Hey Im Jordan

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I need to go home and write more apparently

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Location: His house > school
Interacting with: Himself, his mother, two unsuspecting emos ( @Silent Observer, @foxygen
Time: 7:40 AM to 9:09 AM

Sleeping was easy for Davy. He didn’t have to face anyone, didn’t have to speak with anyone, didn’t have any expectations, no due dates, nothing. Peace and quiet. Peace of mind, y’know? The time he spent asleep was his... Favorite time, more or less--eating was a close second(but who didn’t like eating?)--but, ultimately, sleeping took the cake. Now, waking up? That was a different story entirely. That was a challenge; dragging himself up and out of bed was a struggle, and motivation to go to school was scarce, at best. It was his first day though! So, when his phone kicked on, firing up the surround sound in his basement and not so politely blasting him with music, Davy’s eyes opened as he was dragged from his beloved rest and to reality.

There was worst stuff to wake up to, Davy thought. The night before, he’d smartly chosen a smooth, easy song to play in from his speakers and rouse him from rest. He stretched out on the beanbag he’d fallen asleep on and kicked his phone on, checking the time. Time to go school. Silently, he wished it was a Wednesday, his therapy day. At least then he’d get a doctor’s note, would miss half the day, and could squeeze the tardy slip all the way through till lunch time.

But, unfortunately for him, it was a blasted Monday. That meant school. Straight there, hopefully straight back without any instances involving people. He groaned and clicked the music down as he stood up, running a hand through his uneven, messy black hair as he looked around the room. He walked over to the corkboard containing his drawings from the night before and stared at them for a few seconds before he decided their fate: he stuffed them into the side pocket of his backpack, which he threw over his shoulder. He headed over to his pets, Sprinkles the duck and Frosting the turtle, looking down into their shared cage. ”Alright, boys. Daddy’s gotta go to work. Kinda. School, really, but honestly, it’s the same thing… Anyway. Here’s the deal. Ya gotta take care of yourselves for the day. I think you can handle it, but just in case I’m gonna leave this here.” He explained, grabbing the microphone half of a baby monitor and sticking it close to the cage. Then, Davy reached down and picked up his quacking duck--who didn’t complain, this is what he was here for, anyway--and gently placed him on the shell of Frosting. ”Alright, guys. This right here is your power stance. From this stance, you own the universe. No one can stop you, no one can touch you,” David grinned and clicked the monitor on before he continued to speak, ”Mom can hear you now. So she’ll come to help if you quack properly. Don’t worry, she knows the system.” Davy smiled and gave his friends a wave as he turned to leave the basement.

Basement wasn’t exactly the proper term, Davy didn’t think. There was a reason he referred to it as his ‘secret’ spot: if no one in his family told someone about it, they simply wouldn’t know it existed. The original owners of Davy’s home had been… paranoid, to say the least. Paranoid enough to install a 50 x 50 x 15 bombshelter 50 feet underground approximately 120 feet to the left of their actual home. Originally accessible through a hatch in the pantry, which lead to a tunnel, Davy’s parents had moved the entryway to the tunnel to the left of the pantry, hidden away to look like the normal wall of building with an electric door that slid into the rear wall of the pantry when activated. After that(and this step in particular had taken some work), but a computer system(powered by a Raspberry Pi, of course) had been set up to open the door only to Davy’s voice… Or, the remote if you had it. But only his mother had it, and that, Davy thought was understandable.

Heading up the stairs toward the real world now, Davy sighed and hit the button, causing the door to slide open and slipped outside. Still holding the receiving end of the baby monitor now, David headed towards his actual bedroom, where he selected his clothes for the day, and grabbed his skateboard off of the bed. He looked down at the baby monitor and heard the forlorn quacking from his duck and he yearned to return to his secret spot and cuddle Sprinkles until he smiled, but alas. School called.

David hopped in the shower, and in ten seconds flat was showered, teeth brushed, hair… well, his hair was there, clean clothes on, and headed out the door with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He stopped in the kitchen, tapping his mother on the shoulder and smiling as she turned to look at him. ”Hey, mom. Here’s the monitor. Remember, one quack means they want to go outside. Two quacks means fresh water. Three quacks means they’re hungry. Please take care of my pets!” Illyana, David’s mother, was struck by the sight of her son smiling, especially on a school day.

As she thrust his lunch into his hands(which Davy quickly crammed into his pack), she spoke excitedly: ”David! You’re smiling. Happy! You look happy! For school!” In response, Davy’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head rapidly as he kissed his mother on the cheek and spun on his heel, headed toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, David responded:

”I’m not happy I was just with my duck and tortle. They make me happy. As we both well know,” Davy’s eyes twinkled now as he turned the knob and opened the door. ”I’m horribly depressed.” As he headed out the door, his mother let out a long sigh.

”You be careful on that skateboard. I don’t wanna have to come peel you off of the asphalt today…”

Davy smiled again, that same wide, charming smile that only saw the light of day when he wasn’t scared for his life, surrounded by people he didn’t like, before he spoke: ”Mama... when am I ever not safe?” With that, he slammed the board down onto the ground and headed toward the school.

Contrary to all his implied bravado in the final statement to his mother, and despite his undeniable skills… David was indeed safe. And as he rolled up to the school, Davy slid headphones into his ears, deciding it best that he not have to hear anyone--lest he talk to them. Now blocked off from the world, Davy smiled as he listened to the music in his ears, nodding along to the beat. Strategically abusing his knowledge of the various locations of janitor’s closets in Beverly Hills High, Davy managed to masterfully avoid the assembly--and smoke half a bowl too. Now, he could handle people.

With the artificial confidence provided by the THC now in his system, Davy decided he would skate on the bleachers--no, down them. Starting from the top(which took way longer and more effort to walk to than he’d anticipated), David popped the skateboard up on two wheels and moved across the thin seat of wood and down them. WIth a thump, he hit the second one. The music in his ears began to increase in pace and Davy could feel himself get thrown slightly off balance by the heavy backpack he wore.

Oh well, he thought as he hit the third one.

Nearing the bottom now, Davy realized that he had no idea how he was going to stop. Oops, that was the weed. Seriously.

None of the above, cut the cord!

Davy groaned as he saw his unfortunate targets, now closer than they needed to be. Welp, here we go.

Lights out!

David smashed into the young man and his companion, causing his drawing to scatter all over the field. Eyes wide now, and panic setting in, Davy quickly began to speak: ”Sorry! I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching, I swear I”m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I’m sorry! ...Oh! It’s Jar! Hey man.” Halfway through, Davy realized who he’d bumped into, and his fear and panic was replaced with relief and more or less genuine joy at seeing his friend--and his other friend! Two friends! That was almost all of them! Exciting! ”See, man, I thougth I’d have to talk to someone… Hey, don’t!” He said quickly, but it was too late. Jar had already began to help him pick up the scattered drawings--and, as luck would have it, he’d picked up the one of himself.

Davy reached out to the sky and grapsed at it.

So close.

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fine i'll start writing a ghostpost *long siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh*

@Wade Wilson

His little conversation with Alyssa will be included in her post once I finish it. it's taking forever because she's a wacky girl and there's lots to write and i may or may not be having more fun writing davy's bit

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@HushedWhisperswhat's the rule on posting can i go again or should i wait for a full rotation or something

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I'm guessing the music club is the choir/orchestra? Or no?

@sakurasan

Yeah, I'd assume so

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@DesparadinaI finally got around to responding to your PM, by the way.

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there

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Location: His gym
Interacting with: Himself, of course, he’s a brooding monstrosity, didn’t you know?
Time: 1:50 A.M. - 2:07 A.M.

When had he arrived at the gym? He didn’t even know. It was strange to think it was his now, that it didn’t belong to the old man. It, along with so many other things, had been left to Troy in his passing, as if the old man didn't have a family. Knowing that it was what the old man would have wanted, Troy trained as hard as ever, perhaps even hard. But now, today, his skills seemed to be escaping him. It was frustrating, enraging even, and in his rage Troy knew that he was only floundering harder. He turned to walk away from the punching bag and leave, to give up, but he stopped himself and spun on his heel, launching into a flurry of jabs and kicks against the bag, shouting as he did so.

It was getting late, almost two AM in the morning, but Troy wasn’t finished training. And he wouldn’t be, until he did it right. He swung a left hook, then a right hook, and ended it with a kick against the training bag, driving his foot into it. Still, the bag didn’t move. Internally, Troy screamed. Externally, he ran through it again. And again, the bag didn’t move. He shook himself, but suddenly he could hear a voice he hadn’t heard in months; the old man’s.

“You have to breathe, boy!”

Troy snarled, shaking his head. Dead. The old man was dead, and he was still here to spit his ‘infinite wisdom.’ “I am breathing! Are you watching or what, you old motherfucker!?” He barked, glancing over his shoulder to face the man, though he felt a sharp pang in his chest when he realized that he was just hearing things. The old man wasn’t there, but Troy could clearly remember the first time he’d learned this.

He shut his eyes and let himself imagine the old man in front of him. Perfectly, he could hear the voice in his ears, as if the old man was standing right behind him. “You breathe out with each strike. Inhale, exhale strike. Inhale, exhale strike. With three hits, and your strength, the bag should swing, and swing hard.” Troy opened his eyes and imagined the old man standing next to him, not the weak, dying man he’d been a few months ago, but years ago. When they’d first met, when the old man might as well have been Superman in Troy’s eyes.

“I’ll show you, Troy. Are you ready?” Almost excitedly, Troy nodded rapidly and the old man smiled. “Inhale,” he said and Troy parroted his movements, breathing in deeply and pulling his arm back. “Exhale.” Simultaneously with the man in his mind, Troy let out the breath and fired off the punch.

This time, the bag swung. Smiling slightly now, Troy took the next blow by himself. Inhale. Exhale. The blow hit the bag and it swung again. Troy smiled, he knew how proud the old man would be with this showing. One last time. Troy took in a huge breath this time, and launched off the kick at the bag. He struck true this time--yet the bag didn’t move. Instead, the old fabric tore from the strength of his blow and the sand began to spill out. With a huge smile on his lips, Troy turned to look at the old man. “Did you see it?” He asked, but the man was gone. Troy’s fists clenched tightly and he could feel the tears coming. Crying again, what was wrong with him?

The old man would never see it again. He’d never really be there. Troy blinked away a few of the tears and did his best to steady himself as the sand piled at his feet. He tightened his fists even further, and he could feel the tape around his palms rip and his fingernails dig into his skin.

He gave up.

The tears fell freely into the pile of sand and Troy turned himself away from the bag, as he let out a pathetic sobbing noise. ’He was never there,’ Troy bitterly reminded himself. ’I was hearing things. Imagining things, like a child. He’ll never be back. He’s gone.’ He had to accept it, even if it hurt more than anything else. Troy hadn’t know what it felt like to lose someone, but now that he did, he was terrified of facing it again. He let his fists uncurl, and he wiped at his eyes as he walked toward the door, fresh blood from where his fingernails had dug stained the white tape he’d carefully wrapped around his hands.

He had school in the morning, but what was even the point? No one cared about what he did; and now that the old man was gone, Troy wondered if he even cared. Deep down, he knew he was only doing it because it was what the old man wanted, but what was the point?!

He didn’t know anymore.

---

Location: His basement
Interacting with: Himsefl
Time: 1:57 AM to 2:09 AM

Should he be in his bed, sleeping and resting while he mentally prepared for the day after? Probably. After all, it was the beginning of school, possibly his single most disliked time of year, for a variety of reasons… and, for the most part, the reasons were tacked onto his corkboard wall by this point; he’d been working on them for ages now, ever since he’d woken up and it sort of dawned on him that school was coming up.

David had spent the entire evening drawing pictures of his classmates, stylizing them in a comic-book esque fashion. Mostly, he drew people he’d interacted with--or largely feared interacting with: as he was finishing it up now, it amounted to Troy(drawn slightly in the style of one of Davy’s favorite comic book characters, the Punisher), Jareth(who Davy drew with a particularly excessive use of black, even going so far as to give him a skull mask--Jar would have liked it, Davy thought), the gruesome twosome(the ferocious duo of Eve and Audrey--drawn as demon girls, complete with--admittedly fan-service-y--devil tails, whips, and ears), and, finally, the dynamic duo of Tyler and Josh(stylized vaguely as the wonder twins, with neither one looking like they enjoyed being super heroes, and speech bubbles extending from both of them containing ‘...’). These were the people Davy was excited to see regularly, and the people Davy really didn’t want to interact with. The only notable ones missing were Aurora and Alyssa, both of whom Davy had just been unable to decide on how to stylize.

He took a few of his thumbtacks out of the container and lifted the final drawing, the wonder twins, up toward the corkboard and pinned it up, then stared at his handiwork as he looked down at his watch. ”...it’s late.” He stared at the drawings for a few seconds, then glanced back down at his watch. Sleep was necessary, he figured, but he didn’t really feel like it. Already dressed in his pajamas--don’t tell anyone, but Davy simply hadn’t changed out of his pajamas from the night before--the young man stood up to his feet and moved over to one of the beanbags in his basement bedroom, flopping down on it. ”Maybe I’ll sleep in and be late.”

He yawned and rubbed his eyes, reaching down to the floor to grab a discarded blanket and pillow from the night before. At least, he thought to himself, it was his last year. Maybe… there was something beautiful in store for him. After that thought crossed his mind, even the mild-mannered Davy blew air out of his nose in minor amusement. With the people he went to school with? The only thing beautiful likely to come from Beverly Hills High was beautiful oblivion.

David clapped his hands together, and the lights in the room shut off. He fiddled with the remote to the bluetooth surround sound in his room, turning it on, but kept the volume low as he dug around in his phone’s files to select a song to rest to. Once satisfied, David rolled to tighten the blankets around himself and closed his eyes. Sleep would come in time, he was certain.

---

Location: His bedroom
Interacting with: His younger sister
Time: 1:58 AM to 2:06 AM

He had to be dreaming, right? That was the only way this would be happening. Aw, hell, dreams were to be enjoyed anyway.

”I’m here with #18, Connor, of the Dallas Cowboys, who just beat the New Englad Patriots. How does it feel to win the Superbowl, get the Superbowl MVP, and break the record for most passing yards scored in a season, and get the winning touchdown of the Superbowl, all in one night?” Mean Gene Okerlund excitedly asked Connor as he held his trophy high above his head, to the fans that were screaming his name as he stood victorious in… Madison Square Garden?

Yep, definitely dreaming.

”Well, the first thing I want to be done is to get that piece of ball deflating crap Tom Brady out of my arena! Actually, don’t just get him out of the arena, get him out of the NFL, because I just proved son, without a shadow of a doubt that you ain’t got what it takes anymore!”

The crowd started to chant his name even louder, more rhythmically… no, wait, frantically, like it was something important? Blatantly, Connor ignored them. ”My first order of business is to serve some notice, and I’m servin’ notice to the everyone in the National Football League, I don’t give a damn who it is, they’re all on the list and that’s Connor’s list and I’m fixin’ to start runnin’ through all of em!” Excellent Stone Cold impression Connor, well done. The man himself would be proud.

Connor then turned his attention to the cheerleaders near the sidelines, ”Now, I’d like to thank those pretty girls of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleadin’ squad for helping me through my rookie year, if y’know w-”

Connor was suddenly physically shaken to consciousness, the form of his younger sister, Olivia, shrouded in the darkness of his room in front of him. Connor yawned and switched on the bedside lamp as he sat up. Damn, the dream was just getting good too… He smiled down at Olivia in the low light of the lamp, before he spoke tiredly. ”What’s up, bubbles?” The Powerpuff Girls was far and away Olivia’s favorite television show, and Connor called her by the names of the titular characters at different times. Bubbles was just his personal favorite.

”There’s a monster under my bed! I had a nightmare! I think he’s gonna e-e-e-e-eat me!” She blubbered out and Connor was suddenly very aware that his baby sister was, in fact, sobbing. Geeze, it seemed not everyone in the O’Connor household was having glorious dreams with cheerleaders and Superbowl wins and MSG appearances. Connor reached out and patted the girl on the head.

”Well you tell that monster, that if he messes with you, I’m comin’ for him. I’ll be locked, loaded, and huntin’ his ass down. And you can tell him just like that because I’m the boss and I gave you permission to cuss him out. Ain’t no monsters scaring my little sister.” He poked her nose and, bashfully, Olivia gave a small smile, but she was still scared. Connor scooted over on the bed and lifted her up beside him. ”Are you excited for school tomorrow?” In response, Olivia stared at her brother as if he’d lost his mind.

”Uhm, no! It’s school, Connor. No one likes school. I don’t like school… I like birds, and Netflix, and Saturday morning cartoons, and… puppies. And that’s it, honest. Nothing else.” She replied and Connor rolled his eyes again, smiling. Of course she wasn’t excited. She was seven. Seven year olds were on a whole nother level. ”Plus, school means you’ll have practices and stuff, so you won’t be here! How am I supposed to be safe from angry monsters without you here to protect me!? What a terrible big brothhhhhhhhhhhherrrrrrrrrr.” She complained with a huge yawn and Connor thought for a moment.

”Well, I’ll get a doge. A puppy. The sergeant of the house, someone to protect you while I’m gone, and me when I’m around. You know, someone to guard the guardians,” as Connor spoke, both siblings laid down in the bed and Connor threw the blankets over them. No way Olivia was gonna sleep alone after the monster thing. They snuggled together as Connor started talking again, ”It’ll be cool. I’ll go first thing after school tomorrow. Maybe I can even find one that’s already house trained… What do you think, bubbles?”

Connor’s question was met with quiet breathing and sleepy noises from his sister, who, no longer scared and feeling much more safe in her older brother’s embrace, had already fallen asleep. Connor shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes, deciding that he’d just return to his Super Bowl victory. Now with added puppies to taste.

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im here i aint likin no statuses

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@HushedWhispersso i basically have my post written, it's just introducing everyone like at 2AM the morning before school. can i go ahead and post it up?

I'm gonna write them actually physically going to the school on my next rotation.