Cio

Motel Cadillac

---

"I got my ticket for the long way 'round
Two bottle 'a whiskey for the way
And I sure would like some sweet company
And I'm leaving tomorrow, wha-do-ya say?"

A red Volvo P1800 drove full speed past a worn sign on the highway. Under the blazing midday sun, with no company save for the car which was far more valuable than the driver knew, Becca felt free. Was the car hers? Pfft, of course not. Or the fat wallet in her pocket, was that hers? Not even close. But really, the brunette couldn't bring herself to feel too bad about it. Was it really stealing if the previous owner had stolen the goods in the first place?
Besides, Vince had a garage full of vintage cars and more money than things to throw it at. He wouldn't miss this particular one, Becca concluded.
Can't argue with that logic.

"When I'm gone, when I'm gooone," Becca sang, her voice gaining volume to compete with the loud, pothole filled road:
"you're gonna miss me when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me by my hair
You're gonna miss me everywhere, oh
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

Where was she, exactly? Becca couldn't tell. She knew she was somewhere in Arizona, as she'd driven pretty much non-stop since leaving unannounced half a week ago. The brunette did have a phone with her, only she'd blocked and deleted all her old contacts and social media. Letting go of those sweet sweet followers had been tough, but the girl didn't want to be tracked. Had she been actually smart about it, she would've ditched the phone altogether and bought a new one. However, Becca hadn't exactly planned this. She hadn't planned packing in the dead of the night and taking off in a car which had belonged to her boyfriend slash fiance slash ex... whatever. Becca was so done with that. She didn't have the energy to think about that, only the new adventure ahead of her. At least she was smart enough to not use any credit cards.

---

One slight problem: gas was running out, and there was no gas station in sight. Or anything, really. This is what Becca imagined the entirety of Arizona to look like, just a big, boiling wasteland with dried up tufts of whatever growing from the cracks on the road. The only sign of civilisation being the aforementioned road, with everything around it belonging to mother nature.

"Come on now..." Becca huffed as her eyes kept shifting to look at the small gas tank meter, fully in red by now. Cars weren't really Becca's area of expertise. She'd just taken the one that looked the nicest. Gone was her good mood from earlier, replaced by a mild worry. Getting stranded here, in the middle of nowhere without GPS and reception, that was not an option. Maybe she should've thought this through after all.

Just as Becca thought that, she lifted her gaze to see a town on the horizon, slowly becoming clearer in the dust. At first the brunette thought it was a mirage, with the heat rising in waves from the road and all around her, but as she got closer it became clearer this was indeed her saviour.
"Yess! Oh my god, yes, thank fuck," Becca exclaimed as she drove closer to the faded ghost of a town. There was a sign, rusty and dented and something straight out of a horror movie. It read "Welcome to Coalfell" with big, worn out letters Becca could barely make out.
She had never seen anything more welcoming in her entire life.

CRACK!!

In her excitement, Becca had forgotten to watch the road for all the numberless potholes in it. The road was really more holes than road, if she was honest. Whatever place Becca had found herself in, it wasn't very well maintained. But at least it was remote. Remote was exactly what Becca needed right now.

Mindful of the potholes scattered across the pavement, Becca carefully maneuvered her car to the side of the road. She was just in time, too, since the car shut of right then and there, effectively out of gas altogether.
"Come on," Becca grumbled, hitting the steering wheel with her fists in frustration. She was so close to the town. She could even see the sign of a diner looking place in the distance. Couldn't the gas have lasted a few more blocks? Now she'd have to walk out in the melting midday heat, and she was already covered in sweat despite the somewhat functional A/C in the car.
Becca steeled herself and opened the car door, instantly being hit with a breeze of hot, dry air in her face. She didn't even have a hat, for god's sake. At least the brunette had packed her sunglasses with her, otherwise the brightness would've blinded her.

Becca locked up the car, making sure everything was nice and secure. She didn't take what little luggage she had with her out of the trunk of the car, deciding it was wisest to go around looking for any signs of life first. Plus she was rather thirsty.
Looking around, Becca's gaze settled on the diner once more. It seemed worn like the rest of the place, but much more likely to be still up and functioning compared to much of the other buildings. Sliding her large sunglasses on, Becca began walking in her five inch wedges towards the diner. Maybe someone there could point her to a gas station.

"There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I'm one..." Becca hummed as she got closer. The song came from nowhere, maybe from how this place looked, or the blazing heat scorching her mostly revealed skin. The girl's face lit up as she got near enough to read the sign on the diner's door. KARAOKE NIGHT! it said with big letters, although Becca couldn't be sure if that held true still. It didn't matter.
"Sweet, I love karaoke!" the young woman said to herself with a grin, pushing the door open. There was the sound of a bell over her head.

Walking to the counter with a bright attitude, ignoring the fact that it seemed to suddenly be dead quiet in the cafe, Becca sat next to a man that seemed to be waiting for the server's attention.
"Hi," Becca greeted him with an open smile, looking around for the first time. There was another woman at the counter, drop dead gorgeous and seemingly engaged in conversation with someone sitting at the tables. Now Becca realised how quiet it was in the bar. All the eyes were on the woman Becca had just described in her mind, and by extension, on her.
Oops. Why were they looking at them like that? Trying to ignore the slight awkwardness in the air, Becca turned and waved at the server that neared them with a weary look in her eyes.

"Hi! Such a lovely little place you have here. Do you serve anything cold? A frappé maybe?" Becca asked, hopeful. The server shot her a look that clearly signaled to Becca 'what do you think this is? Starbucks?'
After a brief silence Becca drew out a "Yeah... Point taken," before smiling a bit more sheepishly. "Just a lemonade, then. And you? Did you want to order something?" Becca asked turning to the man next to her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that now all the eyes were on her instead.
@SamaraJayne96

Motel Cadillac

Sunshine Barbie!

#fee46b

Full Name: Rebecca Kemp

Nickname: Becca _{-- but also Babs, Sunshine Barbie, Becky}

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual (...and currently quite fed up with men)

Relationship Status: "It's... complicated."
Single, she thinks. Hopes.

Occupation: Actress/singer... an aspiring one, at least

Appearance:
Becca is petite, but her energy is brighter than a thousand suns. Her face is pretty: with her big brown doll eyes and round cheeks she looks like she's certainly won the genetic lottery. Dimples form in the corners of her mouth as she smiles, and this seems to be almost the deafult expression found on the brunette's face. Becca wears a lot of makeup, though she makes it seem natural in style, preferring nude shades over bright ones.
Only 4'11, Becca compensates for her lack of height with ridiculously high heels and wedge shoes, bumping up the shoe-aholic's height by at least five inches. Becca's skin is light but sunkissed and she has soft curves that pad the bones around her body. She has lone freckle here and there, peppered over her body sparcely. The girl's hair is a wavy ombre with light brown, almost blonde, at the tips and more natural brunette at the roots.
Becca's voice is as bright as her personality, but it isn't nasal in the slightest. She's a good singer, too.

Personality:
Social - Flirty - Funny - Energetic // Immature - Insecure - Gets bored easily

Bright and peppy, Becca comes across as the perfect person to pull you out of your misery. She acts very carefree and positive, socialising with everyone like the extravert she is. The brunette talks alot, although surprisingly she doesn't reveal much of her real emotions. She's truly a free spirit, yet stops at nothing to brighten other's days, always ready to be the splash of colour in someone's life.
Becca may come across a bit shallow if you don't know her, as her fashion sense and everything about her tick the sort of "popular, pretty airhead" trope. And while grades and academic talent was never Becca's biggest merit, she does go a lot deeper than just being an endlessly optimistic bimbo with basic tastes. She's surprisingly a bit geeky, having lots of unconventional interests to balance out the "basic" ones.
Becca is quite the musical theatre nerd, aspiring to be an actress or a singer someday, although her goals might be much higher than what is realistic. She's also a movie nerd and can probably quote you some of her favourite movies line for line, never tiring with her old favourites.
Becca's downfalls are her naivety, indecisiveness, and refusal to process difficult things. She makes rash decisions and conclusions without seeing the full picture, and oftentimes ends up running away at the sight of the slightest problem instead of working through it like an adult. Becca's inability to take responsibility for her own actions coupled with her big, feelings filled heart makes it quite hard for Becca to truly "grow up" and stop ignoring the problems in her life. The brunette is also bad at taking constructive critisism, especially if it's aimed at her talents or appearances. She isn't quite as self-confident as she lets on, harboring quite the lot of insecurity and repressed sadness within her.
All in all Becca is a complex package of all things. She definitely has her shortcomings, but she's also someone who really cares about others and can open up into a truly genuine, thoughtful individual when given the chance.

Likes:
- Acting/Theatre (both musical and normal)
- Flirting
- Singing and music
- Action movies
- SHOES, so many shoes
- Frappuchinos
- Fashion
- Video games (though she is quite bad at them)

Dislikes:
- Facing her problems
- Judgy people
- Country music
- Stuck-up people
- Commitment
- Bad comedy

Short Bio:
Whenever things get hard, Becca runs. That's what she's done all her life, and continues to do: it's how she found herself in front of a weird little motel in Coalfell.
Becca was born in Maine, USA. She was the only child, and always had a much closer bond with her father than with her mother. Becca and her mother's personalities didn't clash well, and while she loved Becca very much, the mother never seemed to understand the girl like her father did. On the other hand, Becca and her father had a shared love of music, humour and a free spirit.

The first time Becca ran was when her father passed away due to cancer. This wasn't by choice, as Becca quite literally had to move away with her mother to live closer to their relatives. So, at the age of twelve Becca and her mother moved across the continent and learned that the best way to escape pain was running from it. It didn't do anything to lessen the mommy issues Becca already had.

Fast forward your standard rebellious, fling filled teen years, Becca moved away as soon as she turned eighteen. After that she managed to find herself homeless, only to somehow end up living with a criminal gang. It was nothing murder-related, but defenitely illegal - and while Becca didn't commit any crimes herself, she did cover up for the gang a lot.
After one too many will-they-won't-they, on-and-off relationships -- and a marriage proposal by a criminal gang leader boyfriend -- Becca found herself running again.

Southern Babe

Somewhere Only We Know

#C65D1C

---

Full Name: Carolina Mary Bennett (née Jenkins)

Nickname: Carrie, Carol, Curry _{<- By brothers}

Age: Thirty-ish

Gender: Female

Sexuality: The L word

Relationship Status: Single as a pringle, ready to mingle

Occupation: Studies accounting, though she's taking a break from her studies to take care of personal matters

Appearance: Carrie is slender, she has naturally brown hair and dreamy eyes. When the woman speaks, she has a subtle but recognizable Southern accent, one that she picked up from living in Arkansas. Her voice is a bit low-pitched and it has a slight raspiness to it.
Carrie's style is very put together. She likes to dress clean and borderline formal most of the time, using fashionable pantsuits and simple jewelry to appear as someone of a higher upbringing. In private, she prefers trousers still, but can be seen with less formal shirts to balance the look.
Carrie is almost 5'8" tall.

Personality: Carolina appears calm and observing. Really she's just not that into talking unless she has something to say. When she does speak, there is no doubt in the world that she can hold her own. She takes shit from no one, often surprising people with how firm she can be when undermined. Beneath Carolina's surface there is endless passion for the things she cares about. She's never been that good at school naturally, but has worked her way through with flying colours thanks to hard work and determination.
Carrie treats those around her with respect as long as she is respected in return. She has no problem throwing hands with someone if needed. To her, a person deserves to be treated the way they treat other people.
Oftentimes Carrie has no issue making friends or socialising, but even some of her closest friends may notice she rarely talks about herself or how she's feeling. The woman seems much more keen on living in the moment and making bonds now than dwelling in the past.

Likes:

• Anything chocolate
• Hate-watching bad romcoms
• Cats

Dislikes:

• Excuses
• Hot temperatures
• Organised religion

Short Bio: Carrie was born and spent her childhood in Coalfell, Arizona. Her family wasn't wealthy, her father providing by working at the gas station day and night. Aside from him and a stay-at-home mother, Carrie had two older brothers, 8 and 10 years apart from her.

At the age of twelve Carolina moved to Fort Smith, Arkansas, to live with her eldest brother Matthew, who had moved away to study five years prior. She attended school there, graduating and beginning college. Carolina married a man named Kyle - a fellow college classmate - at the age of 23. The marriage was rather shortlived as Carrie would come to realise she was a lesbian. They divorced after three years of marriage, all of which were lukewarm at best. Carolina, much like her brothers, didn't stay in touch with their parents.

It was only after Carolina heard of her mother's passing that she returned to Coalfell, nearly two decades after leaving. She's hoping to find her childhood home still standing... and who knows, maybe get some closure, too. Maybe it's just a trip down the memory lane?

Motel Cadillac

Moved to character tab -->

Motel Cadillac

I found my way here, woohoo!

Tales from the Spider-Verse: Spidroin [redux]

September 7th, 20XX, NYC

---

The week hadn't been kind to Ripley Hayes. Of course there was nothing new in that. Most weeks weren't, but usually Ripley's weeks didn't involve being hospitalized due to an unexpected terrorist gas attack, losing contact with one of the two people who gave a shit about how she was, and coming to realise that this said gas attack had changed her. Changed how? The girl didn't know if she was being honest. She just... knew. Felt it in her bones or something. Something was different, and Ripley wasn't sure she liked it.

"Happy birthday, Rip," she murmured to herself, staying curled in her unmade bed for a few extra seconds before getting up to face the day. 19, what an odd number. Both literally and figuratively. Ripley didn't feel older, that was for sure. She wasn't sure if she was meant to even feel like that -- if anyone did, or if it was just something people expected of you. Age was an arbitrary number, after all.
Ripley's morning went much like any other of her mornings. She got dressed and ate breakfast in her cramped dorm room, listening music as she did so. Aside from a 'happy birthday' text from her grandmother, Ripley hadn't recieved any new messages. Her mom was probably still sleeping, being in California and all. Her father, though... Ripley wasn't sure what the sudden silent treatment was about, but it stressed her out. Sure, she hadn't called her parents to let either of them know she was in the hospital after the attack, but she hadn't wanted to worry them. The last message between Ripley and her dad was her mentioning she'd been released from the hospital and her father getting kind of angry for not being told sooner.
"Whatever," Ripley huffed with determination as she buttoned her plaid shirt and braided her teal hair like usual. "If he thinks he can act like a child, I'm not going to be the adult either."

The rest of the day was kind of a blur. Ripley spent most of her free day studying, emerging from her room only to go grab something else than cold leftover pizza for dinner. She got a lovely call from her mother wishing her happy birthday. She told Ripley it was a lovely weather out in California, and the girl smiled ruefully at that.
"That sounds awesome! If only it wasn't so gray here," Ripley replied as she glanced out the window of her dorm. Ripley's mother must've heard the tone in her voice, since she became solemn over the line.

"Is everything okay with you there? You're not having second thoughts about the program?"

"What- no! New York's the best, I love it here. Seriously, don't even worry," Ripley protested quickly with a laugh, "Me and dad are going on a birthday dinner tonight, actually. It's going to be amazing," Ripley continued, smiling cheerily even though her mother couldn't see it.

"Oh, that's nice. I'll let you get to it then. Love you, Little Fishie~"

"Love you too, mum." Ripley let her smile fall as she heard the noise of her mother ending the call. The teal haired girl sat up straighter, the silence ringing in her ears annoyingly. With a sigh Ripley turned to her tamagotchi, which was hanging out next to her on her bed and all the text books.
"What?" Ripley asked as if it was looking at her pointedly. "I might not be eating out with dad, but mum doesn't have to know that. I've got you, Kip," she declared, putting a piece of paper between her book to mark the page she'd been on. Ripley put down the book from her hands and grabbed her tamagotchi - Kip, she called the current one - and stuffed in in her pocket.

"Time to go on an adventure! We're going to feast tonight, you and me."

---

Day of the Memorial Service - September 9th, 20XX, NYC
Interaction: Lindy @AmpharosBoy

---

"I'm telling you, it's not the same! I hate those places, all slippery tiles and boring scenery. If my only option is to swim indoors I might as well not swim at all," Ripley argued as she walked down the street. She was talking to Kip -- well -- really she was talking to herself, but it felt nice to feel like she was having a conversation. Had it not been New York where people largely minded their own business, Ripley might've earned a few strange looks. Of course she had her headphones in so people might assume she was just having a phone conversation. Not that anyone did care. It was New York, after all. Places to go, places to be.
The real source of the argument was Ripley's desire to go swimming again, maybe even diving. But with the weather being what it was and indoor swimming pools not being an option, Ripley's options were very limited. There was always that part of her that wanted to be near water, but oftentimes it got outweighed by the other side of her that set her standards.

Ripley walked down the street, nearing the place she knew the memorial service would be held. No one close to her had passed away in the gas attack, but Ripley did know some students from her year that had died. It felt almost surreal, to think that some of the people she was in the same space with daily were no longer there. Just... gone. No longer breathing, or waking up to see a new day. The thought made Ripley uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. The girl had an unique relationship with death and how she viewed it, but it wasn't without fear. Fear of the finality of it, or the unknown that would follow if such existence after death was possible.

However, there was also a part of Ripley that felt guilty. She didn't like to examine it too closely. She knew the attack hadn't been her fault in any shape, or form. Yet she felt guilty for being one of the lucky ones that got to survive. That gas had killed most of the people exposed to it, but not her. There was this small portion of people who had survived, seemingly random. So why them?
The mystery of it was maddening to Ripley. She loved a good mystery, but now with the very real guilt of surviving when some of those in her year hadn't... it got to the girl more than she liked to admit.

So, she was on her way to the memorial service. Not because she'd known the victims, but out of respect.

"You know what... I'm sorry about this, but today I have no room for wandering thoughts. Thanks for listening, but now..." Ripley pressed two buttons on Kip simultaneously, setting him on pause so she wouldn't have to worry about feeding him. What a crappy pet owner she must've been, really. Fortunately virtual pets didn't depend on you like real ones did. Ripley pocketed Kip and looked up as she neared the crowd of people gathering around the memorial service location.

Most people seemed to be there with their friends and families or loved ones, at least that's how it seemed to Ripley. Her gaze followed a few hollow looking individuals here and there. They'd clearly lost someone in the attack.
Ripley bit her lip and looked around for a place to stand around in. A part of her wanted to go over to those people and apologise for... for what, exactly? For overcoming the symptoms? Or for not being able to save anyone unlike some quick-thinking heroes? Rationally thinking Ripley knew there was nothing to apologise for, but she just felt for these people. It must've been quite hard.

Thump!

Ripley took a hasty step backwards to steady herself as a man tried to squeeze himself through between Ripley and the other person standing in front of her. People had been gathering and they were everywhere, so it was impossible to avoid bumping into anyone. That was the case for Ripley too, as her back hit someone's side in the chain reaction. Spinning around with her hands ready to steady the person out of reflex, Ripley stared at the girl behind her, eyes wide.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you like that--" the taller girl blurted automatically, eyes locking with the read haired, blue eyed stranger.

What Ripley had failed to notice was that in her sudden movement Kip had managed to fall out of her pocket: now it was on the ground, where it was immediately walked on by other people shuffling in the gathering crowd.

Tales from the Spider-Verse: Spidroin [redux]

Ripley Hayes | The Diving Spider

All right, let’s take it from the top, one more time…

What’s your name?
"Noelle Hayes. Friends and family call me Ripley though - that's my middle name."

How old are you?
"19, that's me!"

What do you look like?

"What do I look like? Well uh... I have teal hair and... I think I'm quite tall, not like super tall, but still. Maybe around 5'9"? People can never figure out the color of my eyes and to be honest neither can I. Depends on the lighting really, but mostly they look kinda grayish hazel..? It's an ongoing debate, trust me."

"I have a few piercings. And if you're wondering about the little scar I have here on my cheekbone, I really wish I could say it's a hardcore battlescar. But no, I got it before all of this spidey stuff and well... Okay, I'm not going to tell you the story because it is extremely unimpressive. But basically I cut my face preeettty badly as a kid. The doctors said it would probably leave a faint scar... and it did."

"My suit is basically a repurposed wet suit, so there's that."

What did you do before the Recluse incident?
"My parents raised me in California, where we had a house for ourselves. They tell me I've always been really interested in sea life, ever since I was little. That's how I remember most of my childhood, really. I'm an only child, so I've always been pretty used to playing alone. Doesn't mean it didn't suck, though. I had many hobbies - I started diving rather young, and I've even learned how to surf. Dad would always say I learned to dive before I learned to swim, and that kind of sums me up as a person, really.

We were happy. I think. Now, looking back, I can see it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Mum and dad fought a lot, I was alone a lot. They both loved me dearly, but as the years went on, their fights grew bigger and interactions more bitter. It wasn't a great environment to grow up in, and while I'm glad they finally divorced a six months ago, I wish they would've done it years sooner. I didn't have many friends growing up. I think people found me annoying, talking too much. I could never blame them for feeling that way - I can get lost in my own excitement when I'm passionate about something. Only in the recent years I've started making more friendly acquaintances and even friends, and honestly that has been the best part of moving from California to New York.

After divorcing my mum moved back to California. Dad lives in New York like I do, albeit on the other side of the city. I was always more of my father's girl anyway. Living on campus has been truly new and exciting, and a nice change of pace from high school.

Yeah, that's everything. Everything interesting anyway. I don't... Yeah, there are things I'd rather leave untouched, if that's fine."

What happened after the incident?
"I thought I'd fallen sick, like deadly ill. I couldn't stop being hyper aware of everything around me and sweating buckets. Later I realised I wasn't dying, but changing. When I would start sticking to all surfaces like my fingers had been superglued, I realised there was definitely something wrong with me. Or at least different. I called my dad the other day to make sure he was okay. He said he was, but now it's been a few days of radio silence. I'm starting to get worried - it's not like him to miss calls."

Strength | 0
Agility | 20
Durability | 5
Regeneration | 25
Spider-sense | 0
Mutation* | 50
_{*Air bubble + Organic & liquid web + Underwater Adaptability
(includes heightened senses underwater, darkvision, and automatic decompression)}

"Okay, maybe spacial awareness isn't my strongest suit, but you should see me in water! It's actually really fascinating, you see, thanks to the small hairs on my suit's antennae I'm able to create a durable bubble of breathable air around my head. It comes really handy even on land, especially if I need to save someone from a burning building. It really is super interesting! The air bubble mimics the way the actual diving spiders - diving bell spiders - create a breathable bubble around their bodies, only this time it's around my head like a helmet, and... Wait, I can see you're not listening. I didn't bore you, did I?"

"Oh, so you only want to know why my spider-sense is absolute rubbish? Well... I guess you could say I get distracted easily. By... by everything, really."

Do you believe in aliens?
"Who doesn't? No but really, have you ever seen an octopus? Or any deep sea creatures for that matter? If you think aliens are too far-fetched, just wait 'till you hear about chimaeras and barreleyes..."

What are your goals for the future?
"I'm interested in marine biology. I'm currently studying it at the uni, actually. I want to help the oceans recover, to prevent the coral reefs from dying, to study underwater life as a career. Those are all high and mighty goals, and I don't think I'll ever be the one to single-handedly solve anything. Still, science is always making new breakthroughs so I might as well try and help where I can."

You lived in New York for a while now, right? What do you think of the city?
"It's weird living in the opposite side of the country, but I think I'm adapting pretty well. California was nice with all the heat and vicinity to some great beaches, but I'm really loving the fact that we have four seasons here in NY. There aren't as many good scuba diving places here, so that's probably my biggest peeve..."

How much technology do you use on a daily basis?
"A... decent amount, for sure. How can one not in today's day and age? Don't get me wrong, I'm totally a phone addict, not one of those naggers with the baby boomer mindset of 'technology bad, internet evil'. I'm just saying that even if I didn't want to use my days face glued to the screen, how could I? It's pretty much the basis for modern society, and that's neat!"

What do you like?

- Scuba diving - "I no longer need the suit since I have my own... heh."
- Marine biology
- Conspiracy theories - "For fun, obviously! The wilder the better."
- Retro video games and RPGs - "I still have a tamagotchi that works! One of the early versions, too."
- Dungeons & Dragons
- Summertime
- Girls, for instance
- "People who at least pretend to listen when I talk..."
- Spontaneous activities because "treat yo-self"

What do you dislike?

- Sea food - "Ironic, I know."
- Raisins - "DISLIKE ISN'T STRONG ENOUGH A WORD TO DESCRIBE MY HATRED FOR THEM.."
- Tinnitus - "I try to drown it out with music, mainly, but there's nothing I'll ever miss more than the sweet absence of noise."
- Ignorant people, or self-absorbed people in general
- Indoor swimming pools
- Corporate greed
- Pollution
- Winter sports
- Apathy

Do you think true evil exists?
"Oh, absolutely: Raisins, the truest of all evils. Whoever created the concept of raisins should be punished for the evil they've unleashed on this world."

What’s your favorite color?
"Did my hair colour give it away? I really like teal, although orange is a very nice colour as well."

Favorite song?

"It's a close tie between these two."

On Melancholy Hill — Gorillaz

Spanish Sahara — Foals

Anything else to add?
"I was actually born in Wales. That's where my dad's from. We moved to California when I was really small 'cause that's where my mum's from. I guess she just got tired of the lousy weather... Not that dad minded. He loves it here."
"Coincidentally, the diving spell spider's habitat is actually in Europe. They live in fresh water, mostly ponds, and can be found in UK too. I don't think I've ever seen a live one, though."
"Usually we visit my dad's parents every two years or so, so I get to go back to the place I spent my early years. Or... at least we used to, that is."
"I'm not completely vegetarian, seeing as I eat fish from time to time. But I haven't eaten red meat since I was 12."
"I'm definitely a chaotic neutral btw."
"It's not something I go around announcing, but I've been on medication for depression since age 13."

What are your thoughts on these people?
Will be updated.

Tales from the Spider-Verse: Spidroin [redux]

Hey so I'm alive and just now noticed we have a new thread... I havent been kicked out have I?

✣ Truly Damned ✣

Time - Morning
Interactions: Keith @Salenea, (@Karisma Anahita mentioned)

---

Rory cracked a dry smirk at Keith's happy response. A faint buzzing between the blonde's ears confirmed what had already been quite obvious - he was being sarcastic, of course. Not quite understanding the reasons but not minding one bit, Rory was happy that sarcasm didn't seem to set off her head-piercing "bullshit alarm" like lies did.

Speaking of lies, there was one person full of them. Rory's attention from Keith was broken as she noticed Anahita - the girl she'd lazily dubbed as "the liar" - walked into the cafeteria. Rory really didn't even know this woman aside from the fact that every time she opened her mouth, Rory got a massive headache. She wouldn't be surprised if everything she'd overheard of the woman was a fairytale to begin with.

Rory's eyes shifted back to the blonde boy before her, and for the first time her attention was brought back to her muffin. Rory glanced down at the object Keith had referred to, noticing that her fingers had picked the edges of its muffiny goodness into tiny crumbs that littered the table. Sigh.
Despite Keith's words and how true they probably were, Rory knew she wasn't going to eat the muffin. But damn if it didn't smell delicious...
The bit about delusional disorder truly caught Rory off-guard. She almost appreciated that, however unwanted the information might've been. Something about this blonde man's staightforwardness was refreshing, charming, almost.
Almost enough for Rory to not comment on it.

She was just about to deliver an insensitive remark when Keith turned the question around. And what's on your record? Those words flared deep-seated anger within Rory. What did he think this was, an emotions free-for-all? And who did he think he was? She hadn't invited this kind of interaction, quite the opposite actually. So why was this man thinking it was okay to swoop in and snoop around about her personal life?
Rory's eyes flared as her hand clutched into a tight fist. Keith, however, didn't really leave room for a reply as he already debated on Rory's diagnosis.
That got her quiet for a moment.

"Nothing as grandiose as that, I'm afraid," the tired blonde hissed from between her teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. "Really none of your fucking business. Why don't you go and--" Rory began, only to be cut off by a sudden movement from far behind Keith. Her eyes met again with the staff person monitoring them in the cafeteria, their eyes delivering the message loud and clear. Don't cause a scene. That won't be tolerated here.
So, instead of telling Keith to go fuck himself and jump off a roof in case he really could fly, Rory held her tongue. Something deep inside of her told her she really didn't want to say that, anyway. It was all just a defense she put up in case something got too close, she knew that all too well. Knowing it almost made it worse.

"Look," Rory began anew, her tone less venomous and more just... weary, she supposed. "I'm here for the same reason everyone else - if I wasn't, I'd be dead. My thing's less thinking I-can-breathe-fire and more 'voluntarily destroying my own health and wellbeing for the hell of it'. Speaking of which... you got any cigs?"
Being clean - both alcohol and cigarettes - was surprisingly hard some days. It wasn't as bad as it had been when she'd first quit, but the cravings could get really intense sometimes. Alcohol wasn't something she'd ever enjoyed, really, but something about the burning smoke in her lungs, washed over by a wave of calmness, really made Rory crave it. It comforted her, made her think that maybe there was an alternate universe where she burned with her parents that one fateful night.
"...Nevermind. You don't look the smoking type," Rory shook her head, thinking the better of it. She licked her lips, feeling their chapped edges sharp against her tongue. "In any case, I'm here because they think I'm a danger to myself. Which... fair, if I'm honest, but doesn't really match to your delusions of being a unicorn or something," Rory answered finally. The corner of her mouth quipped up just a bit at the words, although she couldn't quite believe she'd said all of that. She couldn't quite believe she was having what felt like an actual conversation with someone who was annoyingly positive but refreshingly straightforward at the same time.

Tales from the Spider-Verse: Spidroin

Ripley Hayes

September 1st, Empire State University

---

It was quiet in the library. The only sounds occupying the space were the subtle clearings of throats, turning pages, and the graphite pencil that was scritching softly against paper.

The pencil paused. A frustrated sigh. The sound of the pencil tapping at the table. Silence.

And more writing.

Ripley Hayes' head wasn't in the game that day. Usually she was quicker than this, finishing the assignment for the day much earlier. Usually, by now she'd be studying for her own interest. Ripley sighed, closing her eyes to escape the fluorecent lights of the library.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

Ripley opened her eyes to face the stark white paper of her essay, only to be met with stains of fresh, red blood. The saturated drops seeped into the white of the paper, completely opaque on top of the gray scribbles her pen had made.
Confused, Ripley blinked and looked up to see where the blood was coming from. The movement caused blood to rush into her mouth, the warm, irony taste hitting the back of her tongue.
Was her nose bleeding?

Ripley brought her hands to cup her nose. They were covered in red before she could comprehend what was going on. Shit.
Ripley began looking for a tissue. Her nose was running now, the occasional drips having turned into a steady flow of blood. It was everywhere. The front and sleeves of her white hoodie — dear god why had she chosen to wear that today — were dotted with bright red blood that dried into a rusty burgundy colour.
Her head hurt. She felt dizzy, light headed. It must've been the blood loss.
Glancing around, Ripley was about to call for aid when she saw it. People were coughing, shaking, falling unconscious. Dread settled into the pit of Ripley's stomach. What was going on?

Red haze. Ripley wasn't sure if it was actually in the air or if it was just because of the blood everywhere, but everything seemed to be covered in red mist. Seeing people coughing, Ripley realised her throat felt itchy too.

Cough.

A splurt of blood hit the table, spraying from between Ripley's fingers. A coughing fit hit her, and blood was everywhere. Her lungs were burning, they were on fire, she was going to die. She was going to die then and there, surrounded by books and other withering people. Shit. F*ck.

Ripley realised she couldn't breathe, that her lungs simply wouldn't draw air. She panicked. The girl rose up from her seat, turning around to run... And was met with the cold floor and a sickening thud as her legs gave out.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe, she was suffocating, she was dying. She was going to die.

She was going to die, and she didn't even know why.

---

September 5th, Greenwich hospital, New York City, NY

---

Ripley had been going in and out of consciousness for days. She didn't know how or when, but she had ended up in the hospital. Someone must've called 911, because the last thing Ripley remembered was falling unconscious on the cold library floor.

It hurt. Breathing hurt, her lungs were on fire. Her limbs felt like they were constantly being assaulted by thousands of tiny needles. Her brain felt like it was frying. She was sweating, shaking, her spit was weird and foamy. All sounds were too loud, too close, too much. Her tinnitus felt like an ominous buzzing in her ears, it felt like a piercing pressure she couldn't get relief from.
Ripley didn't know what was happening to her, but she knew she wasn't the only one. Pained wails and groans carried down the hospital corridor, and all that accompanied it was machines beeping and hospital staff rushing back and forth from room to room.
People were in pain, just like her. So many people. Too many, in fact. Where would they all fit? There wasn't room for everyone.

The doctors told her what they knew, that she'd been right at the center of it all when it happened. "The attack," they called it. Ripley had no idea what they were talking about.
Apparently she'd been there for four days now. Ripley didn't remember much of it aside from the excruciating pain she'd been in. The doctors had been busy going in and out of the rooms, checking on multiple patients at a time. Ripley couldn't really remember anything.

"...Can I see my dad?" Ripley asked on the fifth day. He voice was raspy and weak from disuse. Everything felt off.

"We... Your mother is on the way. She was listed as your emergency contact, and she was the only one we could reach. Your father hasn't been picking up calls, unfortunately," the nurse checking on Ripley's IV explained.
Ripley frowned, blinking a few times. Why hadn't her dad picked up? Surely he would've done so as soon as he'd noticed the attack. He knew Ripley studied at that university, he would've been worried sick.

He would've picked up, he would've been here days ago. Why wasn't he here? There was no way, unless...

"...He's really busy," Ripley assured the nurse. Or was it herself? The nurse looked at Ripley, something akin to worry sparking in her eyes at the statement.
"Yeah, he... you know, he gets really caught up with his work sometimes. He could be on a work trip - yeah, that's it - he just haven't had the time to check his phone."

"What does your dad do for a living, if I may ask?"

"He's a business man. Probably just in a place that has really bad reception," Ripley insisted with a sure smile on her face. Despite Ripley's smile, her heart monitor sped up.
She was getting agitated.

"Well, your mother is on her way. She's taking a flight all the way from California to come and see you. She'll be here in the next few days," the nurse soothed, her voice calming and reassuring. Ripley nodded, but she didn't really seem to hear what the nurse was saying.

"Dad will come too. As soon as he realises he's been getting calls from the hospital, he'll come rushing in - just wait."

And wait she did.

✣ Truly Damned ✣

Time - Morning
Interactions: @Salenea

---

Rory had been turning the unpeeled banana in her hands for some time, staring at it blankly, when a voice interrupted her.
"Mind if I join you?" asked a blonde, fairly attractive young man with bright eyes and a plate full of entirely too much food for Rory to comprehend. Of course his breakfast was more appropriate in size, but to Rory it felt like a feast given her own sparce diet.

Who the fuck is this dimwit? was Rory's first thought. Her brows furrowed in annoyment as the man didn't wait for a reply, merely sat down and made himself comfortable. Rory's tired eyes were sharp.
"Apparently not," she bit back, her chapped lips forming a thin line as she placed the banana down on the table with just a little too much force for it to be controlled.
The man - Keith, he introduced himself - continued and said he'd seen her around before. Rory didn't much like that, being seen. If she had it her way, no one would even know she was there. Alas, it wasn't up to her.
Rory shot a foul look at the man from behind her stringy, damaged hair. She opened her mouth to say something - to sneer, to insult, probably tell him to go fuck himself - but a person in the back of the room caught Rory's attention. The staff member met Rory's eyes steadfastly, shaking his head as if he knew what Rory was thinking. It wasn't too hard to figure out, anyway.

Rory grunted, a sound that almost sounded like a hiss coming from her mouth.
"Rory. Has it crossed your mind that there might be a reason for why that is?" Rory answered to Keith's statement, her bony fingers fidgeting the paper mold her blueberry muffin was nestled in. The paper didn't crinkle much, having absorbed some of the grease from the muffin. Soon Rory's fingers began to pick at the edges of the delicious looking muffin, picking out tiny crumb sized pieces and shedding them on the table. She took a breath. Inhale, exhale.
"So what's your deal, anyway?" Rory asked, blunt as ever. She met Keith's eyes with her own, piercing teal against light blue. "You don't look too sick to me," she specified with a dry smirk, "nor that deranged. Aside from the fact that you thought I'd be good company, apparently."
Rory didn't remember talking to any resident here as much as she had just talked to this man. She probably had, but not in one go. It felt odd, a tad annoying, and a tiny bit satisfying. She had missed talking to someone, was it that?
Not that it would last, it never did. Rory had realised she had quite the skill for driving people away. Maybe she thought she got some sort of high from being rude, but really it was a bittersweet satisfaction that only lasted for that one second. It didn't fill anything, and Rory knew it. She just liked to pretend she didn't care.