Post by ace on Jan 18, 2010 18:25:49 GMT -5
KATYA EMILIE ROGERS.
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* FEELS JUST LIKE WE'RE LOSING CONTROL.
and if you let go, then i'll let go tonight.[/center]
TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF.
"i could pretend to be all sweet and shy right here but fuck it, i don’t mind talking about myself to a total stranger. let’s be honest here, i’m probably a tad more thrilling than your lovely self. my name’s katya but feel free to go wild and call me kat, I don’t really give a hoot. despite my rents trying to connect with their russian roots where my birth name is concerned, a last name like rogers kinda fucks up the whole foreign feel. i’m sixteen although I’m far more socially mature than others my age, i can drink and fuck with the best of them so the way i figure it, i’m older…in some sort of less technical way. maybe i skipped a few birthdays down the line somewhere considering i spent half of them passed out after just reaching my front door. unlocking a door after hours of drinking is a far too difficult task to ask of me. i’m female, always have been always will be. my sexuality is under question but let’s just go for the ‘anything that moves’ category, though i’m not too keen on them four legged furry folk i gotta admit. i failed at school be cause i was too pretty… and too drunk. for someone with an oversized personality i’m five foot and a smudge but that’s where the miracle of heels come to play, i can be average height if i put myself in danger of breaking my neck. i tend to go for that sort of unwashed, i don’t care look although just like that ke$ha dude only i am washed and i do kind of care. my hair’s blonde, well, bottle blonde although admittedly i could to with touching up my roots. that’s probably where the ‘unwashed’ vibe comes from. fuck it. my fantastic physique is maintained through more drinking than eating for all you folk out there trying to drop a few pounds, the liquid diet is one i would highly recoment and it makes people a whole lot more entertaining. my wardrobe is…unique and just a mass of utter shit to most but the entrance to narnia in my eyes, a narnia filled with sequins and booze stained whites that can no longer withstand my habits. "
TELL US ABOUT YOUR MEDICAL HISTORY.
[/size][/font]"i broke my elbow once from tripping over some passed out whore at a party, maybe i didn’t break it…but it hurt like buggery! any other little issues i have i don’ really consider to be problems. my drinking is just the drinking of someone social, highly social in fact, probably more social than natural. sure, i go through withdrawals when i don’t get what i want but it’s all groo-vay once i’ve got my booze back. i don’t see why i couldn’t just do a stint in rehab like all them cool rockstars and pulling off these days. my rents tried that initially, bless their warped little heads. it lasted a little over a week but getting a bunch of alcoholics pissed arseholes apparently wasn’t appropriate behaviour. they had more fun than they’d had in months! slipping passed the gates and getting to an off licence was just for too easy though, these things should at least be a challenge, maybe a nut house will provide such opportunities. my behaviour when drunk is highly inappropriate, or at least i’m told. io be honest i hardly ever remember much of it, big old patches of black and then you come to in a mass of naked orgy. those are the good nights, usually i just end up trying to tear someone’s face off or gouge out their eyes. if they were more vigilant thought they wouldn’t have been caught by my wrath! i must have good reason to do this shit, there are some right stupid people about and I just figure it becomes more obvious after a few drinks. the other little problem i have is a slight hording issue. i like stuff, i mean really like stuff but i hardly ever steal stuff i want, although i do tend to really want it at the time. little things can be so personal and i’ve got such a fucking skill for taking things so i figure why the hell not. alright, so i have absolutely no control over this little habit, i don’t even notice my collection growing sometimes but it’s not a massive problem. i hardly ever take anything of any importance so why people get so pissy over such inadequate stuff goes over my head. i reckon people are just jealous, jealous of my super sweet thieving skills. i can pick up anything i want and they won’t feel a fucking thing. it a pretty awesome talent, comes in handy as well when you want something you’re not allowed. "
HOW CAN WE ACCOMODATE YOU BETTER?
[/size][/font]”i like fast cars and spinning rooms, late nights and even later mornings. i like loud music that makes your entire body thud along to it in that almost painful way and i love being so drunk i can’t remember where the blood came from. i like puppy dogs and rainbows, discovering you’ve avoided throwing up your guts after those last few shots of absinthe and having confidence to not give a shit about anything. i like my lack of commitment and my absolute love for life. i like people who smile, people who pout, and people who think far too much of themselves. i like little treasures and stealing stuff you’re not meant to have. i like being caged just to have the thrill of the escape, i hate not being able to escape. i hate authority and that cocky attitude it allows fuch-tards to develop yet i adore to bring them down with harsh words and even harsher actions. i hate not having a drink, i can’t stand sobriety. i envy the relationship between the sun and the moon, always at an arms distance. i don’t like pity when i don’t seek it, i don’t like the use of ignorance as an excuse yet i like using ignorance as an excuse. i love people who underestimate me, i have people who see me from what i am. i fear my own ability to black out after several pints and i fear one day it will go to far. i’m scared of my total lust for fight and how much pain turns me on. i hate anyone who knows this and seek to hurt those who use it. i’m confidant to the point of cocky and have skin as thick a brick. i’m social, friendly and find people latch onto me quite easily. i can’t say no to drink and have a hard time saying no to anything whilst drinking. i can’t not take anything i want and i can’t control these habits i’ve picked up. my zest for life and self destruction is really just trying to get through every day in mundane fucking world we’re stuck in. i’m frightened of children and i’m scared of being fixed, being normal. i don’t want to die here. "
TELL US ABOUT YOUR PAST.
[/size][/font]"my parents said i was going to be famous one day but that was before i started skipping class and spending days getting stoned in the basement. it all started in kent, england. that lovely little place where my rents had some fuck off huge house. the parties there when they were away one holiday were pretty impressive and there was nobody nearby to call the cops. i was the second child to the lovely heather and len, heather’s family lived only a few miles away but when i learned to speak i saw little of ‘em much to my approval. len however came from the u.s, christ knows where. i know he’s southern but that’s pretty much it, i’m quick enough to know that’s a pretty wide choice though. they met at a fuelled up rave, or a ‘dinner’ as they referred to it, a rave would have been much more impressive though. their families were both pretty well off, my mother’s were hailed from russian billionaires and live of the interest these days, it all rolls up into a decent little sum. when i was born, they already had a kid, jace was five at the time and already a nerdy little fuckwitt. the rents found it so bloody adorable when he decided to teach me to read at the age of one, i however decided it would be more fun to ball my eyes out and yank at his ginger hair, or ‘strawberry blond’ as he likes to insist. i was born with dark brown hair, in an entire family of blondes, fishy don’t ya’ think although at the mention of an affair i would get a swift kick up the ass. my mum was a goddess, all my boyfriends used to drool over her but i inherited a good few of her traits, the same sort of elegant build but like my dad i’m short as hell. all that elegance packed into such a small package has gotta be explosive. even when i was little i had this massive ego, i’d parade about the house and demand attention yet when i didn’t get it i went elsewhere. i found out other people were willing to give me attention, i was the sort of girl other girls used to hate, the boyfriend stealer and home wrecker but then when i was fourteen i got bored and turned onto girls as well. now i can fuck up pretty much any relationship i want. i used to be pretty good at school, aced almost any test i could be given but booze is pretty distracting. i had my first pint when i was twelve, this guy gave it to me at a party i wasn’t meant to be at. but as long as i didn’t grass him out he let me join in. i got wasted drunk but not so much to pass out, something i quite like these days. instead i lay in the garden with messed up hair and my dress barley even on anymore. he brought me another pint but then i had the ability to know when enough was enough. instead of going away he stayed, kept me warm and we fucked, it was bliss. it changed things between jace and i, he didn’t ever talk to me unless he wanted a quick shag, my rents never knew a thing and i didn’t give a shit how wrong it was. he went through a few girlfriends but he said they were never as good as me. my brother taught me to fuck and drink and do drugs without passing out. when i was about fourteen or fifteen i wanted my own life. we still occasionally got together but i was trying to be healthier, be with guys that didn’t have the same genes. it worked…to a degree but i went around a lot of people just to feel better, to feel clean. i’ve been with very few people sober, in fact i can’t even recall one sober lay. my rents decided i was fucked up, going out to raves and parties every night at sixteen was unbearable for them so they tried to make me a social recluse and lock me away in here. "
IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE?
[/size][/font]"i fucked your mom."
THE MASTERMIND BEHIND IT ALL.
[/size][/font]hey, my name is ace[/color] i have nineteen[/color] tracks spinning on my record. this is my first[/color] character. i have been roleplaying for too many[/color]. the password is poison, inject me, silicone and saline[/color].[/font][/size]
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]
was she hiding? no of course not. did she want to be found? probably not. kat was torn between her own company and making nice with some of the other patients for she was a pretty cheery little thing for the day. it had taken her weeks to settle however it was clear the process had been achieved. sickly pale flesh seemed to have a little life to it, you could swear she now almost had the ability to blush although getting her to do it was another thing. her eyes had some form of their natural green tones back and she didn’t look quite so in need to a good sleep, in fact one could even stretch to say that she looked quite attractive. her eyes had been neatly outlined in eyeliner, careful not to create her normal tired and smudged look for today she was in a fresh good mood. the source to this good mood though was not a certain someone, it wasn’t even those pills they were trying to force down her neck but instead it was what rested within her hands. a bottle of jack, not the best of poisons to be fair but hell, it was alcohol wasn’t it? the small, secluded space offered the girl solitude and protection to keep her drink to herself, she wasn’t selfish, she would share however getting her prize taken from her would be a terrible thing. it was staff she was on the lookout for and she figured the best place to hide from staff was stupidly close to them down the basement. it was after all where she had gotten her precious item. some silly nurse had rushed from their room leaving the door ajar, kat was fortunate enough to witness such an event and decided to have a snoop around. first she had taken the bottle of jack, it had some already missing though was mixed in with an array of booze and probably wasn’t going to be missed.
it didn’t stop there though, she had a brilliant idea and snuck into the bathroom where she was to find a razor, well most females owned a few she figured. making sure the member of staff had spares so it wouldn’t be missing she made her exit and closed the door behind her to stop any suspicion. with her newly gained possessions she skipped off to bed like a good girl and now she was here. mid afternoon as she had woken up late, the first stop was the dingy little storage room. in the far corner of the room were stacked tables, old and crooked, piled up in twos. the top unit had been placed upside down with the legs protruding into the air. It was here she was perched, sitting back on the table with her back pressed to one of the legs. with suck determination and such concentration, her first task was to dismantle the razor, as if she was planning on using it for cosmetic purposes, she wanted to play with the damn thing. it snapped in her hands and she managed to slip cutting her palm open, it only dribbled blood pathetically and so she was able to concentrate of the task at hand for the moment. removing the blades, she tossed the useless plastic aside and sat back once more. bringing her hand to her face so she could see it better, she frowned, the initial cut obscured by the slow dribble of blood. with her free hand, and without looking she unwound the lid from the bottle of jack daniel’s. lifting it to her lips she took several gulps before she could feel it’s warmth fill her, see, now this is what she needed. alcohol was far better than any drug, it made her instantly happier, calmer and usually a lot safer however armed with razor blades to play with that wasn’t a given.
her slender form was clad in a pair of grey skinny jeans that had little to n colour left in them, worn to the point of one knee having a pretty gaping hole in it and loose threads lazily hanging and tickling the skin that was bared. a black motorhead shirt framed her upper torso, stopping short of the hem of her jeans as most of her shirts did. she had a leather jacket as well but that was currently used, propped underneath her to sit against the dirty table. her feet wore a pair of old chucks, red canvas and the white laces were undone making them a loose fit indeed but comfortable of head. her locks had been brushed back as always by her fingers, recently washed and still slightly damp from her earlier shower. it wasn’t like kat to be so organised, it was extremely out of character for the girl yet she knew today would be a good day. either she would hide out for hours and get absolutely legless on a bottle of jack alone or she would get caught with her sneaky prize and have a good old fight on her hands with a member of staff. it was a win, win situation really hence her pretty decent mood. the early afternoon as she had risen from bed was consumed with a feeling much like excitement as she looked forward to her little treat planned later on. her items had been hidden in the store room and she was glad, ecstatic even to find them still there the following day. now, they were safely in her clutches.
bottle still in one hand, she brought her injured one closer and drew her tongue across the wound to remove any traces of blood. now with a better view she could see it wasn’t going to be fatal, just a rather clean and shallow wound. unable to stop herself, she placed the bottle down, her fingers idly probing the broken skin and attempting to force their way in. digging relentlessly into her own flesh, it bled more yet she didn’t stop, it instead spurred her own and her nails were used to extend the small wound into a rather lengthy one running the entire width of her palm almost. it was fascinating, painful and more than anything arousing yet kat had learned to deal with such a thing. for someone who harmed herself to such an extent she had to deal with not seeking pleasure every time she did so. now it was just an irritating, thrilling burn that she could force to that back of her mind and replace with the pain that was searing through her hand. she frowned and removed her fingers from the laceration, now bleeding a little more substantially, she held her harmed hand over the side of the desk and watched as the blood steadily pooled on the worn out ground. her attention quickly turned to her other hand and she removed the traced of blood beneath her nails delicately with her tongue. almost instantly her hand landed back on the bottle and she drew it to her lips for another drink. completely at ease, the bottle rested on her lap, still within her grasp as she tilted her head back to rest against the wooden leg. slowly her eyes closed with comfort and had fist opened to reveal a bloody palm to the cool air, her expression flinching at the sudden draft to it yet forcing it to remain open as she allowed the fluid to continuously drip down her finger and too her floor. today was going better than she had planned.
it didn’t stop there though, she had a brilliant idea and snuck into the bathroom where she was to find a razor, well most females owned a few she figured. making sure the member of staff had spares so it wouldn’t be missing she made her exit and closed the door behind her to stop any suspicion. with her newly gained possessions she skipped off to bed like a good girl and now she was here. mid afternoon as she had woken up late, the first stop was the dingy little storage room. in the far corner of the room were stacked tables, old and crooked, piled up in twos. the top unit had been placed upside down with the legs protruding into the air. It was here she was perched, sitting back on the table with her back pressed to one of the legs. with suck determination and such concentration, her first task was to dismantle the razor, as if she was planning on using it for cosmetic purposes, she wanted to play with the damn thing. it snapped in her hands and she managed to slip cutting her palm open, it only dribbled blood pathetically and so she was able to concentrate of the task at hand for the moment. removing the blades, she tossed the useless plastic aside and sat back once more. bringing her hand to her face so she could see it better, she frowned, the initial cut obscured by the slow dribble of blood. with her free hand, and without looking she unwound the lid from the bottle of jack daniel’s. lifting it to her lips she took several gulps before she could feel it’s warmth fill her, see, now this is what she needed. alcohol was far better than any drug, it made her instantly happier, calmer and usually a lot safer however armed with razor blades to play with that wasn’t a given.
her slender form was clad in a pair of grey skinny jeans that had little to n colour left in them, worn to the point of one knee having a pretty gaping hole in it and loose threads lazily hanging and tickling the skin that was bared. a black motorhead shirt framed her upper torso, stopping short of the hem of her jeans as most of her shirts did. she had a leather jacket as well but that was currently used, propped underneath her to sit against the dirty table. her feet wore a pair of old chucks, red canvas and the white laces were undone making them a loose fit indeed but comfortable of head. her locks had been brushed back as always by her fingers, recently washed and still slightly damp from her earlier shower. it wasn’t like kat to be so organised, it was extremely out of character for the girl yet she knew today would be a good day. either she would hide out for hours and get absolutely legless on a bottle of jack alone or she would get caught with her sneaky prize and have a good old fight on her hands with a member of staff. it was a win, win situation really hence her pretty decent mood. the early afternoon as she had risen from bed was consumed with a feeling much like excitement as she looked forward to her little treat planned later on. her items had been hidden in the store room and she was glad, ecstatic even to find them still there the following day. now, they were safely in her clutches.
bottle still in one hand, she brought her injured one closer and drew her tongue across the wound to remove any traces of blood. now with a better view she could see it wasn’t going to be fatal, just a rather clean and shallow wound. unable to stop herself, she placed the bottle down, her fingers idly probing the broken skin and attempting to force their way in. digging relentlessly into her own flesh, it bled more yet she didn’t stop, it instead spurred her own and her nails were used to extend the small wound into a rather lengthy one running the entire width of her palm almost. it was fascinating, painful and more than anything arousing yet kat had learned to deal with such a thing. for someone who harmed herself to such an extent she had to deal with not seeking pleasure every time she did so. now it was just an irritating, thrilling burn that she could force to that back of her mind and replace with the pain that was searing through her hand. she frowned and removed her fingers from the laceration, now bleeding a little more substantially, she held her harmed hand over the side of the desk and watched as the blood steadily pooled on the worn out ground. her attention quickly turned to her other hand and she removed the traced of blood beneath her nails delicately with her tongue. almost instantly her hand landed back on the bottle and she drew it to her lips for another drink. completely at ease, the bottle rested on her lap, still within her grasp as she tilted her head back to rest against the wooden leg. slowly her eyes closed with comfort and had fist opened to reveal a bloody palm to the cool air, her expression flinching at the sudden draft to it yet forcing it to remain open as she allowed the fluid to continuously drip down her finger and too her floor. today was going better than she had planned.
