Post by XI CUETLACHTLI on Dec 30, 2012 15:00:56 GMT -5
[cs=2][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px, bTable][STYLE= font: 100pt verdana; text-align: center; color: #111; margin-bottom: -5px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 5px;]HOWL[/style][STYLE=font: 10pt arial narrow; text-shadow: 1px 0px 0px #d1d1d1, 1px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, -1px 0px 0px #d1d1d1, 0px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, -1px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, 0px -1px 0px #d1d1d1; color: #111; margin-top: -35px; text-align: center;]You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to[/style]
[cs=2][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; border-top: 3px solid #111; margin-top: -10px, bTable][STYLE= font: 7pt arial; line-height: 13px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; padding: 5px;]Arnold Place was once a humble tenement, a six story apartment complex in a neighborhood two buses away from NYU. People had once lived wholesomely in it, and traces of their lives still lingered if one looked carefully. On the doorframe of one apartment, a father once marked the heights of his five-year-old daughter. Eleven house-cats and three guinea pigs were buried in the small lot in the back. The stoop out front had gum under the rail from the 70s.
A rich alumni had donated it to Mu Omega five years ago because his son, a current member of the frat, had asked him to. The old brick building had been scheduled for renovation, but these plans were left behind as the property switched hands. A few things were added to the front of the building. A curious box had been nailed to the main doorframe covered in strange runes that most would dismiss as some hipster archeology major's touch. A dark bronze plaque was also drilled into the side with serif letters spelling:
MU OMEGA INTER-COLLEGIAL RECREATIONAL HOUSE
As the saying goes, you don't eat where you poop. No one, per say, lived at Arnold place, although, they may have spent a considerable amount of time there. Cigarettes butts, candy wrappers, and a few dirty condoms now littered the cheap, flat, worn down beige carpeting of the tenements, beer and energy drink cans shoved into the corners of hallways. (You would never take your shoes off if you ever visited.) White, unmade mattresses were spread on the floor of the cave-like rooms beside dismantled hooka tentacles. Ugly, sun-yellowed Venetian blinds were drawn shut tight, and someone's father's lava lamps were plugged into the outlets of the more important rooms. The strong odor of weed and rotten garlic pizza filled the hallways of the second floor. Other floors and rooms varied in coolness, some containing many expensive devices, others pig sties reminiscent of a shanty town. For obvious reasons, the first floor was kept the cleanest and most presentable, though, it was hardly ever used. There was a plasma TV and comfortable plush furniture set up in the yellow-papered first floor lounge, but no one came to Arnold Place to sit on a couch and watch TV.
It was at night, when colored lights glowed from behind the closed shades like the eyes of strange nocturnal monster, he comes. It is easy to live in New York because there is never any snow for someone too see your pawprints in. You are a familiar face, and you are let in with a smile and a handshake. Depending on what room you were in and what room the subwoofers were in, you either heard music or a muffled banging noise. In the end, it was all white noise, Xi would think. Like refriderators. No one ever noticed what song was playing, and no one ever really cared what remix mash-up mess blasted the house. (Although, somewhere, surely, two dudes were shoving each other about whose music collection got to be plugged into the stereo.)
Xi opened the refriderator. He wasn't in the kitchen but the basement. It was strung up with christmas lights and had a hardwood floor. There was a pool table and some arcade games. Two ratty couches were strewn about with a ping-pong and fuzzball table. He held the stick like it was just a stick. He only ever came to the basement on these nights. His eyes were like an old dog's by now, lazily open, and he nodded to another bunch of people who were walking downstairs in view over the fridge's door. The noise was loud for him, and this was why he thought of refriderators. This refridgerator was packed with brown glass bottles of the house's favorite. He took two out, went pack to the pool game, and gave one to his opponent, some chick he'd never seen before.
She probably knew how to play. Who knew. It didn't matter in the end. He'd never seen her before, and he wondered what guy had invited her here.
He wasn't about to ask who she was with. Chances were, he wasn't far away because she was cute. Cute, thought the wolf.
"You can go first, Antoinette," he said, tossing her the pool stick. Then, he bit off the cap and drank some. The senior from Fordham wasn't disliked even though he'd made the basement sort of, kind of, his. [/style]
Post by Damaris Montford on Jan 8, 2013 15:22:59 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:400px;,bTable][classy=sc][classy=text]The two girls she had come with ooh'ed and ahh'd over her shoulder, offering commentary to every part of the house they explored. “So dirty!” they squealed of the carpets, “He's a creep!” one offered on a boy they passed edging through the second floor hallway. Eventually, the trio wound their way down to the basement, and had to concede that here, at least, was something worth finding. Between the ratty lights and the pool table, the stage was set for everyone's college fantasy night. Boys with hooded eyes and alluring smiles handing you a drink, letting their fingers linger over your palm. Dancing, somehow inexplicably in five inch stilettos, like a princess, like a whore. Like a princess-whore of the kingdom of extremely hot people, ruler: you.
Damaris' heels click-clack-clicked across the hardwood floor as her friends urged her on (“You're the prettiest, they won't mind,”) to grab their group a fistful of beers. Opening the fridge, Damaris held her breath and grabbed three by the bottle in each hand. Yuengling was hardly her drink of choice, but it wasn't bad either, so she hooked her index finger around a seventh, and wobbled to her feet.
Kicking the fridge door shut with one heel and barely saving herself from falling backwards onto her ass in the process, Damaris eyed the floor space between herself and the safety of her nest of friends. There were for sure some Older, Beautiful people clustered around the pool table who might object, but they seemed engrossed in their game. One of her friends, the blonde with the pug nose and the kind smile, caught her gaze and flashed her a thumbs up. Damaris sighed, and began inching her way back to them.[/classy][/classy][classy=icon][/classy][classy=notes]WORDS. 289 TAGS. xi NOTES. "i fell in love again. all things go, all things go."[/classy]
Post by XI CUETLACHTLI on Jan 10, 2013 9:16:06 GMT -5
[cs=2][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px, bTable][STYLE= font: 100pt verdana; text-align: center; color: #111; margin-bottom: -5px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 5px;]HOWL[/style][STYLE=font: 10pt arial narrow; text-shadow: 1px 0px 0px #d1d1d1, 1px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, -1px 0px 0px #d1d1d1, 0px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, -1px 1px 0px #d1d1d1, 0px -1px 0px #d1d1d1; color: #111; margin-top: -35px; text-align: center;]You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to[/style]
[cs=2][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; border-top: 3px solid #111; margin-top: -10px, bTable][STYLE= font: 7pt arial; line-height: 13px; color: #000; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; padding: 5px;]A gaggle of mini-skirts sunk into the plush couch as the first shot. Women. They liked to stick their asses out like that, didn't they. He watch her arch her back against the pool table's faux grass, before turning towards the other company. There was a whole group of them down here tonight. He didn't feel so lonely for it. Maybe there would be too many girls for Johnny, too. He wasn't so special. The Fordham kid could pick off the rest that got left behind. Girls did that, didn't they? Leave each other behind. He knew from experience, didn't he.
Having already finished his beer, now, he eyed the collection of brown bottles the brunette held from her fingers between her knees. She was pretty like the blonde, but in a more fragile kind of way.
"Hey, share a bottle with me," he suggested as the balls knocked over the table. A smile touched his lips. He wasn't an asshole yet, you know? "My limit's three and half, so I can't drink it all." They weren't exactly puppy-dog eyes, but they nearly always worked. [/style]
HIDDEN in plain sight is a modern-day supernatural noir game set in New York City and sprawling the rest of America. Magic is real, and so are angels, ghosts, gods, vampires, and witches. It doesn't matter if you believe in them, because they're coming for you either way.
( TOSKA ) - Head admin, your go-to for anything HIDDEN related
( MURK ) - Ad mod, resident cutie pie. Keep it in your pants or Toska will cut you.
( VERTIGO ) - takes no math classes.
( TSUNDERE ) - Not actually staff, but has residual staff powers from v4. Feel free to pester with questions.
SPOTLIGHT
HIDDEN's spotlights give kudos to anything awesome. It can be a character, a member, a thread, or even a cool plot!
( SPOTLIGHT ) - Lorem ipsum character stuff goes here.
( SPOTLIGHT ) - Lorem ipsum character stuff goes here.
( SPOTLIGHT ) - Lorem ipsum character stuff goes here.
CREDITS
( ORIGINAL SITE BY KATYA ) - Original site, templates, skin, ideas, and system all by Katya. Other ideas belong to their original owners
[/classy][classy=notes]WORDS. 289
