes with the smoker from before. She pulled out a smoke and silently motioned for a lighter.

"Mason, right?"

Mason looked up from his scribbles, seeing the tall, snake-haired supermodel from earlier. She'd remembered his name, too; he felt oddly visible at this school. Nobody ever remembered his name, and in some ways it was a step out of his comfort zone, but he'd be lying if he said not even a little bit of him enjoyed it. He noticed the cigarette hanging from her plump lips, and her gesture suggested she needed a light. Mason obliged, handing her his cheap Zippo lighter.

"Yeah," he said, quite enamoured by the fierceness of the woman. "That's me." He tried desperately to remember her name, but for the life of him he couldn't. He didn't imagine she would take this kindly... Had she even shared her name earlier on? He was great with names, he figured if she'd revealed it, he'd remember.

"I'm sorry, I uh... I don't think I caught your name earlier." he said apologetically.

She glanced as he handed her his lighter. She flipped open steel lid to be greeted with the familiar scent of butane. Her python's gravitated to the smell, a smell that brought on nostaliga of her home and of the country that was so repulsed with her existance. For most these thoughts would bring a somber saddness, but to Gene it recreated the sobering, addictive taste of the bitterness of reality.

Gene allowed the flame to dance for a few seconds longer than needed before she extinguished it with a promptness. Fierce yellow eyes grabbed hold of the young man's stare as she returned his device. All while maintaining the light smoke at the corner of her bare lips.

Her lips curved to a smile as she recognized the familiar tone of a premptive apology. Pulling the smoke from between her lips, she slowly exhaled a plume of grey smoke, then lowered her hand to display her full face. The pythons all followed the motion of the smoke, twisting and turning to her right side.

"---Mon joli garcon, calm yourself...It's Genevieve." She added a decorative stress on the 's' at her own bizzare bemusement. "--So, where do you come from?" she asked, taking another drag from her smoke.

"--And seemingly more importantly, why did you come?"

Mason was almost entranced by the way Genevieve spoke. Her words were fluid and seductive, flowing from her mouth like honey. Not only that, but did she just call him her pretty boy? She was hypnotising. So much so, in fact, that when she fired a question at him he almost didn't register it. It took him a moment to reply.

"Well, I came here from Berlin," he said finally, pausing a moment. "I've lived there for almost three years. But originally, I'm from England. Dad's German." he said, keeping the information about his lineage brief and blunt. He didn't like to dwell on it, and he figured the less attention he paid it, the less others would, too.

The second question was less expected, but he answered it nonetheless. "Uh, I guess I'm here for the same reason you are." he said, nodding at the impressive serpents that sprouted from the woman's scalp and smiling. "What about you?" he asked, a tone of interest in his voice. "Your accent is just... Magique." he said, emphasising the last word.

She listened intently to his words, his accent was interesting to her ear, every 'i' and 'a' entraced the attention of her snakes. Having lived in the sheltered world she did, she had never heard an English accent in person. Western accents did not interested her, TV and movies had run their novelty into the ground. Mason however still had a charm to it.

When the young man mentioned Berlin it wrung a bell in her head. "--Ah Berlin is close to the Ukraine, no?" She questioned, envisioning a foggy map of Russia and the rest of europe as she asked the question.

The lad seemed quite secretive, resistant to share more information with her. It was not in an aggressive or antisocial fashion, or so she assumed. His last response was not at all what she had expected. She was hoping he would reveal his mutation, not some vague inversion of the question she had originally posed. She ignored his comment on her accent because to Gene, it did not exist. Everyone else had an accent.

"No, you cheeky boy. What got you in?" She repeated, playfully narrowing her eyes at the fellow. He reminded her of a servant she had once had named Nando. Nando had been a mischivious imp of a servant, constantly answering in riddles and hiding bizzare objects throughout her wing of the home. Cheeky, Cheeky Nando...

"--I am here because I can not go outside in Monaco without screams of horror or an attempted assassination. Simple."

Mason's eyes widened at the girl's confession. "That... That really fucking sucks, Genevieve." he said, taking a moment to consider what it might be like living with a physical mutation like hers. "I'm sorry you have to put up with shit like that." He'd never seen someone with a mutation that manifested externally before, and now in the space of a day he'd seen Genevieve and Zach. It made him realise how lucky he was to be able to hide his power... And he did a pretty good job at it, too.

"I'm not here because I was threatened or anything like that," admitted Mason. "Nor was I a threat, really. It just became a pain in the arse to not be able to control shit, you know?" he said, instantly realising that, considering the woman had a head of snakes, Genevieve probably knew.

"Yeah," he said, looking away from the girl and out over the grounds. "You know. I know you know."

"Not really. Monaco is hot and poor." Gene calmly brushed away his sympathetic remarks towards her story. She had lived a privledged life, despite being isolated in a luxurious 'prison' due to her father and nations intolerance. If she really wanted, she could have worn a burqa out but headscarves only came into fashion a couple months ago...

"Call me Gene. Genevieve is too much of...of a mouth full."

"I had to put up with nothing I did not want. If I did, I did not care. Small minded people are as perpetual as sunrise and sunset." She was perplexed by the sentiment of sorrow that his tone carried. Prehaps if she had come from a more impoverished family she could empathize better with this emotion. Though, she did not and could not. Money was incredibly persuasive, if not that then controlling.

The rest of Mason's words certainly resonated on some level with the medusa. "--I would rather manipulate than control; To manipulate you have an understanding. To control you simply need force." She mumbled, taking another swift drag of her cigarette. She glanced down at his sketch book, her poor vision blurring whatever image he was sketching.

Aesthetic was everything to her, the fine arts were something she held close. Whether it was for it's expressive purpose or its decorative.

"What is it that you draw?" Gene mumbled, changing the conversation.

Mason glanced down at the single torn page, crammed full of his notes and doodles. "It's nothing specific, really," he said. It sounded like an attempt at modesty, but it was the truth. There were so many ideas manifested upon the paper that it would have been difficult to properly articulate. "Just ideas, you know?" he said, feeling a little sheepish. "They tend to all come at once, and I just kinda have to purge them out somewhere so I don't forget them."

"I guess it's a more...health responsible purging...." She murmured, moving closer to the journal to take in the mosaic of designs that lay across the egg-shell pages. She was close enough to Mason that the breathing of her pythons caused his hair to dance ever-so-lightly. Gene was interested in the chaotic designs that painted the page. Her own hobbie was one of percision and accuracy but she could empathize with the expressive aspect of the outlet. She took a long drag of her smoke; admiring the images. "I like it. Grungy."

The hairs on Mason's neck stood to attention as the woman leaned close to him, he could feel each individual breath of the snakes upon his skin. "Uh, thanks," he said, assuming she was just being polite. He wasn't really interested in complements on ideas alone; once he'd turned the good ones into art, then he'd take notice.

Gene abruptly stood up, nonchalantly painting the top of one of her python's head; "--It's been nice meeting you. Hope to engage with you later." She nodded, turning her attention to cooing her pets as she leisurely walked away; still puffing lighty on the half finished cigarette.

Mason watched as the girl rose and gracefully departed. It had all happened a bit suddenly... He hoped he hadn't offended her. Though, something about the woman told Mason she wasn't easily offended. He stood up and headed back inside the academy, tucking his sheet of scribbles into his pocket as he made his way towards the dormitories.
I've never really done a collab before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything, eh? Sure.


yess I am doing one with Tyler right now but its going to be after I leave the dorm, do you wanna do one thats like we meet up in the dorm and ext. It will just be like a candid of how their relationship will be so the placement really doesn't matter (time wise)
Thanks-I really appreciate that.


Hey hun, would you be down to do a collab?
Gene had been in a helicopter for multiple hours. She was strung out and unhappy with the bland, northern surroundings that were now to be called her home. She was terribly surprised she hadn’t been allowed to take her jet here, but then again was not going to engage with her father over something so trivial. It was evident his reasoning behind stuffing her into a black, nameless helicopter to Portwood. The Grimaldi’s had recently been on another anti-mutant up roar and her arrival into Monaco notoriety would have been poorly timed if her fathers jet had been reported anywhere near this school. She had not been allowed a single cigar nor cigarette the entire journey.

The helicopter landed in a clearing in the middle of a dense alpine forest. It was the first time Gene had ever smelt the ever-greens in real life. She had to admit that their natural scent was much more appealing than the yankee candle rendition. The force of the air that the propellers emitted caused her burqa to flutter violently as she quickly light up a cigarette while inspecting her employees handling of her very expensive luggage. She took slow drags of her cigarette, the nicotine relieving some of the pain that her withdrawal struck her with.

The car that was going to transport her to Portwood was clearly school property. The driver’s suit held the school’s logo on his left breast pocket. She turned her head, inspecting the helicopter crew as the black fabric that uncovered her twisted and turned in the torrent of wind. Genevieve pulled down the fabric that hid her face, viperous eyes scanning her father’s crew to find her mark. Faint hisses could be heard from under the 800 thread Egyptian cotton burqa as her pythons clearly personified the stress of the withdrawal.

“Matheo.” she coldly demanded, yellow eyes narrowing in on a character who’s occupation seemed to be more with getting off the helicopter than back on. He was clearly taking his time and Gene was clearly aware of why he was so languid with the task. His head reared with a sense of fear as she spoke his name. She, currently, held the potential to make or break his life.

“Matheo, my love, come here….” She murmured, the mouthing of the words apparently vivid enough for the terrified man to hesitantly approach her.

Together they walked a several meters from the helicopter. The mighty winds that the machine blew phazed the content of their conversation out from the others that continued with their task. She had roughly 34 different bags, excluding shoe and hat containers. She was glad the school had sent a van.

It would have been insulting to send a smaller vehicle in her opinion.

“Matheo, you want to join your family here, no?” She rhetorically asked, the silhouette of her figure become distorted as her babies began to hiss and curl underneath the sheet. Matheo’s eyes were paralyzed in a sort of fear. He had been her servant for many years and was aware of how calously erratic her temper could be. The withdrawal only added more danger to her mood swings.

“Yes, mam” he replied in French, eyes locking with the woman’s own.

She smiled at the man, turning her head to admire his shaking jaw structure as a cold hand brushed the side of his face. She reached into a small clutch on the side of her body and pulled out a yellow envelope. “Your documents, my love.”She purred

“I-I have everything you need. Transported 19 kilos of cocaine and 5 kilos of herion. My men have opened up a free trading port to the states as well to perpetuate the supply.”

“I am so glad you understand your citizenship ends when my supply does!” She complimented, smiling with a cynical brightness as the man’s eyes failed to reach her’s. “Here, take this. There is a cellphone in the envelope as well. The second you disappoint me, the second your entire family gets deported. Understand, my love?”

“Yes, mam” He nodded, grabbing the package like a starved animal at a bite of flesh.

She gave him a kiss on the mouth, brushing away an suspicious ideas with that of an affair and calmly walking away from the fellow who scuttled after her to aid her into the car.

The ride was long but she was tired, she slept the throughout the entire route.

she arrived at the meeting spot first. there was no one else but her. She removed her burqa to reveal a 2016 summer season Moschino dress and a pair of name brand heels that cost more than the helicopter she rode in on.

As the hours past, more and more students arrived. She did not care for their present and she found their banter as trivial as that of the servants who use to crowd her mansion.

Towards the end, a figure approached. She inferred by his strikingly angular jaw that her was clearly european, his casual, yet fashionable dressed implied he was an artistic fellow with more to offer than his meek manner suggested. He asked for a light.

She heard a scoff. Her snakes reared their heads towards a tiny man and his violently, her viperous eyes glaring at the fellow as she laughed under her breath. “Oh, for such a tiny excuse for a man, you have such an unneedingly loud opinion.” She scoffed, abrasively brushing past him as she pulled an expo from her pocket, and held it closely to his smoke but a young girl quickly replaced the need for her tool.

“I guess we have our very own organic expo, here.” she shrugged, giving a little golf clap to the brunette who had just done all the “heavy” lifting for her. Consequently, she light her own cigarette next to the two, silently offering the human-lighter a cigarette as she exhaled a cancerous drag from her own.

“That’s a cute party trick, mon aime” she chimed in, a tad condescendingly but all in good humour.

PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016

Student Name: Geneviève “Gene” Rose-Ore Simmone

Gender: Female

Nationality: Monégasque

Age: 19

D.O.B.:December 4th, 1996


Appearance



Hair Color: Multiple albino labyrinth burmese pythons replace their hair

Eye Color: Dark yellow irises with slit pupils and bright yellow sclera.

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Height: 5'11

Weight: 135lb


Powers & Abilities

Power Name: Prehensile trichokinesis with healing potential

Power Description:
"Asides from the obvious physical mutation, these snakes can grow up to 20 feet in length and inject a powerful healing serum. My physiology also mimics some that of a pythons .

Abilities:
In detail; what does your gift allow you to do?


"When father got me 'probed' the shrink typed this up"

Gene is a copy cat Gorgon. Her power’s are very alike to those of the mythological serpentine beast.

Her main power is prehensile trichokinesis; Otherwise known as “hair manipulation”. The difference between most with this power and Gene, is that her ‘hair’ is composed of snakes. The venom that each snake contains is not lethal, but the polar opposite. The “venom” is an extremely powerful healing substance that can cure aliments ranging from physical wounds to tumours. Gene’s yellow pythons are incredibly resilient and are not severed easily.

Gene also manifests many of the physiological adaptations of a snake. This includes a flexibility that is parallel to professional contortionists. This is complimented by her collapsable spine and ribcage. While her eyesight is certainly lacking, her body is incredibly sensitive to vibrations and can detect movement through vibration in the air and ground.

"Thanks doctor Duebeau."

Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
In detail; what are the limitations and weaknesses of your power?


"I have not done this much writing in years, forgive the fact I keep copying and pasting to save my wrists."

Gene has incredibly bad vision. Her prescription for both eyes is an average of -5.00. Due her bizarre eye physiology, she can not wear contacts and is forced to wear glasses.

The snakes can not extent past 20 feet. The do not move more than 30mph at their fastest.

Gene is cold blooded; She is incredibly sensitive to changes in temperature. If her surroundings become too cold, she either enters a sleep like state and can even die.

If an individual strikes her snakes, she feels the pain just as strongly as the snake does. They are appendages, not separate entities although they do display a level of sentient awareness.

"Thanks doctor Duebeau."


About You

Family:
Edward William Simmone (Father)
Rose-marie Simmone ([DECEASED]Mother)
Shirley Vontutton ([EX]Step-mother)
Cameron-sue Sagness-Knight ([EX]Step-mother)
Edward Jr. Simmone (brother)
Maximillian Simmone-Vontutton (Step/half brother)
Millienum-marie Simmone-Knight (step/half Sister)

Personal Statement:
I was born in Monaco to the second richest Monégasque family next to the Grimaldi's. My father was the heir who fell hopelessly in love with my mother while he was visiting the Ukraine. My mother was definitely the one who wore the pants, or so the servants use to tell me.
My father was a Lord Henry, Dorian Gray-esque sort of man. Aesthetic was everything to him and I certainly agreed with this belief. My mother was far more pragmatic, more amused by what laid underneath, rather than how pretty it’s shell was.

Clearly they got married, and eventually she did fall for all his quirks, or so I was told.

I was born as I currently am. My father being a superstitious and under educated fellow thought I was a curse and almost had all my little snakies cut off. My mother put up a huge fit, she adored my pythons. She thought they were "exotic" and played with them almost as much as she did me.

Small countries breed small minds, and apparently by the national height average here, small people as well; Monaco was one of the top funders of Human's against Mutants, with reported donations even coming from the Grimaldi's after a band of mutants tried to over throw them in 1994. So, I was a bit of a coveted secret of the family.

Sometimes I think, even if Monaco had been more mutant friendly, my dad still would have locked me up because I distorted the nuclear family of the playboy and mail order bride. I never really respected that narrow family model.

My father did lavish me with anything I wanted, and at one point even tried to spoil my babies. Least to say I would rather have bleeding haemorrhoids than ever experience my father trying to feed pythons that do not require their own substance. My mother just always laughed at him.

Comparatively, I just stared blankly at him until he bribed me with designer dolls and outfits.

My father built me my own wing of our mansion with a sealed outdoor portion. So I guess artificial outdoors was more accurate. Hey, wasn't all that bad. I could see my utter enjoyment in the two way mirror. There's nothing better than seeing the rain and never feeling it, right? I found friends closer than one would figure. My abilities were always potent and I would bemuse myself with them. My pythons became my closest friends at a really early age.

I guess because I never really had the chance to meet friends or even really need them, I became very content being on my own.

My mother was my hero growing up. I write this because I figure this trope is important in these types of high school essays. Not that I ever went to an actual high school, or school.

There was no need, my mother had a teaching degree and was my tutor up until the 2nd grade before the incident.

She taught me to embrace my differences and use them to better myself. She was invaluable for that, I do not think I would have survived with out her constant preaching of self love. “Variety was the spice of life”, and I am as rare and as luxurious as saffron.

My mother passed away in a car crash when I was seven years old. I was not allowed to attend the public funeral, instead my father held a small private ceremony in our home.

My mother’s death caused me to become incredibly depressed and angsty. Asides from all the other on-goings of my life, this was the one tragedy that actually impacted me. I could careless about the ignorance of my father and my country. I started to pick up embroidery to distract myself from the overwhelming sadness that captured me. Embroidery was a very popular hobbies in the Ukraine while my mother was a child and it made me feel closer to her, even post mortum.

I started to make quilts, pillows and things of those genre. My father would often pay me out of a sort of pity and allow me to spend my money as I pleased.

This lead to a drug problem. Cocaine was popular among my servants and I had money and spinal fluid to share. It eventually progressed to herion and all sorts of opiates. I never really cared about my own health, the amusement I felt seemed like a fair enough trade. I started buying pounds and then kilos, never fearing police since even my birth certificate wasn’t on government and police files.

I am quite hedonistic and impulsive, as my father’s euphemism would put it. I stopped when my father introduced me to a mutant who’s ability was to nullify the power’s of anothers. My pythons dropped into strands of golden hair and my face almost instantly sunk in.

I looked too much like my mother to look like such a drug addict. It summoned a storm of powerful emotions that shock the core of my being.

So, I stopped and it was a painful process but I grew from it. The extra money I had went towards expensive toiletries and expanding my wardrobe from baggy t-shirts and boxers to more extravagant things; Things my mother would of loved.

This mutant also revealed to me that my pythons contained a healing ability that kept me perpetually healthy. Which explained why I never had an overdose during my darker years.

Over this time my father married and remarried a couple times, to women I never really met. I had a couple of half siblings whom I occasionally entertained in my wing of the house.

I was never really close to any of them.

I got a physical and mental exam two years ago which revealed I had an antisocial personality disorder coupled with sever depression. Which I thought was an extreme exaggeration.

I am tired of being hidden, a bird in a golden cage is just as discontent as a bird in a wooden one. I hope to join PITY to escape my oppressive country and shameful family situation.



@DrugMother and @TheWizardLizard
Fantastic character sheets! You both wrote your sample posts very impressively, too. It just makes me want to read more and more, so I can't wait to see you posting in the IC once it's up and running.

Unfortunately, I'm not able to accept either sheet in their current form and will suggest that you both re-read the rules in the OP.


Ahhh I forgot to place in the weather. wink wink

I added that! oufff
Cordelia's sheet. May have messed up some of the formatting, I'm terrible with bbcode. The spelling mistakes/grammar errors are intentional, as is the needlessly caustic attitude.

PITY -Court-Mandated Application for Academic Year 2015/2016

Student Name:
Cordelia Lynn Holmes. Lynn.

Gender:
Female.

Nationality:
Nationality? Uh, white?

Age:
17

D.O.B.:
Dunno exactly. December 31st. 199..whenever makes me seventeen.


Appearance
[Please attach a photographic image of yourself for our records]




Hair Color:
Brown.

Eye Color:
Blue. Are we done with these dumbass questions yet?

Ethnicity:
White? What's the difference between this and nationality?

Height:
5'3. 5'2. Somewhere in there.

Weight:
100. Maybe a little less?


I helped you out with the image, and the basic details are suppose to be filled out like government form. Someone with a parol officer should defs know how to do that, ahah. Tyler@ mentioned this on the first page.

Just trying to help you out!
I am not a gm but idk

I hope Tyler and Shard do not mind me doing this!
Sample post written. I have finished everything! Criticism are much appreciated.

@Tyler @Shard

I just looked through the OOC, and you guys have done an absolutely fantastic job with it!

Kuudos x
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet