• Last Seen: 5 mos ago
  • Joined: 5 yrs ago
  • Posts: 3338 ( / day)
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Status

Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current Haven’t been here in a while and don’t plan to stay for long but wanted to say the atmosphere here in New Zealand is tense and, admittedly, a little scary. But we all plan to stand strong.
14 likes
2 yrs ago
I'm gonna be away to the islands for three days so I'll be back Tuesday NZT <3 Will try and get online but I'm pretty sure there's no signal
1 like
2 yrs ago
Got an 18 hour flight ahead of me today, wish me luck y'all :)
7 likes
2 yrs ago
Merry Christmas from NZ to RPG, have a fun one and hope you have prezzies <3
2 yrs ago
What sucks the most about having taken a hiatus is missing all the friends who've left :/
5 likes

Bio






*Under construction*
The Blue Men


It was an uncaring black sky, the callous night life illuminating the dim backstreets. The clubs were filled to the brim, shadows seen through translucent windows. A thin shape huddled next to the waste dump, taking comfort in the inky blackness of the sky. The hands of a ghoul extended from his body. Veins like vines winded down to his fingertips. They were unrecognisable, the pasty white skin failing to mask the brittle bone below. The young man curled into a ball, his youth taken away like a soul from a corpse. There was a chill in the air, like needles prickling the skin. His eyes was covered with crimson veins. They were empty with broken promises and lost hope, black circles against a red background. They panned from side to side, shaking and wide. Once a beautiful cerulean blue. Like an ocean, they had been deep and adventurous. Now, they had chilled to icicles and ready to snap.

He heard the deafening footsteps, loud sirens in the distance. Rats scurried across the ground and looked at him with familiarity. Dirty. Anxious. Outcast. He sniffed and sneezed, scratching the leather-like skin on his arms. More rats stopped. Brother. Comrade. He growled like a starved bear, a shadow of his former glory. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits and he grabbed a nearby rock. He roared but the sound that escaped was more like a petulant child. The rats hissed and snapped at him, scampering into the dark path beyond. The loneliness wrapped around him, hugging him close.

The wailing sirens drew closer and louder. He hugged his knees and rested his head on his arms, whispering incoherently. He prayed to whatever omnipotent, God-like being would come to his aid. The dumpster was his church and the feeble blanket his robes. The sirens were muted as he covered his ears, blocking the terrifying screech. He imagined a choir of beautiful voices instead, forgetting the horrifying implications of nearer sirens and blue men.

The sound of boots crushing gravel made his head swivel, the joint in his neck making a sickening crack sound. His hands parted, curled into fists before being shoved into his pockets. He lowered his head, bottom lip trembling as he shifted inch by inch away from the approaching interloper. The overwhelming presence halted in from of him, the marching steps gave way to silence. The scratches on his arms burned like hot fire, bruises on his chest thrummed in an agonising beat. His wrists felt the cold metal bindings, accusatory voices banged in his head. He took a deep inhale, trying to calm his quickening heartbeat and rid himself of dreadful memories.

A scent. Apple with a hint of oak. The vague sensation of cologne flashed in his mind before being wiped away. Instead, he clenched his fists tighter, trying to forget the blurred images of blue men and cold steel bars. Delinquent, the loud voices had called him. That was not his name.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rough but tender, friendly in its intent. He raised his head only slightly, to take a peek at this new man. He had a voice, this one not so loud, not so angry as the others. Soothing and calm like a father to his child. He spoke, communicating in words with each as familiar and indecipherable as the last. The voice reached a crescendo, an orchestra of increasing euphoria. He was gesturing with the showing of teeth and by curling lips. And suddenly, a climax.

“Charity” rang in the young man’s ear like church bells. A warm, clear container presented itself, an unknown smattering of food covered by brown gravy. His mouth salivated, grubby hands reached out of his pockets towards the warmth. The presence flashed teeth again, joyful hubbub of noises escaping their lips. Thin fingers wrapped themselves around the warm container and yanked, pulling it away and keeping it close to his chest. The man before him curled his lips again and he did the same. The wetness on his cheek gave way to a waterfall, indescribable waves of joy travelled through his body.

The tingling smile never left him until the police came to take him the next day. The blue men took him kicking and screaming against his arrest to no avail. The interloper returned the following morning to an empty alleyway. He sighed, whispering a quiet prayer for the poor homeless orphan, now behind cold steel bars.

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