sempis

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

---

Morning, in an apartment that isn't his

---

Nick rolled over lethargically, Why Did His Head Hurt So Much? The cover he was under felt really nice, and he vaguely wondered if he could stay like this forever. His body was definitely protesting any movement right now, and the comforter felt comfortingly heavy over his body, which was feeling more like a corpse at this point. Now that he thought about it, this mattress felt way too expensive to be his. He froze in place, realizing just how wrong things were. Thick comforter, annoyingly white and spotless, and a scent of- was that citrus? He opened his eyes slowly, knowing exactly what he was going to see, yet still hoping maybe he was wrong. Yep, definitely another human being sleeping next to him. She looked so peaceful sleeping, nothing like the person she had been yesterday. Oh, shit, yesterday.

God, even thinking was really hurting Nick's head. It felt like his whole body had a severe case of dry mouth, and his head felt like someone was driving nails into his skull. You definitely deserve this, a bitter voice muttered in the back of his head. This is what you get for not listening to your better judgement, asshat. Yep, and there it was, the self-loathing, right on schedule.

---

Yesterday, at the Pink Barrel

---

The bar was busy, and Nick wouldn't have been able to get a break, even if he needed one. Lucky enough, he didn't need one, nor did he really want one. He was content with the constant give and take of tasks at hand. Pass over a drink. Take a card. Tuck tips into his apron. The only complaint he had was that it really was getting hot in here. All these people partying. It didn't seem like the fact that it was only a Wednesday in the late after noon deterred people from packing in like sardines as the night wore on. The heat from all the bodies in a space that wouldn't feel so small if it weren't so crowded was starting to make Nick a little warm, and his uniform definitely wasn't helping. He was wearing what he usually dead, white button up collared shirt under a dark grey button up vest. His tie was tucked between his shirt and vest, and he was wearing a waist apron over his black slacks. He shoved his sleeves up his arms, contemplating if it would be too unprofessional to take his vest off. He poured himself a cold glass of water and drank it quickly. There were drinks to be made.

It looked like the next one on his list was a mango mai tai, extra heavy on the alcohol. He grabbed mango rum, oj, and pineapple juice, among other ingredients. He shook it up, poured it over a tall glass of ice, and stuck a pineapple and maraschino cherry skewer in one side. He turned around, scanning the bar, trying to remember who this order had come from.

Her eyes lit up expectantly when she saw him, and he was grateful that he didn't have to remember who ordered. The bar was stuffed to the gills. He'd seen her come in, a predatory look in her eyes, as if she'd come here for a purpose. She leaned over the counter in a way she must have thought was seductive, hoop earrings swinging wildly. In an afterthought it occurred to Nick that it was more of a slump than a lean. She must've had a couple drinks as a pregame. He didn't have much time to roll this over in his mind too much, though, since long acrylic nails burrowed into his forearm. Nick's wince was visible only in the brief furrow of his brow, but never did an uncomfortable feeling occur to him. He knew how to handle this, drunk people was part of the whole job. He would admit, though, stiletto style manicures did not feel great in flesh. He used the drink in his hand as an excuse to pry her nails out of his arm, putting the fruity cocktail in the offending hand. A fitting replacement, he figured. He turned to make another drink, but the lady in front of him scowled.

"Everything alright Miss?"

The lady simpered exaggeratedly. "It's been a bit of a strikeout night for me." She sighed, the fake smile dropping off of her face. "My first date ordered dinner and drinks, excused himself to the bathroom, and left me with the check."

The story sounded rehearsed, but Nick wasn't getting paid to bust customer's excuses for drinking. "Why, I'm sorry to hear that Miss. Hopefully you have a better time here. Your first drink is on me." He tried his best to sound sympathetic, the corners of his mouth perking up ever so slightly. She giggled at him, and Nick figured it was just the alcohol speaking. She kept ordering drinks, mostly fruit cocktails, and around sunset Nick told her he wouldn't be able to serve her drinks anymore. The last thing he wanted was to underestimate how much she'd had beforehand, and help her drink herself to alcohol poisoning.

She stayed, even though she agreed she wouldn't order anymore drinks. She alternated between the dance floor, the bar, and going for fresh air outside. Nick would refill her glass of water and bring her more bar snacks when she returned. It really did seem that she'd been having a rough night, for whatever reason. Closing time rolled around, and as he was wiping down the bar, he noticed the customer had yet to leave. She looked like she'd sobered up more, her eyes no longer as glazed as they had been before.

"Do you have a ride Miss..?"

"Jenna." She filled in the blank for him. "Unfortunately, my best friend isn't picking up." Nick noticed her words weren't slurred. Nick wasn't surprised, seeing as it was getting into the late hours of night. "I can just drive myself home."

"I mean, I could give you a ride, if you need one." Nick felt like letting her drive herself home was terrible idea. While she seemed only just past tipsy after all the water and hours that had passed, Nick wasn't going to chance anything. What kind of bartender would he be if he let his customers leave like this?

Her eyes lit up in a adorable way that betrayed her true nature, scribbling an address on a napkin. She stood up with surprising stability, but he put his arm around her shoulders He held open the passenger seat and winced a little when she flopped bonelessly inside his car. He buckled her in, leaning the seat back a little. She closed her eyes and smiled appreciatively. Nick went to his side of the car and punched the address into his phone. Halfway into the ride, she perked up, leaning her chair forward and talking to Nick until they got to her apartment. Nick got out and opened her door, helping her out. He turned to get back into his car, but she stopped him gently, asking him to walk her upstairs. Nick knew he should say no, but he followed her anyways.

---

Late Afternoon? Apartment 4B / The Roof

---

Ok, two steps forward, one step back, not one step forward, two steps back.

It had been nearly half a day since he'd woken up, and yet Nick still fell crappy about the whole event. He'd showered vigorously, scrubbing off all the dirt but not the regretful feeling. That was definitely sticking with him through the day. Well deserved that voice sniped in the back of his head, again.

He'd gone to the animal shelter, hoping doing something worthwhile would not only clear his conscience but maybe also realign his karma. He wasn't very superstitious, but he'd take what he could get. This past week, he'd been in a sort of slump, and he was hoping he could kick himself out of it.

So far, it seemed like his best chance was this party tonight. He'd signed up for it absentmindedly, at the time figuring it would be a good way to meet the people in his apartment. So far, he hadn't gone out of his way to really meet people, and he thought it was about time he get out a bit. Now, though, while he was nursing a hangover and a very heavy feeling of disappointment, he wasn't sure it was a good idea to go.

The only reason he was even getting ready for the party was due to the fact that he'd offered to help with the barbecue. And maybe a little bit because he liked the idea of getting to cook for other minus the awkward having to know each other part. He figured he'd owed it to Bert, since he'd been late with rent and payments up until he'd gotten hired at the Pink Barrel. Bert hadn't given him too hard a time, and for the first time in a while, Nick felt like he was catching a break.

Nick was definitely into layers, especially at this time of year. He was always cold if the temperature was under seventy degrees, and the party was outside in February. He grabbed a jean jacket and layered it over a solid black hoodie, grabbing black jeans and mid-calf boots. It was comfortable, but didn't look like he'd just rolled out of bed. He definitely felt like it though. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times to get it to lie flat before leaving his apartment.

He went to the roof to find Bert, and caught him in the middle of a conversation with what he assumed to be another tenant. "Hey, Bert. I'm here to help with the barbecue, or anything else you need done."

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

Nikola "Nick" Blackwell

"Can you hear me, Major Tom?"

---

---

Nick
21 ⚬ Male ⚬ Bisexual
Pink Barrel Bartender and Silvervale Resident of One Month

⚬ Appearance ⚬
If someone were told to imagine their dream guy, Nick probably would not be what they see, a fact he is all too aware of. However, while he isn’t quite the All-American dream with an easy smile, he’s not quite sore on the eyes either. Besides, beauty is only skin deep, right?

Tall and built are adjectives that have never, and probably never will, describe Nick well. At 5’6 (he likes to tell people 5’7), both women and men could quite possibly top him in height. While he has a height advantage on some people, it isn’t hard to rival him in bulk. He’s never been the type to put on muscle mass easily, something he learned the hard way after several frustrating months of constant gym sessions. His skin, consistently light no matter the month, stretches tight over tendons and lean muscle. A warning, underestimating his strength is a mistake many have made in the past and few would like to repeat.

If not his height, Nick’s most startling feature are his eyes. They are arguably his most attractive feature as well. His eyes are hooded and downturned, his irises a blue green color that contrasts with his light skin. His eyes are probably the most expressive facial feature, and the easiest way to tell what is on his mind.

His hair, curly and a dark brown that bleaches in the summer sun, tends to flop over his eyes. Most days Nick tries to straighten it out a little bit, but some days he leaves it to its own whims. On nice occasions, however, Nick tends to straighten it and push it up and back from his face.
Clothing wise, Nick’s wardrobe is pretty monochrome in color. He tends to stick to blacks, greys, navys, jewel tones, and neutral tones. The style of clothing, however, ranges depending on what he is feeling by the day.

Nick has a couple of unique and identifying characteristics, mostly tattoos and piercings. The lobes of his ears are pierced, and he tends to stick with disc shaped black stud earrings, or minimalistic black ear cuffs. On his right hand hand, on the inner side of his middle finger is the silhouette of a knight chess piece, a tribute to the countless chess games his father played with him. On his left forearm is a tattoo of a brass antique compass. A long scar runs over his abdomen, running from a couple inches below his sternum to his lower right side.

---

---

⚬ Personality ⚬
Reserved . Empathetic . Adaptable . Focused . Honest . Independent

Above all else, Nick is driven. If he sets his mind to something, very little can successfully stand in his way of him doing everything he can to achieve what he wants. The man has something to prove, a model for everything he doesn’t want to be, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take every opportunity he can to improve his life.

Formerly extremely aggressive and short-fused, Nick was prone to getting into violent and severe fights in high school. This caused him to be isolated from other students, his sole interactions being conflict. This causes him to struggle with genuine connection to other people his age presently, despite the fact he could really use a social life. He tends to be very guarded and cautious around new people until he decides how much personal information they can be trusted with. He comes off as almost overly formal with strangers, with very short answers accompanied with overcompensating politeness.
After hours spent on self-improvement, Nick is nothing like the person he used to be. Much more level-headed and reasonable, Nick has an almost charming vibe to his personality. Quick with a sharp comment or sarcastic quip with an obviously good underlying nature, it’s probably his best defense mechanism. Honest to a fault, he’d rather deflect a question or change the subject rather than lie. This can also cause him to be a little blunt, even if not trying to come off as such.

Surprisingly, the easiest way to befriend him is persistence. Those who have the best success come off as gentle and inviting, but non-threatening, almost as if they’re approaching a stray dog. After Nick warms up to people, he’s quite pleasant to be around. He relaxes much more, and becomes incredibly caring, almost like a mom-friend. He likes to bring presents to those he cares about, or take them to places to spend time with them. He has an almost puerile sense of curiosity and attitude around those he is comfortable with. He’ll do anything to please his friends, with a tendency to be pleased by receiving compliments (although he’s not quite good at that yet) or earning a laugh.

Nick refrains from public displays of anger or aggression unless there is a physical threat perceived against him or a friend. However, he is very easily flustered. An unexpected praise or comment can short-circuit his brain, which most describe as as endearing as it is humorous.

---

---

⚬ Likes/Dislikes ⚬
o. Volunteering at animal shelters
o. Cooking
o. Sweets
x. Smoking
x. Bitter food
x. Fighting

⚬ Habits ⚬
⚬ Nick loves to people watch! He particularly enjoys the subtly mundane aspect of it, such as people’s expressions.

⚬ If Nick isn’t working or studying, he’s probably at the animal shelter. In the year prior to his enrollment volunteering became less of a chore and more of a grounding presence in his life.

⚬ Nick has a terrible tendency of working himself to exhaustion. Often times he ignores his stress points to push to make more money or do better in classes.

⚬ Nick has yet to kick his smoking habit, despite his severe distaste for it. He’s always carrying at least a loose cigarette, and always has gum. (He hates mint, and likes fruit flavors.)

⚬ Another habit that has stuck with Nick from his reformation year is goal-setting and planning. He has a notebook that has the same energy as the poster’s on a middle school teacher’s wall, full of goals and dreams and phrases that inspire him or remind him of what he wants to accomplish.

⚬ Nick is a terrible over-apologizer, to the point where an apology is used as a filler between words or a preface to a statement.

⚬ Nick is very good at cooking! He loves to cook for other people, but is too gutless to offer anyone as of yet.

⚬ One of his biggest distractors stressors is the amount of time Nick spends in his head, overanalyzing and Nick spends way too much time in his head, overanalyzing and overthinking just about everything. This is one of his biggest distractors and stressors.

---

---

⚬ Background ⚬
If you looked at Nick’s family several years ago, you’d never imagine it to degrade to the state it is in now. Frankly, Nick wouldn’t have expected it either, if he’s being completely honest. He normally is.

Nick’s parents, Alessandro and Amber met near Hollywood, where they had both come to chase a dream. They first met at an art gallery, where they proceeded to argue over an art piece. They spent the day together, and by the end of the day, they thoroughly hated each other’s guts, a detail that would bring a lot of doubtful chuckles when they would tell their story. However, as fate would have it, the two were interning at the same art museum that same year. While the work up to it was slow, the two found they had more in common than they didn’t, and eventually Nick’s father won Amber over.

They married young, and their relationship, for as long as it lasted, was flawless. Outsiders would speculate that a relationship that perfect was too good to be true, that it was an act for the public and the pair fought like cats and dogs behind closed doors. They couldn’t be farther from the truth. The two were inseparable, even basing their careers off of each other. They grew in popularity in Los Angeles for their collaborative art that brought two different art styles together perfectly. Often sold in a set of three, two smaller pieces would be coupled into a large piece.

After several successful years in the art industry, Nick was conceived. Their life had been perfect so far, with a wonderful marriage and a successful career, and so they saw a kid as the next step. And for a while, Nick’s family was indistinguishable from those sickeningly happy stock photos of families that served as placeholders in picture frames. Of course, what goes up must always come down. Not even a happy family was safe from unpredictability. When Nick was nine, Alessandro was killed in an accident involving an eighteen wheeler with an intoxicated driver on the Nick’s parent’s anniversary. He’d been driving home from the florist, and in just a second’s glance away from the road he missed the moment the eighteen wheeler rounded a turn just a touch too fast.

For the first three years, Nick’s mother handled it incredibly. At least, she appeared to. Despite a lack of a college degree, she took on every job she had time for, while taking night classes to situate a better future for her and her son. She was always cheery and optimistic, but years later in retrospect Nick would wonder if it was all a wonderfully executed act.

Regardless of when it started, the signs eventually were unignorable. The empty bottles went from being stashed in drawers until trash day to being piled around tables and on countertops. On occasion Nick would return home to find a tower of bottles had rolled from the table and covered the floor in glass. The smell of smoke lingered in the house, sticking to the walls and furniture. Drugs came in and out of the house almost as often as Nick’s mother had a new man in her bed.

In the years passing came stepdads one, two, and three, each sleazier than the last. His mother eventually pulled out all the stops, leaving Nick scrambling out of the way of rough and angry house guest who misplaced their anger on Nick. All too often Nick would find his mother slumped in the living room, staring blankly at a sitcom that was playing way too loud. Even more often Nick was the one dragging her to the bathroom as she emptied the alcohol from her system only to double the amount within an hour. Nick had seven different family “friends” on speed dial, as his mother refused to allow him to call an ambulance when things got out of hand. Somewhere down the line, Amber offered him a cigarette, and by his late teens Nick was trapped.

Los Angeles claimed another person to a slummy lifestyle, and in its wake, Nick was left behind. Confused and angry, Nick spent his time getting in fights at school, and coming home and taking care of his washed-out, has-been of a mother. He worked several jobs and stashed money away, hoping to eventually get out of town. The turning point of it all was when Nick came home facing expulsion for his latest brawl to find Amber had stolen all of his money. He graduated high school and left immediately, leaving Amber in his rearview mirror.

For a period of time Nick was homeless, hopping from couch to couch and getting into shady situations all too often. However, on a stroke of luck, Nick made it on to the couch of an old friend of his father. He told him about another one of his father's friends that had grown up to become a professor at a university, somewhere in Louisiana. He got Nick in contact with him, and thus began his journey to get into college. Because of his poor high school grades and track record, Nick had closed off nearly all of his options. However, he was able to make a deal with the professor. If he could turn his life around in the following year, retake the classes he’d done poorly in online, and bolster up in community services, the professor would advocate for him and fund his first year of college.

If this wasn’t Nick’s golden opportunity, he wasn’t sure what was. Within a year he worked furiously. By day he went to counseling services to kick his drinking habit and gain some self-discipline, got back into shape, and worked to save up money for the following years of college. By night, he studied and retook classes in all areas, settling for nothing less than stellar grades. By the time the year ended, Nick had drastically reformed his habits.

Presently, Nick is not quite in the clear. While conscious that the hardest part of it all is (hopefully) over, he has little time to relax or congratulate himself. His future at Silvervale University is not guaranteed if he relapses to his violent and uncontrolled nature, or doesn’t save enough funds to keep him in college. He still struggles with a smoking habit, and could use a little help branching out and connecting with others.

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

<Snipped quote by sempis>
Yasss, omg Nikolai sounds adorableeee, I just need you to message me details about his bartending job at Pink Barrel (and hi there workmate, Ritz also waits tables there!) /things like day and time of shift, exact tasks he's usually appointed etc.
And also, the write up,

@rougeLily

Aaa tyy, he just wants to make a good life for himself. Message should be sent but if it doesn’t go through lmk :)

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

Nikola "Nick" Blackwell

"Can you hear me, Major Tom?"

---

---

Nick
21 ⚬ Male ⚬ Homosexual
Pink Barrel Bartender and Silvervale Resident of One Month

⚬ Appearance ⚬
If someone were told to imagine their dream guy, Nick probably would not be what they see, a fact he is all too aware of. However, while he isn’t quite the All-American dream with an easy smile, he’s not quite sore on the eyes either. Besides, beauty is only skin deep, right?

Tall and built are adjectives that have never, and probably never will, describe Nick well. At 5’6 (he likes to tell people 5’7), both women and men could quite possibly top him in height. While he has a height advantage on some people, it isn’t hard to rival him in bulk. He’s never been the type to put on muscle mass easily, something he learned the hard way after several frustrating months of constant gym sessions. His skin, consistently light no matter the month, stretches tight over tendons and lean muscle. A warning, underestimating his strength is a mistake many have made in the past and few would like to repeat.

If not his height, Nick’s most startling feature are his eyes. They are arguably his most attractive feature as well. His eyes are hooded and downturned, his irises a blue green color that contrasts with his light skin. His eyes are probably the most expressive facial feature, and the easiest way to tell what is on his mind.

His hair, curly and a dark brown that bleaches in the summer sun, tends to flop over his eyes. Most days Nick tries to straighten it out a little bit, but some days he leaves it to its own whims. On nice occasions, however, Nick tends to straighten it and push it up and back from his face.
Clothing wise, Nick’s wardrobe is pretty monochrome in color. He tends to stick to blacks, greys, navys, jewel tones, and neutral tones. The style of clothing, however, ranges depending on what he is feeling by the day.

Nick has a couple of unique and identifying characteristics, mostly tattoos and piercings. The lobes of his ears are pierced, and he tends to stick with disc shaped black stud earrings, or minimalistic black ear cuffs. On his right hand hand, on the inner side of his middle finger is the silhouette of a knight chess piece, a tribute to the countless chess games his father played with him. On his left forearm is a tattoo of a brass antique compass. A long scar runs over his abdomen, running from a couple inches below his sternum to his lower right side.

---

---

⚬ Personality ⚬
Reserved . Empathetic . Adaptable . Focused . Honest . Independent

Above all else, Nick is driven. If he sets his mind to something, very little can successfully stand in his way of him doing everything he can to achieve what he wants. The man has something to prove, a model for everything he doesn’t want to be, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take every opportunity he can to improve his life.

Formerly extremely aggressive and short-fused, Nick was prone to getting into violent and severe fights in high school. This caused him to be isolated from other students, his sole interactions being conflict. This causes him to struggle with genuine connection to other people his age presently, despite the fact he could really use a social life. He tends to be very guarded and cautious around new people until he decides how much personal information they can be trusted with. He comes off as almost overly formal with strangers, with very short answers accompanied with overcompensating politeness.
After hours spent on self-improvement, Nick is nothing like the person he used to be. Much more level-headed and reasonable, Nick has an almost charming vibe to his personality. Quick with a sharp comment or sarcastic quip with an obviously good underlying nature, it’s probably his best defense mechanism. Honest to a fault, he’d rather deflect a question or change the subject rather than lie. This can also cause him to be a little blunt, even if not trying to come off as such.

Surprisingly, the easiest way to befriend him is persistence. Those who have the best success come off as gentle and inviting, but non-threatening, almost as if they’re approaching a stray dog. After Nick warms up to people, he’s quite pleasant to be around. He relaxes much more, and becomes incredibly caring, almost like a mom-friend. He likes to bring presents to those he cares about, or take them to places to spend time with them. He has an almost puerile sense of curiosity and attitude around those he is comfortable with. He’ll do anything to please his friends, with a tendency to be pleased by receiving compliments (although he’s not quite good at that yet) or earning a laugh.

Nick refrains from public displays of anger or aggression unless there is a physical threat perceived against him or a friend. However, he is very easily flustered. An unexpected praise or comment can short-circuit his brain, which most describe as as endearing as it is humorous.

---

---

⚬ Likes/Dislikes ⚬
o. Volunteering at animal shelters
o. Cooking
o. Sweets
x. Smoking
x. Bitter food
x. Fighting

⚬ Habits ⚬
⚬ Nick loves to people watch! He particularly enjoys the subtly mundane aspect of it, such as people’s expressions.

⚬ If Nick isn’t working or studying, he’s probably at the animal shelter. In the year prior to his enrollment volunteering became less of a chore and more of a grounding presence in his life.

⚬ Nick has a terrible tendency of working himself to exhaustion. Often times he ignores his stress points to push to make more money or do better in classes.

⚬ Nick has yet to kick his smoking habit, despite his severe distaste for it. He’s always carrying at least a loose cigarette, and always has gum. (He hates mint, and likes fruit flavors.)

⚬ Another habit that has stuck with Nick from his reformation year is goal-setting and planning. He has a notebook that has the same energy as the poster’s on a middle school teacher’s wall, full of goals and dreams and phrases that inspire him or remind him of what he wants to accomplish.

⚬ Nick is a terrible over-apologizer, to the point where an apology is used as a filler between words or a preface to a statement.

⚬ Nick is very good at cooking! He loves to cook for other people, but is too gutless to offer anyone as of yet.

⚬ One of his biggest distractors stressors is the amount of time Nick spends in his head, overanalyzing and Nick spends way too much time in his head, overanalyzing and overthinking just about everything. This is one of his biggest distractors and stressors.

---

---

⚬ Background ⚬
If you looked at Nick’s family several years ago, you’d never imagine it to degrade to the state it is in now. Frankly, Nick wouldn’t have expected it either, if he’s being completely honest. He normally is.

Nick’s parents, Alessandro and Amber met near Hollywood, where they had both come to chase a dream. They first met at an art gallery, where they proceeded to argue over an art piece. They spent the day together, and by the end of the day, they thoroughly hated each other’s guts, a detail that would bring a lot of doubtful chuckles when they would tell their story. However, as fate would have it, the two were interning at the same art museum that same year. While the work up to it was slow, the two found they had more in common than they didn’t, and eventually Nick’s father won Amber over.

They married young, and their relationship, for as long as it lasted, was flawless. Outsiders would speculate that a relationship that perfect was too good to be true, that it was an act for the public and the pair fought like cats and dogs behind closed doors. They couldn’t be farther from the truth. The two were inseparable, even basing their careers off of each other. They grew in popularity in Los Angeles for their collaborative art that brought two different art styles together perfectly. Often sold in a set of three, two smaller pieces would be coupled into a large piece.

After several successful years in the art industry, Nick was conceived. Their life had been perfect so far, with a wonderful marriage and a successful career, and so they saw a kid as the next step. And for a while, Nick’s family was indistinguishable from those sickeningly happy stock photos of families that served as placeholders in picture frames. Of course, what goes up must always come down. Not even a happy family was safe from unpredictability. When Nick was nine, Alessandro was killed in an accident involving an eighteen wheeler with an intoxicated driver on the Nick’s parent’s anniversary. He’d been driving home from the florist, and in just a second’s glance away from the road he missed the moment the eighteen wheeler rounded a turn just a touch too fast.

For the first three years, Nick’s mother handled it incredibly. At least, she appeared to. Despite a lack of a college degree, she took on every job she had time for, while taking night classes to situate a better future for her and her son. She was always cheery and optimistic, but years later in retrospect Nick would wonder if it was all a wonderfully executed act.

Regardless of when it started, the signs eventually were unignorable. The empty bottles went from being stashed in drawers until trash day to being piled around tables and on countertops. On occasion Nick would return home to find a tower of bottles had rolled from the table and covered the floor in glass. The smell of smoke lingered in the house, sticking to the walls and furniture. Drugs came in and out of the house almost as often as Nick’s mother had a new man in her bed.

In the years passing came stepdads one, two, and three, each sleazier than the last. His mother eventually pulled out all the stops, leaving Nick scrambling out of the way of rough and angry house guest who misplaced their anger on Nick. All too often Nick would find his mother slumped in the living room, staring blankly at a sitcom that was playing way too loud. Even more often Nick was the one dragging her to the bathroom as she emptied the alcohol from her system only to double the amount within an hour. Nick had seven different family “friends” on speed dial, as his mother refused to allow him to call an ambulance when things got out of hand. Somewhere down the line, Amber offered him a cigarette, and by his late teens Nick was trapped.

Los Angeles claimed another person to a slummy lifestyle, and in its wake, Nick was left behind. Confused and angry, Nick spent his time getting in fights at school, and coming home and taking care of his washed-out, has-been of a mother. He worked several jobs and stashed money away, hoping to eventually get out of town. The turning point of it all was when Nick came home facing expulsion for his latest brawl to find Amber had stolen all of his money. He graduated high school and left immediately, leaving Amber in his rearview mirror.

For a period of time Nick was homeless, hopping from couch to couch and getting into shady situations all too often. However, on a stroke of luck, Nick made it on to the couch of an old friend of his father. He told him about another one of his father's friends that had grown up to become a professor at a university, somewhere in Louisiana. He got Nick in contact with him, and thus began his journey to get into college. Because of his poor high school grades and track record, Nick had closed off nearly all of his options. However, he was able to make a deal with the professor. If he could turn his life around in the following year, retake the classes he’d done poorly in online, and bolster up in community services, the professor would advocate for him and fund his first year of college.

If this wasn’t Nick’s golden opportunity, he wasn’t sure what was. Within a year he worked furiously. By day he went to counseling services to kick his drinking habit and gain some self-discipline, got back into shape, and worked to save up money for the following years of college. By night, he studied and retook classes in all areas, settling for nothing less than stellar grades. By the time the year ended, Nick had drastically reformed his habits.

Presently, Nick is not quite in the clear. While conscious that the hardest part of it all is (hopefully) over, he has little time to relax or congratulate himself. His future at Silvervale University is not guaranteed if he relapses to his violent and uncontrolled nature, or doesn’t save enough funds to keep him in college. He still struggles with a smoking habit, and could use a little help branching out and connecting with others.

@rougelily

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

I was thinking of having my guy work at the bakery/coffee shop downstairs or at Rebecca’s Hole if that’s alright with the GM?

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

@akayaofthemoon

awesome : ) does it matter if I have a guy or a girl?

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

Hey! Room for one more?

L'Mordryn Academy

Bestia Dorms ▸ Cafeteria
Interactions : @artifex (minor)

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Alistair grinned at Silas, glad he hadn't caught him in a bad mood. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

He didn't think that Silas would be the snappy morning grump type, but the early hours could change the human mind in scary ways. Last year, his roommate had been an absolute monster in the morning. While Alistair tried to be friendly to everyone at the academy, he definitely respected some weren't a fan of his energetic personality.

This year, he'd been pretty lucky to be roomed with Silas and Odhra. As far as roommates went, they weren't unpleasant to be around. They coexisted peacefully, and Alistair hoped that as the year went on they'd be able to get to know each other better. Their personalities were very similar, which definitely helped with the whole living together situation. Plus, as far as he could tell, they seemed like they would be pretty alright with a party now and later.

Already, Alistair had been asked by several students when his next party would be. Apparently he'd become well known last year for the parties he'd thrown. Since a four room dorm wasn't the best place for a big party, most of the time it was on an invitation basis only. At the end of last year though, he'd thrown a big party down by the lake. People he'd never met before had shown up, to Alistair's delight, and the party had run into the early hours of the morning.

Departing from the dorms and heading to the cafeteria, he was pleasantly greeted by the smell of breakfast. He licked his lips. He hadn't eaten much last night, his limbs feeling like lead, and even looking at food making him feel sick to his stomach. He'd gone to dinner in hopes of shaking the dread that felt as if the sky was about to fall. It had been in vain, and after forcing smiles for the better part of half an hour, he'd given up. He had ended up slinking back to his dorm under the excuse of not having had enough sleep the night before. He could feel his throat closing up even as he burrowed deep into his covers and his cats settled around and on him. He'd contemplating going to the roof, but was too tired to even think about getting out of bed.

Alistair hated the days that made him feel like chains were wrapped around him too tight, squeezing the air out of him. For the most part, he tried to ignore it, but last night had been undeniably low for him. His stomach growled, snapping him from his thoughts. Food might not have been on his mind last night, but now, eating seemed like a great idea.

He moved through the line of food at his leisure, a pile of food stacked onto his plate precariously. Even if he hadn't eaten in a while, Alistair's appetite was insatiable. If there were a competitive eating club at L'Mordryn, Alistair could probably have everyone at the academy beat. But, there wasn't, so Alistair put the knowledge he learned from years under the heel of the Blackwells to use in culinary club. He'd imagined that years in servitude would ruin mundane housekeeping tasks for him, but last year, his first year at L'Mordryn, he found comfort in tasks he knew he executed well.

Dangerously balancing two plates in his hands and a drink in the crook of his arm, Alistair navigated his way over to a free table. He set his plates down first, sipping his coffee, if you could even call it that. Alistair's 'coffee' was practically milk with a couple shots of coffee. He hated the bitter taste, but could use the small boost of energy in the morning to get him going. It was better for him to not have too much caffeine, unless he wanted to be bouncing off the walls all day. Settling in to his seat with forty five minutes left until his first class, he was already making quick work of his breakfast.

Phantasma Dorms ▸ Cafeteria

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As Ives exited the bathroom, Gambino was already waiting outside. He sat stiffly, staring intensely at the door. Upon seeing his summoner, Ives could almost swear he was staring daggers at him. When he'd first woken up, Gambino was still asleep on his bed, and Ives had elected to not wake him up. Obviously, Gambino didn't appreciate the sentiment, evident in the subtle concern in Gambino's red eyes.

While Gambino wasn't a fan of other people, he clearly adored Ives. His frustration at being left in Ives' room didn't come from a need for reassurance, it was more caused by worry. Ives had been up late the past couple of nights despite Gambino's attempts to get him to rest more. In a way, they both took care of each other, both needed each other in the way that a child needed a mother's attention. While their relationship was far from desirable at the beginning, they'd come a long way. Gambino was the one being that Ives could really let himself relax around, finding it almost easier to drop the formalities around him.

Ives scandalized Gambino with a rough rumple on his head, knocking his horn-like ears back and forth. "No late night tonight if I can help it. For now, let's get to breakfast and do something about that scowl of yours."

Satisfied with his appearance, Ives moved around Gambino, throwing an almost cheeky half-smile over his shoulder, as if asking him what was taking him so long. Ives was a naturally fast walker, so the commute to the cafeteria didn't take long. As he always did, Ives was aware of the berth the students gave him and Gambino. It was ill-founded, as even though Gambino had a short temper and a dislike for strangers, Ives had trained the habit of snapping at people out of him as soon as he trained the habit of chewing on him out of him. He wrinkled his nose subconsciously at the people who muttered at Gambino. Gambino couldn't seem to care less as he took advantage of the extra space, letting his long limbs stretch properly.

Breakfast for Ives was light as usual. He stacked a pair of waffles with syrup and tossed a couple pieces of sausage to Gambino. Gambino didn't need to eat, but enjoyed participating with Ives. Besides, he seemed to like the taste of sausage. He grabbed a bowl of yogurt topped with granola, strawberries, blueberries, and sliced bananas, and a cup of black coffee. He picked out a table towards the side of the room away from most of the foot traffic.

L'Mordryn Academy

Room 1, Floor 6, House Bestia Tower

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Alistair could be described as nothing other than a corpse when he slept. Strategically, he had 2 alarms set on his clock on weekdays. One at 6:30, the other at 6:35, both of which he'd hit snooze on an average of 3 times before he woke for the day. He was definitely not a pretty sight when he woke up, his thick brown hair looking more like a rug than anything else. On this morning, he'd forgot to set his alarms the night before. He'd only woken up because of one of the cats had found his face the perfect place to lay on. Unable to breathe, and his mouth getting clogged with thick tabby orange fur, he attempted to pull the cat from his face. Claws latched into his skin, and he yelped, finally dislodging the feline and sending it back to his realm.

With a bit of morning grumpiness he muttered something about never letting his summons sleep in his room, but there was no real threat behind his words. On the nights that memories of his past wormed their way into his dreams, the cats helped him to sleep. Often, he didn't have to command them to comfort him, most of them were more than happy to keep him settled through the night. He didn't show it much, even in the privateness of his room, but he was grateful for the cats that laid on and around him.

He grabbed a couple of clothes and stumbled over to the bathroom, his hurried attempts to get to breakfast before the best of the food was picked over sacrificing his gracefulness. He managed to trip over a pile of books and stub his toe on the leg of his desk before he made it to the bathroom, thankfully in one piece. A wide toothed comb did little for his hair except take out the knots and make it lie a little flatter, giving his mop of hair its trademark 'messy in its own charming way' look it had every day. He grabbed his bundle of clothes, pulling off his night shirt, his movements slowing as his eyes fell on his scar. He turned around and looked over his shoulder to see if it looked any better than it had yesterday, but as usual, the skin was still pale and irreparable. He scowled, even after years since the incident he never got used to the look. He pulled his shirt over his head and rounded the corner to get to the cafeteria, nearly running down one of his roommates, Silas, in the process. He just barely pulled up short in time.

"Shoot, sorry man. I didn't see you there."

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Some Room, Some Floor (TBD), Phantasma Tower

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Ives awoke with a dull ache in his head. He blinked sleep from his eyes, blearily sitting up but stopped when the movement shot discomfort up his spine. His back had an awful crick in it, but he expected as much from sleeping upright. He'd fallen asleep on his books again, and his glasses had been pushed up his forehead, leaving ridiculous pressure indents in his skin.

No matter how late he stayed up the night before, Ives woke up at the same time of day every morning, at 6:45. Today was no exception, despite his estimates that he'd been up past midnight the prior night. He always promised himself that he'd drop the habit of staying up late to study, but he never really bothered with trying. One way or another, he'd make his family wish they wanted him when they had him.

There were noticeably no pictures in Ives' room, and there were very few objects of sentimental value. It didn't take someone to know Ives personally to conclude this, his room was barren except for school books, and tons of sketchbooks, canvases, and art mediums lined neatly by his bed. Some were full, others blank. Several of his paintings were stored on his bed, and a vanitas he'd painted were hung up on the wall. He was particularly fond of the one he'd done of the skull with red and white wilted roses growing out of it resting atop an overflowing chest of gold. Most who saw it would poke fun at Ives for it, calling him edgy or depressive.

Ives went to his wardrobe, grabbing a navy collared shirt and a black pair of jeans. Ives was careful to check no one was in the hall when he slipped into the bathroom, he was certainly far from presentable at the moment. His hair, washed the night before as it always was, no longer had gel to hold it back from his face. Jet strands hung over his eyes, which had pronounced dark circles under them. He changed into his shirt, making sure the collar was properly folded, and washed his face. The cold water certainly helped to wake him up and took care of the pressure indents. He slicked back his hair and grabbed his glasses, getting ready to leave for breakfast.

The Safe Haven - Revival (Closed)

i'm still here, just waiting to see if this picks up a little. hopefully it does, since I'm a sucker for magic type schools.