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QUOTE: Burn it up, or just chop it down.
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FACTION: No Information
TITLE: no shame at all
Joined: 12-July 15
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Aug 30 2015, 02:38 PM
Local Time: Jul 16 2018, 09:40 AM
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( 0.63% of total forum posts )
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Aug 3 2015, 07:47 PM
I'm mostly undead at this point. I had a couple of crazy weeks at work, which I so should have put a note up for BEFORE hand? but Fish aren't all that smart. Anywhoodles, it all kinda culminated tonight, so, supes tired, but I should be back to my perky and annoying self shortly.

Big ups to everyone for being patient with me. Posts soon. (And characters for you, Flynn <3)
Jul 14 2015, 07:26 PM
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<a href=>WEARING</a>, 713 WORDS</div></div> </div>
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INo One Ever Knows
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He was stifling, suffocating, the walls of his prison pressing ever in. They were lavish, the walls that held him, but they were walls still. The metaphorical kind, ones that didn't exist for all that they did, but that didn't make overcoming them any easier, at least not more than temporarily. That was the whole goal of tonight, at least, of any night that started like this one. Just a temporary escape. There was a fever that burned through him, a need, and without a release he knew with great certainty that his demise would come. His or someone else's. Infidelity sounded so much nicer when you were doing it for the good of someone else.<p>

And he was. Dressed in plain clothes, worn cotton that clung too tight to the breadth of his chest, dull denim that hung low on his hips, he looked like the rest of these masses. He looked dust covered and tired, like he'd seen too much - and, in all honesty, how he had. That was his truth in all of it, a truth that made the guise one free of being discovered, a piece that was genuine wrapped in all the lies.<p>

Sweat beaded on his brow, dotting the surface of his skin. Trails of dust were left behind like tears, but Noah wasn't crying. He didn't think he'd ever cried. Would have been a waste of water, if it wasn't just something to do with his pride. Women cried, weaklings wept. Tears weren't something he'd shed, especially not for a sin like this.<p>

It was cold, the sun had long ago set, but flat up against the wall, in the back of some shit-hole bar, the press of bodies acted like insulation making the space that he was in all too hot, adding to that sweat the trickled down. Lines of it running down his back, soaking the front of his shirt. Small rivulets framed by ash and dust from his temples down his neck.<p>

Heat wasn't all that was doing him, though, at least not the heat of the room around him. The heat of her mouth, the slick press of it as she worked him, down on her knees like the piece of waste she was, that made his body temperature rise. Grunting harshly, he fisted elegant fingers into unwashed and lanky hair, rolling his hips forward to buck up into her throat. This was his release, this was his relaxation, this was how he greedily drank in gulps of fresh air.<p>

Freedom was a whore's mouth.<p>

Noah should have been lost in it, that was the point of this all, lost in the feeling, lost in the fantasy of being one of these men where nothing more was needed, but she wasn't that good. He wasn't in the mood to bully or to push, he wasn't going to get off tonight by making her cry. She was okay, swallowing him down like the professional that she was, but how he wished she was better at her job.<p>

If she'd been better, his future would have been a different one. If she'd been better, fingers curling into his muscled thighs as she attempted to gain purchase, to stretch her lips to take him deeper, he'd never have found his past. As it was, Noah spotted her, a different her, someone who wasn't the whore, because he hadn't paid her for the services he'd taken.<p>

"Hey!" Those fingers shifted, closing around the whore's throat, pushing her backwards off of him, pushing her down to the floor as he took a step forward. <b>"Hey! You! Cunt!"</b> Tucking himself in with a free hand Noah took long strides in booted feet, catching up to her before reaching out, trying to grab for her elbow with the fingers that weren't spit slicked. Not because he gave a damn if some whore's spit and his come got on her. He just didn't want it to give her leave to slide away from him. <b>"Miss me?"</b> It was doubtful, the way that they'd met time and time again, but as that sharp smile of his sliced across his face, Noah silently challenged her to answer to the negative.


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Jul 13 2015, 08:54 PM
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<center><div style="width:450px;height:450px; background-image: url(;"><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><div class="title"><div style="font-family: oswald; color: #8B795E; opacity: 1; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 400; font-size: 25px; text-align:center;">NOAH</div><br><div style="line-height: 60%; text-align: center; font-weight: normal; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 0px; color: #6E6E6E;">FISH, 26, SHE/HER, EST, AIM</div></div></div></center></div></div>

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Death was supposed to make you feel alive, evading it, causing it. Fighting. Survival. These were all things which prompted your heart to pump and for adrenaline to soar. Victory, success, not this. Not something like this at all. She was crying, crying so much that snot poured out as fast as tears did, blood mingling with the mucus and turning an odd shade of pink. She'd stopped screaming, just after he'd felt the bone in her wrist crunch, funny since she'd started the moment he pushed her up against the wall, as he ripped at cloth which gave way to his fingers. This shouldn't have made him feel the way that it did, the insanity of taking a woman against her will, of forcing her to give into him, but it did, it felt amazing, empowering, never had he felt more in control - of his life - of the world.<p>

He'd been a young man then, young and reckless and he'd just found out who he was supposed to marry. She was beautiful, but cold, however with her came the possibility of position, one that his father never could have earned, nor the father that came before him. It didn't matter how long you were in the military, how hard you worked for those people who commanded you, you could only climb the ladder as far as they allowed - at least since the world crumbled. She was noble, and he had a good enough bloodline, and that was enough. It was enough to give him the possibility of being more. Noah's father thought that he was doing something good for his son. All Noah could think was that this was just another order.<p>

The American Dream was a faded fantasy, burned out like the shells of settlements around them, left in rubble and dust like the hope of the people who tried to survive in this shit heap of a world. That was all that Noah was doing, as he fell into step, as he bent to his father's will, young, considered by some to be good looking, with a good enough family and enough medals on his chest - commendations from people who'd never seen battle or given a shit about it - to make it worth her and her family's while. He was good enough, he would do, and that wouldn't do for him at all.<p>

Work was all he had left, because there certainly wasn't love in it. His career was limitless now, what with the connections that he had, and both his parents and her parents all had their eyes on the Council chair. Noah could care less, he just wanted to be in the field, he wanted to do what he was good at - and he was a damned fine soldier - but they had bigger dreams and better ideas. People died in order for him to have that seat, favors were traded and bribes made. He hated it, but he'd use it, he do something with it, they'd all see.<p>

Five years. For five years he's held the seat his family strove for and all of those goals he had, all of that righteousness has crumbled like walls that were supposed to hold against bombs. He hasn't done shit. He hasn't done anything. Noah keeps the favor of his men by going out on patrol, by acting like one of them as much as he can, but it isn't for them. It's to keep his sanity. The politics of it all is boring to him; mind numbing. This isn't a world where you fight to the death with tooth and claw, but one with poison and intrigue. He goes out into the wastes because he'll kill himself if he couldn't. Nothing has been like raping that girl when he was twenty, but one day, he'll find that rush again.



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<center><div style="margin-left: 0px;"><table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="1"><tr><td><div class="biotag">MILITANT</div></td><td><div class="biotag">THE COUNCIL</div></td></tr><tr><td><div class="biotag">MILITARY COMMANDER</div></td><td><div class="biotag">APRIL 2 (35)</div></td></tr><tr><td><div class="biotag">HETEROSEXUAL</div></td><td><div class="biotag">MICHAEL FASSBENDER</div></td></tr></table></div></center><br><br><div style="width:352px; height:262px; overflow:auto;"><div style="width:326px; font-size: 10px; text-align:justify; padding-right: 7px;">

<b>FRIENDS</b> are something that Noah has plenty of, but they don't count. No matter the smiles plastered on all the faces, the ease with which they all laugh in each others company, it's all a farce, a falsity. They're all actors on a stage, which leaves them all incapable of trusting each other. At least the smart ones. And Noah's smart. Because if you aren't, if you let yourself fall into the fantasy, you just end up dead, and Noah isn't up for that.<p>

<b>LOVERS</b> are cyclic for Noah. They go from being nonexistent, him going through long stretches of time when he's celibate to the total opposite, where he's stuffing his dick in anything he can. Slaves are a favorite, the wretches of the word, but none of them fill the void inside of him. He was faithful, for a while, in his marriage. Willing to try, to have a family, to do something good with the world. But since they discovered that she's barren, he's seen no point to sleeping with her. It isn't like he loves her. It isn't like he loves anyone at all. (Plot wise, tho, he's got a final plan - as much as you can have in this verse at least!)<p>

<b>ENEMIES</b> are exponential for this man. There are people that hate him for the right reasons, and people that hate him for the wrong ones. He tends to deal with them both the same way, either they wind up dead, or he does. And he hasn't died yet.<p>

<b>FACTION/OCCUPATION</b> Noah doesn't like a lot about his life, and he wasn't all too thrilled about his career, but for the moment it's all that matters to him. Later, as he grows into himself and into his potential, it's going to mean even more. He might actually use it for something that makes him less of the shit of the world, although I wouldn't hold your breath.


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