[@GreenGoat] [hider=Hazel Baker - Aberration - Void Impact][color=fff79a][h3] β„• 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Hazel Baker[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝔸 π•˜ 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]18.[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] ℍ 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]168cm[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] π•Ž 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]50kg[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝔸 𝕑 𝕑 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 π•Ÿ 𝕔 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent][img]http://i.imgur.com/WueEziY.jpg[/img][/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] β„™ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕀 𝕠 π•Ÿ 𝕒 𝕝 π•š π•₯ π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]To others, she would seem polite if reserved, with never a harsh word, and manners immaculate. To those who knew her, they would find out she had no other emotions besides that. Her words were empty, her smile programmed and her manners automatic. A ghost living in an empty shell, she's constantly under a fog induced by drugs, to dampen her emotions and thus the frequency of her rampages. Her hair was styled to hide her eyes for this reason, for hers look lifeless, especially unnerving when she tried to put on any mask of emotion. The drug induced fog was not something forced upon her, but one she had taken voluntarily. She fears the clarity of her sharp mind, the memories of her burden, her shame. There was nothing she wouldn't do to forget her past, even for an instant.[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] ℍ π•š 𝕀 π•₯ 𝕠 𝕣 π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]She was captured at a young age by the government, delirious and almost feral, having destroyed a large amount of property though with only small injuries caused by her directly. Interested in her capabilities as a bunker buster, she was taken in by the government, to try and harness her ability. They found out early on that it was hard to contain someone who destroys material with ease, so they had Hephaestus, who was also in that same underground facility she was in, design her room to be resistant to her attacks. She didn't exactly see much beyond her room, and what little she saw made little sense in her head. They found out quickly she was exceptionally talented at destroying nonliving materials, but with the frequency of her rampages, she was hardly practical to use. However, after finding out she calmed down after every rampage, they have decided to make a sort of an obstacle course for her to run though, damping her need for violence. To further decrease her violent tendencies, she was put under some experimental drugs that induced a slight feeling of euphoria, though it clouded her mind so much the first time she remained motionless for the duration of the effect. They had perfected the drug to make it so she can still function regularly while under it, though it needed to be taken regularly, with which she was strangely cooperative. While she was now stable in a sense of the word, it was decided she was to be released at USARILN East, for further experimentation, focusing mostly on socialization and to see how stable she can remain in a relatively normal human setting with multiple external influences. Before releasing her however, she was collared with something Hephaestus made when she was asleep, one designed to tone down her violent tendencies by suppressing her emotions every time she felt the need to rampage. Unfortunately, it also weakened her abilities, though it also weakens her Stigma's call. The collar itself is highly visible, bearing Hephaestus' stag horn symbol upon it. [/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝕄 𝕒 π•˜ π•š 𝕔 : [b]Void Impact[/b] [/h3][/color] [indent]It is the ability to produce spatial displacement attacks in a range of 15m around her. While utilizing her abilities, her affected limbs turns transparent. Using this ability, she could punch an object in range and leave massive craters in the shape of her fists in it. For now, she could produce craters around 10x the size of her fists. Her limbs, while transparent, are incredibly easy to injure, with even a poke being able to produce a stab wound. However, if she tries to use this ability on the living, she won't displace any materials, but they would still take the full brunt of the heavy, wide-reaching impact from her attack. [/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 π•ž : [/h3][/color] [indent]A vast empty field, with but a single dirt path. The green grass seemed to grow as tall as her hips, but just in front of her a girl was dancing. It was Hazel, as much as she herself was Hazel, but she seems so free. Her smile was radiant as she took a step forward. But towards what? She was leaving, but what was she leaving? There was hope in those steps, there was despair, there was light, and the dark, but all was right. She took it all in, and she stepped forwards. She ran ahead of her, beckoning her, telling her its alright. But what was alright? What did she leave to be able to run so freely? But she could, and she could run on the path with her. She stopped in front of her, the real(?) her, and extended a hand, head tilted questioningly.[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] β„• π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ π•ž 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Behind her she spoke, Hazel, like she was Hazel. All three of them were Hazel, none real, but no one fake. The Hazel behind her spoke, though no words reached her. The path behind was gone, cut off abruptly by waving green grass. With a wave, the Hazel behind her cleared a wide swath of land, the grass abruptly turning into ash, leaving a wide area of empty dirt. There was no more path, but she could walk without fear. This Hazel however, did not run or dance, she simply walked, probably due to her limbs being encased in heavy armor. She could run, but she did not, instead taking it in and carrying it with her. But what did she carry?Why didn't she remove them to run? She carried them and became all the stronger for it. Stronger, but what did she carry that needed her to be stronger? Like the first, she too extended a hand, a small smile on her face.[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 π•œ 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•š π•Ÿ π•˜ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Aberration[/indent] [indent][color=fff79a] π•Š π•₯ π•š π•˜ π•ž 𝕒 : [/color][/indent] [indent][indent]That smile haunted her even in the deepest part of the drug induced fog. [i]Don't worry, I'll protect you.[/i] She had trusted her, and true to her words, she did try. But they weren't a match for him, not when they were still that small, that young. Hazel was picked out first, but she, true to her words, struggled and kicked so much, that she was instead the first. After he was done with her, he took a knife to her face, then took a brief rest. Before he regained enough energy to continue however, the police burst into the basement and shot him dead. True to her words, she had protected her, and she had blamed herself for it.[/indent][/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝔸 𝕣 π•ž 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•₯ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent]N/A[/indent] [indent]N/A[/indent] [color=fff79a][h3] 𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 π•ž 𝕖 π•Š 𝕠 π•Ÿ π•˜ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdKyJ1UGzEQ]It is calm, is it not?[/url][/indent] [indent][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT4sk2nACSU]...useless.[/url][/indent][/hider] Accepted. Nothing to change. YES. [url=http://pastebin.com/qmhWp4LY]Hazel's CS Code[/url] [hr] [@Lasrever] [hider=Zoe Fletcher - Aberration - Reassemble] [color=palevioletred][h3] β„• 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Zoe Fletcher[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝔸 π•˜ 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]18[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] ℍ 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]6'0"[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] π•Ž 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]150 lbs[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝔸 𝕑 𝕑 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 π•Ÿ 𝕔 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [center][img]https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRKVOOFNscCJPyCTImADAwnc1JzDMGjD1uUXzmvAswsmzScwDRC[/img][/center] [indent]Tall, lean and muscular, Zoe's appearance gives off what can only be described as a predatory vibe. She has the air and manner of someone used to fending to themselves, and an expression often firmly fixed into a confident smirk. There is an air of arrogance about her, not least because of the way she carries herself and her relaxed, lazy stride. She seems to have been in more than a few scraps, which is obvious if you take a closer look - small scars litter her body, and are especially visible on her knuckles. Her usual clothing is generally fairly muted and not designed to draw attention. For the observant, it's apparent that her arrogance isn't quite all that it seems. While she puts on an admirable front, rings under her eyes, ragged nails and the way her eyes dart around as though waiting for an attack all speak to the insecurity and self-loathing that she tries to hide. All in all, her appearance is that of someone confident on the surface, but to the exceptionally observant it may seem she's struggling to hold it together.[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] β„™ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕀 𝕠 π•Ÿ 𝕒 𝕝 π•š π•₯ π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Zoe is the kind of person that comes off as a born warrior or an arrogant ass, depending on who you ask. An adrenaline junkie of the highest degree, if there's a fight going on then she'll do her best to be involved - and if there isn't, she'll more than likely make someone angry enough to start one. Despite her aggressive tendencies, she doesn't actively try to start fights despite often being involved. It just happens that a lot of people want to wipe the smirk off of her face, and that she's very easy to make angry. She's not sadistic, or lacking empathy for others or anything like that, but definitely volatile and easily provoked - something which has gotten far worse since she gained the 'X' on her throat. Of course, like most people, she does have at least some redeeming qualities. For one, she's incredibly trustworthy, and will take a secret to the grave if she's trusted with it. She's also endlessly loyal, and looks out for people weaker than herself as best she can - a softer side which she endlessly denies. Beyond that, she's happy to put herself on the line to protect people who need it. Swift to become attached to anyone who sees past her attitude, it's almost strange how someone so starved of affection tries so hard to push other people away. She seems afraid of letting anyone get close in case she loses them, but being called out on this is a real sore spot for her, and there's no doubt that anyone doing so will find themselves on the receiving end of an attempted assault. While her harsh manner extends to friends as well as enemies, there is certainly a difference between the two. Towards people she dislikes, her remarks aim to be as cutting as possible, and she will make no secret of the fact that she hates someone's guts. Even if she thinks they're right, she'll be as pigheaded and obstinate as possible just to avoid agreeing with them. Towards her friends, it's something closer to playing devil's advocate for whatever plans or concerns they may have rather than outright malice. Generally, her hatred is reserved for people who allow their power to consume them, or who harm indiscriminately without regret, an urge at least partially seeded in self-loathing and how she struggles against the effects of her own stigma. One thing that she hates is when people she trusts lie or manipulate her, especially if it's 'for her own good'. As far as she's concerned, anything that's for her own good is something she can be told about. When she's particularly angry or upset, she has a habit of going incredibly quiet for a while before reacting, although her reactions will remain characteristically volatile. She has difficulty mustering the strength to keep control and master the urges brought on by her stigma, and it's a struggle she fails more often than not.[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] ℍ π•š 𝕀 π•₯ 𝕠 𝕣 π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Zoe rushed into the hospital, a look in her eyes like a cornered animal. In her arms, there was a small body bundled in cloth, unmoving. Desperation filled her voice as she stood in the waiting room, the cross on her throat clear to see. [color=palevioletred]"Help! Please, you have to-"[/color] her voice broke, taking on a horrified note. [color=palevioletred]"I couldn't stop myself."[/color] After the bundle was taken from her, she knew what would happen if she stayed. Knew there was no way life would be the same. But despite that, her feet refused to move - and it wasn't long before they came to pick her up. She didn't resist, and soon enough found herself at USARILN East.[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝕄 𝕒 π•˜ π•š 𝕔 : [/h3][/color] [indent][color=palevioletred][center][i]Reassemble[/i][/center][/color] Allows her to decompose organic material after touching someone. The ability requires contact with a person to become active, but once she's made initial contact it works within a 10 meter radius of her. The ability's effects can be sped up if she focuses them into one area, roughly the size of her hand. Initially all that her targets feel would be an unusual itch, but if they allow it to progress it will eventually become incredibly painful. Currently her ability is quite slow, acting at roughly the same rate as a severe case of necrotising fasciitis on full-body with targeted attacks somewhat faster, and she is limited to only affecting things she can see. The ability's use is indicated by black veins appearing on whatever she made contact with, and wisp-like flecks of black dust appearing around her.[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 π•ž : [/h3][/color] [indent]The sun shines down on her face, standing in the middle of a remote village. Around her, ramshackle huts give way to homes of her own making, comfortable and safe. In the background, she can hear people laughing and imagine the smiles on their faces. They don't need to want for anything, to wish for anything, because she's created for them everything they need. It's a paradise, but not one for her. She moves on, her job completed and another utopia created. Wherever she goes, she is celebrated for her actions, praised and loved. She's worth something, to so many people, but as she looks out upon the village as they celebrate without even noticing her departure, there's one thing that remains clear to her - she is completely alone.[/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] β„• π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ π•ž 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent][color=f7976a][i]"You can protect them."[/i][/color] A whimper echoes through the narrow street. Wordless desperation, from a man who long since lost the ability to beg for mercy. She's never seen his face before, but she despises him - despises his kind, who act from nothing but selfishness and greed. Justice, for all that ever wronged her, all who ever sought to do no more than hurt. As she grips his face in her hands, she smiles, and moments later not an inch of flesh remains on his skull. The sight is, in a word, horrifying. Letting go, behind him she sees the face of a child a few years younger than she is, smiling brightly and seemingly unaware of the bloodshed surrounding them. [color=f7976a]"Is he gone?"[/color] [color=palevioletred]"I got rid of him."[/color] As Zoe speaks, her eyes scan the ground behind them - a graveyard of mutilated, unburied corpses. Despite this, she speaks with grim certainty, a cold satisfaction. She has the power to ensure a perfect life, for her and the ones she cares about, to destroy anybody who would harm them. To ensure the happiness of everyone that matters. [color=palevioletred]"No one will ever hurt you again."[/color][/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 π•œ 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•š π•Ÿ π•˜ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Aberration[/indent] [indent][color=palevioletred] π•Š π•₯ π•š π•˜ π•ž 𝕒 : [/color][/indent] [indent][indent]Zoe's stigma manifests itself in what is essentially a feeling of bloodlust, an urge to hurt and harm other people. An intense compulsion telling her that giving in would make her happy constantly demands she give in. The more she cares about someone, the more it makes her want to hurt them - and whenever she gives in to the compulsion, the memory replays again and again, accompanied by a rush of joy.[/indent][/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝔸 𝕣 π•ž 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•₯ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent]xxx[/indent] [indent][/indent] [color=palevioletred][h3] 𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 π•ž 𝕖 π•Š 𝕠 π•Ÿ π•˜ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent]To be found when I get to an actual computer.[/indent][/hider] Accepted. Took the image out of the hider and moved one indent around. Feel free to add theme songs at your leisure. [url=http://pastebin.com/srvt9c7G]Zoe's CS Code[/url] [hr] [@Apokalipse] [hider=Lincoln Fucking Gilmore - Aberration - Opinokinesis][center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjEyOC41NTcyZjcuVEdsdVkyOXNiaUJIYVd4dGIzSmwuMA,,/ranyeski.regular.png[/img] [img]http://p2.i.ntere.st/48c2e4afb291a213c62c5017e3067765_480.jpg[/img][/center] [color=#4186A9][h3] β„• 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Lincoln Gilmore.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝔸 π•˜ 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Eighteen.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] ℍ 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]6'3 ft.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] π•Ž 𝕖 π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ : [/h3][/color] [indent]183 lbs.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝔸 𝕑 𝕑 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 π•Ÿ 𝕔 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]Lincoln is a rather big guy – he stands at six feet and three inches and is made of muscle. Lincoln’s body is slim rather than bulky and his facial features are sharp like a fox’s. His black hair has a blue sheen to it and is almost always unruly, which is only worsened by Lincoln’s habit of ruffling it in times of stress – which is always. Lincoln’s eyes are described as being piercing and are a dull black that seem uninterested in everything around him, and when he looks at someone, they look as if they are bored with that person’s mere existence. An ever-present lopsided smirk sits on Lincoln’s face and no one has seen an actual genuine smile on him for years. On the base of his throat, the black X stands stark against his cold peach skin and there are always fresh red scratches bordering the X as if Lincoln clawed his throat with his bare, short nails. Lincoln is usually seen wearing dark ripped jeans and black or blue guinea tees. Sometimes he wears a dark gray hoodie with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. If he can get away with it, Lincoln will go shirtless because [s]he likes to show off those sick muscles[/s] he likes to feel the air on his skin. [/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] β„™ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕀 𝕠 π•Ÿ 𝕒 𝕝 π•š π•₯ π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Lincoln is not a good guy – and you’d be a fool to think he is. Lincoln is a selfish boy who will do whatever he needs to in order to get what he wants – his ambitious personality has left a path of destruction wherever he goes. He [i]will[/i] hurt his friends if it means he will fulfill his goals. When it comes to loyalty, it would be best not to count on him – he’s more likely to throw you under a bus than pull you out of harm. Furthermore, he is violent and volatile; he’s quick to lose his temper and his favorite coping mechanism is destruction. When not angry, or going after a goal, Lincoln is a snarky little shit who breathes sarcasm and smells of arrogance. His cockiness has a tendency to piss other people off – [s]though, of course, there are the couple of people who have found themselves making out with him in the back of a car because they just [i]loved his smug, self-assured ass too damn much[/i][/s]. The most dangerous thing about Lincoln, however, is not his personality itself, but his lack of willpower in fighting the stigmas. While he fights it off when he needs to, Lincoln prefers to let himself succumb to the thoughts rather than reject it – he almost seems to revel in it sometimes, particularly in the destruction he casts when it becomes too much. And it becomes too much for him rather quickly. Of course, Lincoln hides this instability of his as much as he can, because he can’t have that pesky director getting rid of him before he’s gotten what he wants. Of course, Lincoln isn’t a hundred percent bad. He does have his good points – though they aren’t as obvious as his bad ones. For instance, Lincoln is all about that empowerment life and fighting against The Man. A rebel without a cause Lincoln is not, because he constantly fights for what he thinks if right – even if [i]he[/i] is the opposite of β€œthe good of the world.” Feminism? He’s totally there for it. Gay marriage? You bet your ass he’s been to a rally. Subnatural rights? Signed every petition there is. He also has a soft spot for animals – not so much babies, as people might assume out of the kindness of their hearts, he’s actually quite bad with kids and makes them cry most of the time. And, as much as people would like to write him off as a total meathead, Lincoln is incredibly intelligent and has quite the strategic mind – he’s great at coming up with longterm schemes and is patient enough to slowly work towards what he wants through the years. But his ultimate weakness is that he thinks with his heart more than with his brain. [/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] ℍ π•š 𝕀 π•₯ 𝕠 𝕣 π•ͺ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Lincoln doesn’t like to talk about his past – not for some broody reason, but it’s just annoying having to explain that, sometimes, things [i]are[/i] that simple [s]but if we’re being honest here, they aren’t – he’s just buried in his own goddamn denial[/s]. His dad was this wimpy accountant who was born a nerd, lived as a nerd, and will probably die as one cowering in the fucking corner – at least, that’s what Lincoln thinks. His mom, though? His mom was a force to be reckoned with – a fucking hurricane that swirled into the room and jacked everyone up. Lincoln knows this – he has the scars to prove it. Funnily enough, it was when she was drunk that she was the most complacent. If it’s not obvious enough, Lincoln and mommy dearest didn’t get along in the least. So, when she found the x on his throat ([s]fuck that dreamcatcher asshole for deciding to put it in the most obvious place ever, amirite?[/s]) underneath the red scarf he used to hide it, Lincoln was quick to hightail it out of town. Didn’t even bother to say goodbye, not that he wanted to say goodbye to anyone, β€˜cause screw that forsaken place. Considering where he is now, it’s obvious he wasn’t able to escape the dumbass government, but he put up as big of a fight as he could. Not enough to kill anybody, god no that’s too much work, but enough to cause a couple thousand in property damages [s]that Lincoln is praying he won’t have to pay off[/s]. In the end, they had to drag him by the damn hair to USARILN East. [/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝕄 𝕒 π•˜ π•š 𝕔 : [/h3][/color][center][h3][color=daeef8]O[/color] [color=daeef8]p[/color] [color=b5e6f4]i[/color] [color=b5e6f4]n[/color] [color=83d8ed]o[/color] [color=83d8ed]k[/color] [color=55cbe7]i[/color] [color=55cbe7]n[/color] [color=4bb5de]e[/color] [color=4bb5de]s[/color] [color=37addb]i[/color] [color=37addb]s[/color][/h3][/center] [indent]Lincoln is able to control one of the five senses of his target at a time. He can manipulate them to taste, smell, touch, hear, or see something they’ve experienced before – but he can’t read their minds. For example, he can try to make them taste something putrid, like ear wax, and if there is no reaction, then they probably have never tasted earwax. Lincoln usually uses this ability to make his targets feel pain, though he can only make them feel a pain they have felt before. Lincoln’s visual telegraph is a red thread that is tied around his pinkie and trails to his target, the end of the thread is tied to his target’s pinkie.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 π•ž : [/h3][/color] [indent]It’s beautiful and the edges are smoked white, like he’s in a movie dream sequence – how fitting. It smells strongly of eucalyptus and something soft, like roses or cherry blossoms, and the scenery is bursting with color everywhere he looks. Vibrant green grass, and vivid rainbow flowers flourishing in bushes. Lincoln is sitting underneath a tree, with someone sitting next to them – they aren’t real, this is a fact that Lincoln can feel so intensely in his gut. They have a cut on their cheek and Lincoln brushes their soft hair from their face, swabbing the cut gently clean. He doesn’t know where the real person is, doesn’t matter, because he knows he’s helping them. Lincoln smiles softly, but he can’t help feeling bizarrely out of place in this beautiful garden.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] β„• π•š π•˜ 𝕙 π•₯ π•ž 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 : [/h3][/color] [indent]White. [i]White. [b]White.[/b][/i] The room lacks the vivid color that his dream held, but instead he is in a bare white room with only a metal door and a table that he sits at. No matter how much he wants to move, Lincoln can’t move – this is where he was supposed to be. Here. The room is pristine and smells sharply of antiseptic and old people – he hates it. The white is so stark against his eyes that, for a moment, Lincoln fears that he lost his ability to see and is actually [i]blind[/i]. A red string is tied around his pinkie and slopes across the table and unto the floor, trailing against the white tile under the metallic door. The edges of his senses feel flayed, unfettered, as if he’s barely being held together by scotch tape and willpower. Lincoln itches. The itch gets hotter and fiercer until it’s burning and scorching and [i]it hurts so much but it feels so fulfilling[/i]. And then copper is stinging his nose and red is smeared across the walls. So much red and so much copper. And so. Much. Pain.[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 π•œ 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•š π•Ÿ π•˜ : [/h3][/color] [indent]Aberration. Aberration. Aberration.[/indent] [indent][color=#4186A9] π•Š π•₯ π•š π•˜ π•ž 𝕒 : [/color][/indent] [indent][indent]Everywhere he fucking looks, Lincoln sees her: his mom. Sometimes, Lincoln swears he can even feel her hand, hot and stinging, against his face. It’s mostly the things she says in his head, though, that drives him crazy – [s][i] β€œYou’re not my son, you’re not my son, you came from me but you are [b]not[/b] mine.” // β€œHow can my son be such a little bitch? You’re so much like your father, it’s disgusting. What? Are you going to fucking cry, you little bitch?” // β€œHow can someone love a worthless little shit like you?” [/i][/s]. In the night, Lincoln wakes up and can feel her fingers digging into his back and arms and legs, nails scraping against his skin and shaking him. She. Just. Won’t. Stop. Shaking. Him. Lincoln likes to blast her out with hard metal. He doesn’t really like metal, Lincoln always preferred soft music, but he can hear her over soft music. He blasts metal until his ears bleed. And then he breaks things. [/indent][/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝔸 𝕣 π•ž 𝕒 π•ž 𝕖 π•Ÿ π•₯ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent]xxx[/indent] [color=#4186A9][h3] 𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 π•ž 𝕖 π•Š 𝕠 π•Ÿ π•˜ 𝕀 : [/h3][/color] [indent][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovvePzbSLrQ]Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) - Eurythmics.[/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ut52Szpd-w]Where is My Mind - The Pixies.[/url][/indent][/hider] Accepted. Nothing to change. YESSSSS, but for uniformity. [url=http://pastebin.com/e6JLLZPU]Lincoln's CS Code[/url] [hr] Will head out for a few hours. I have banjo slaving away at filling out the NPC sheets that I haven't gotten to. Will have those up sometime after I get back today.