SO I DRIVE THE TAXI | open 200 posts, TW

dannychan · 08-24-2017, 03:50 PM

[align=center][div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify; line-height: -1%; color: black"]/trigger warnging: duplications of violence, mentions of blood, scars, ptsd flashbacks, suicidal thoughts, possible suicide attempt, blaming oneself for unpreventable actions of others. anything in underline is when kids get hurt, of the kids are mentioned after getting hurt for those who don't want to read it!!

many of jacks scars had meaning. many of them we won't be talking about today, but there are three that we will. these scars were made by bullets. one on his left bicep, one going through his stomach, and one that looked like it would go through his his lungs, but was thankfully caught by a rib bone. those were the scars that people would most often find jack staring at.

in fact, that's what dear old jack was doing now. he had his shirt off, staring at his many scars, his eyes lingering on the bullet scars for more than just a few long moments. he had been staring at them for an hour now, counting the bullet scars over and over again. "one, two, three.. one, two, three.." he mumbled.

three. that's how many people he had lost the day these scars were made. three little kids who he held so close to his heart. three kids who had called him dad simply because he said they could. three kids who had done the world good by not fighting in the war that raged through the middle east.

he could remember their names so easily. there was imaad, the youngest at four years old, a smart little boy who's mom had taught him english. then there was muhammad, the oldest of the three. he was a tough little boy who loved beef jerky for some reason. lastly, there was nadesh, the middle child who loved to dance and sing, even if she was deaf and could hear the music she sang and danced to.

he could remember the night it happened so vividly, and every now and then he would be examining his scars and the most horrible flash backs would plague his mind.

[trigger warning starts here]
at the current moment, as he ran his fingers along the billet scars, something would flash in his eyes- something fearful and regretful. something he wanted to erase.

he wanted to erase the happy music and the memory of the smiling faces of those he had loved. he wanted to erase the constant reminder that they were dead. that he couldn't have them back. he could never have them back and it was all his fault.

the music, the swaying and silly dance moves of him and nadesh dancing, the laughs of imaad and muhammad as they as best they could. this had been his happiest moment and it was torn from him when the door was kicked in and gun fire could be heard. he hadn't been quick enough. he couldn't get to his gun. he had been shot three times, and gotten knocked down.

he had pleaded with the men, sobbing as he watched them line those kids he had loved so dearly side by side on their sides. "please, god, no!" he had cried, and the bullet flew straight between imaad's eyes. he could remember the feeling of blood splattering blood against the wall behind them. he could hear muhammad screaming about how those men could never be accepted by allah, how they were fighting the wrong fight, and he could hardly hear himself begging the sfoot soldiers to kill him, don't hurt his kids-

but soon, muhammad had been shot through the eye, and was dead against the wall.

he had stared at nadesh for the longest time, years streaming down his face. he would hold up his fist, raising his thumb, index finger, and pinkie. i love you.

and then she was dead. the men would leave, knowing he would die from blood loss, if not killing himself. he had spent hours, sat on the floor and crying, the still children held to his chest. he must have passed out after that, since it was the last thing he remembered.

now, twenty years later, he stood in a ski lodge, alone and shaking in his own skin. he hated these scars, he wanted them gone, but he couldn't. so maybe.. if he wasn't alive, he wouldn't hurt anymore. maybe if he just offed himself, he wouldn't feel the pain anymore.

he would take his pistol, setting it under his chin, his teeth bared and gritting as he stared at himself in the broken mirror, until he finally just collapsed, sitting on his knees as tears fell down his cheeks, the gun still held under his chin.

[trigger warning ends here]

Gray · 08-24-2017, 06:05 PM

track
do you want ic replies?

dannychan · 08-24-2017, 06:12 PM

/ replies would be great since i mean,, jack is trying to kill himself

Gray · 08-24-2017, 06:33 PM

// I think I should let someone else post first bc 1) Gray wouldn't just go into someone's room and 2) he is. not a good person to talk Jack down at all

A. HUX · 08-24-2017, 08:15 PM

[align=center][div style="0px; width:400px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px;"]Armitage was no stranger to thoughts of suicide. He'd had them quite often, ever since he was 12 years old, when he had finally really been able to let his Father's insults sink into him. However, Armi had never let them get to him. He had always shook them off with a determined snarl and a roll of his shoulders, and he'd held up his chin and gotten through it all, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack go through with the thing he had shoved away so many times before just so he could keep going. Jack should be stronger than him. He had to be. Hux hadn't known him long, but already the other was like a Father to him, and there was no way in fuck he was letting his Dad be weaker than him.

He had been wandering through the lodge, gently dragging a hand along the wall and humming softly. He still looking rather ruffled, given that he still hadn't cleaned up from killing his Father. Still, he kind of liked looking slightly crazed. It gave him an edge he had never had before. Eventually his hand slipped into a doorway, and he looked up, realizing that it was Jack's room. Curiously, he tilted his head and pressed his ear against the door, tensing slightly when he heard crying. He didn't even bother to knock, turning the handle of the door and slipping inside, the skinny boy's footsteps so light they were barely noticeable.

He stared at Jack for a long moment, looking like a deer in headlights. He'd never had to comfort someone before. Sure, Ben had started crying after the first time they had danced together, but he hadn't really comforted the other. He had just kissed him over and over again and until finally he was giggled and smiling again. He highly doubted that would work with Jack. After a moment, it was almost as if he'd been smacked in the back of the head, his thoughts hissing at him, He can't die. You need him. Need was probably the wrong word, but he though only in absolutes, and it wasn't like he really loved Jack like a Dad. Not yet at least. Or, not yet as far as he told himself. He had a tendency to lie to himself, so he couldn't really trust his own thoughts about Jack. All he knew was that the other shouldn't have a gun under his chin.

Finally, he moved away from the door, hissing softly as he crouched down, reaching for the other's gun with narrowed blue eyes, "Dad, what the fuck?" Of course he was gonna call Jack 'Dad'. From what he remembered, the other seemed happy when he did that, and if someone was trying to kill themselves, you made them happy, right? Right. He snapped, a sharp frown on his thin lips, "You can't hurt yourself, idiot. People need you."

/I'm,, sorry this is so bad I tried

ashen · 08-24-2017, 09:23 PM

[table]

dannychan · 08-24-2017, 09:36 PM

[align=center][div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify; line-height: -1%; color: black"]jack took the longest moment to let the gun fall to the side, eyes squeezed shut as he desperately tried to stop the flashes. he wanted them to stop, but they couldn't. all he saw was [triggerwarning] their blood splattered across the walls, their tears, the gun man watching him and laughing. he looked to them, looking absolutely broken down and like he had just seen death himself.. which he technically had. "i want it to stop." he whispered shakily, looking down as another tear fell. "they're dead because i couldn't save them. they're dead! they're gone.. i couldn't do anything and it's all my fault.." he whimpered through his tears, hands raising to tangle in his white hair. [trigger warning end]

A. HUX · 08-24-2017, 10:01 PM

[align=center][div style="0px; width:400px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px;"]Frowning even more sharply as the other whimpered and trembled, he huffed and got down on his knees beside the other, gently pushing at the other's arms to try and hug him, saying in a soft, almost annoyed but also sad voice, "Jack, you've gotta snap out of it, alright? People here are counting on you, and if you kill yourself, then think about all the people you could have saved with your life. Do you want more people dying? Because you can protect them, Dad."

SIX · 08-24-2017, 11:34 PM

[align=center][table]

ashen · 08-25-2017, 02:58 AM

[table]

SO I DRIVE THE TAXI \| open 200 posts, TW
dannychan Posts:63,374 #1 08-24-2017, 03:50 PM [align=center][div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify; line-height: -1%; color: black"]/trigger warnging: duplications of violence, mentions of blood, scars, ptsd flashbacks, suicidal thoughts, possible suicide attempt, blaming oneself for unpreventable actions of others. anything in underline is when kids get hurt, of the kids are mentioned after getting hurt for those who don't want to read it!! many of jacks scars had meaning. many of them we won't be talking about today, but there are three that we will. these scars were made by bullets. one on his left bicep, one going through his stomach, and one that looked like it would go through his his lungs, but was thankfully caught by a rib bone. those were the scars that people would most often find jack staring at. in fact, that's what dear old jack was doing now. he had his shirt off, staring at his many scars, his eyes lingering on the bullet scars for more than just a few long moments. he had been staring at them for an hour now, counting the bullet scars over and over again. "one, two, three.. one, two, three.." he mumbled. three. that's how many people he had lost the day these scars were made. three little kids who he held so close to his heart. three kids who had called him dad simply because he said they could. three kids who had done the world good by not fighting in the war that raged through the middle east. he could remember their names so easily. there was imaad, the youngest at four years old, a smart little boy who's mom had taught him english. then there was muhammad, the oldest of the three. he was a tough little boy who loved beef jerky for some reason. lastly, there was nadesh, the middle child who loved to dance and sing, even if she was deaf and could hear the music she sang and danced to. he could remember the night it happened so vividly, and every now and then he would be examining his scars and the most horrible flash backs would plague his mind. [trigger warning starts here] at the current moment, as he ran his fingers along the billet scars, something would flash in his eyes- something fearful and regretful. something he wanted to erase. he wanted to erase the happy music and the memory of the smiling faces of those he had loved. he wanted to erase the constant reminder that they were dead. that he couldn't have them back. he could never have them back and it was all his fault. the music, the swaying and silly dance moves of him and nadesh dancing, the laughs of imaad and muhammad as they as best they could. this had been his happiest moment and it was torn from him when the door was kicked in and gun fire could be heard. he hadn't been quick enough. he couldn't get to his gun. he had been shot three times, and gotten knocked down. he had pleaded with the men, sobbing as he watched them line those kids he had loved so dearly side by side on their sides. "please, god, no!" he had cried, and the bullet flew straight between imaad's eyes. he could remember the feeling of blood splattering blood against the wall behind them. he could hear muhammad screaming about how those men could never be accepted by allah, how they were fighting the wrong fight, and he could hardly hear himself begging the sfoot soldiers to kill him, don't hurt his kids- but soon, muhammad had been shot through the eye, and was dead against the wall. he had stared at nadesh for the longest time, years streaming down his face. he would hold up his fist, raising his thumb, index finger, and pinkie. i love you. and then she was dead. the men would leave, knowing he would die from blood loss, if not killing himself. he had spent hours, sat on the floor and crying, the still children held to his chest. he must have passed out after that, since it was the last thing he remembered. now, twenty years later, he stood in a ski lodge, alone and shaking in his own skin. he hated these scars, he wanted them gone, but he couldn't. so maybe.. if he wasn't alive, he wouldn't hurt anymore. maybe if he just offed himself, he wouldn't feel the pain anymore. he would take his pistol, setting it under his chin, his teeth bared and gritting as he stared at himself in the broken mirror, until he finally just collapsed, sitting on his knees as tears fell down his cheeks, the gun still held under his chin. [trigger warning ends here] [align=center] ★ ──────────── {⋅. [abbr=#swiggity swooty I LOVE Hooty]❀[/abbr] .⋅} ──────────── ★ [align=center]gregory / 17 / trans male / married to legiana Reply Gray Posts:854 #2 08-24-2017, 06:05 PM track do you want ic replies? [align=center] ————IF YOU NEED ME, I'LL BE GONE———— —— i'm looking for a good time on my own, i'm all alone —— Reply dannychan Posts:63,374 #3 08-24-2017, 06:12 PM / replies would be great since i mean,, jack is trying to kill himself [align=center] ★ ──────────── {⋅. [abbr=#swiggity swooty I LOVE Hooty]❀[/abbr] .⋅} ──────────── ★ [align=center]gregory / 17 / trans male / married to legiana Reply Gray Posts:854 #4 08-24-2017, 06:33 PM // I think I should let someone else post first bc 1) Gray wouldn't just go into someone's room and 2) he is. not a good person to talk Jack down at all [align=center] ————IF YOU NEED ME, I'LL BE GONE———— —— i'm looking for a good time on my own, i'm all alone —— Reply A. HUX Posts:573 #5 08-24-2017, 08:15 PM [align=center][div style="0px; width:400px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px;"]Armitage was no stranger to thoughts of suicide. He'd had them quite often, ever since he was 12 years old, when he had finally really been able to let his Father's insults sink into him. However, Armi had never let them get to him. He had always shook them off with a determined snarl and a roll of his shoulders, and he'd held up his chin and gotten through it all, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack go through with the thing he had shoved away so many times before just so he could keep going. Jack should be stronger than him. He had to be. Hux hadn't known him long, but already the other was like a Father to him, and there was no way in fuck he was letting his Dad be weaker than him. He had been wandering through the lodge, gently dragging a hand along the wall and humming softly. He still looking rather ruffled, given that he still hadn't cleaned up from killing his Father. Still, he kind of liked looking slightly crazed. It gave him an edge he had never had before. Eventually his hand slipped into a doorway, and he looked up, realizing that it was Jack's room. Curiously, he tilted his head and pressed his ear against the door, tensing slightly when he heard crying. He didn't even bother to knock, turning the handle of the door and slipping inside, the skinny boy's footsteps so light they were barely noticeable. He stared at Jack for a long moment, looking like a deer in headlights. He'd never had to comfort someone before. Sure, Ben had started crying after the first time they had danced together, but he hadn't really comforted the other. He had just kissed him over and over again and until finally he was giggled and smiling again. He highly doubted that would work with Jack. After a moment, it was almost as if he'd been smacked in the back of the head, his thoughts hissing at him, He can't die. You need him. Need was probably the wrong word, but he though only in absolutes, and it wasn't like he really loved Jack like a Dad. Not yet at least. Or, not yet as far as he told himself. He had a tendency to lie to himself, so he couldn't really trust his own thoughts about Jack. All he knew was that the other shouldn't have a gun under his chin. Finally, he moved away from the door, hissing softly as he crouched down, reaching for the other's gun with narrowed blue eyes, "Dad, what the fuck?" Of course he was gonna call Jack 'Dad'. From what he remembered, the other seemed happy when he did that, and if someone was trying to kill themselves, you made them happy, right? Right. He snapped, a sharp frown on his thin lips, "You can't hurt yourself, idiot. People need you." /I'm,, sorry this is so bad I tried ･ﾟ★ ☾ IT WAS INSANE, THE WAY WE'D ROLL, YOU KNOW THE WORLD AT LARGE IS LIKE A LITTLE RAG DOLL. WE WERE THE BIG, BAD PITBULL. GENERAL ★ TRY TO GET OUT, BUT WE JUST KEEP STICKIN' AROUND ★ armitage mora hux \| armi, starkiller ★ cis male \| he/him ★ 15 years old \| unknown birthday ★ flintlock lodge ★ no former ranks ★ speaks in bold, always mobile OTHER ★ CUZ IT IS A VERY GOOD BAD THING WE'VE FOUND ★ fierce and smart, has a bit of a power complex ★ has army aspirations because of old stories from his father, admires soldiers fiercely ★ although he tries his best to be strong, he is actually very physically weak, and though he has good fighting skills, he is easy to pin ★ his father abused and berated him, so he is constantly holding himself to a very high standard, and is prone to panic attacks when anyone starts to tear him down APPEARANCE ★ I AM IN PAIN TO SEE THIS GO, BUT WE WERE PUTTING A HOLE IN OUR HEARTS ★ tall, pale, and skinny, he's a rather fiery redhead, and has freckles all over his face and arms and legs. he's usually seen wearing a black turtleneck, and slightly stained jeans, and cracked glasses. he has many bruises around his chest and shoulders, and usually tries to keep as covered as possible, mainly because he gets embarrassed that he was ever weakened by someone. ★ physical health: 65% PERSONALITY ★ WITH A POISON ARROW ★ determined \| introvert \| realist \| poewer-hungry \| strong ★ nervous \| hot-headed \| traumatized \| quiet ★ anxious \| sad \| lonely \| desperate ★ hard to befriend, and hard to get close to. he gets very nervous when others do get close to him, mainly because he thinks they'll hurt him ★ easily angered if his orders are challenged, and he likes being in charge ★ mental health: 55% RELATIONSHIPS ★ IT WAS DERANGED THE WAY WE'D ROLL, YOU KNOW THAT EVERYTHING AROUND WAS LIKE A LITTLE BITTY TOWN ★ homoromantic \| a bit of a loner ★ homosexual \| doesn't really have sex with anyone unless he's in love with them ★ single \| no crush \| [ 0 ] potential crushes ★ npc x npc \| generation 1 \| adopted by no one ★ trusts: no one ★ 1/2 of n/a INTERACTION ★ WE WERE THE OLD TORNADO ★ medium physically \| extremrly easy mentally \| attack in black ★ will initiate fights if angered \| will fight back fiercely, especially if cornered ★ combat trained, will be extremely hostile if threatened ★ ask to maim/capture/kill ★ peaceful/nonviolent actions can be powerplayed ★ no weapons 「 the stars lean down to kiss you, and I lie awake and miss you. 」 Reply ashen Posts:5,064 #6 08-24-2017, 09:23 PM [table]
johannes angelicus	.
//k first of all im snorting bc " Gray wouldn't just go into someone's room" gray is gonna be salty forever isnt he Johannes didn't know what to think when he heard crying. It was strange. It felt wrong to be a witness to t. And when it came from someone who he wasn't on particularly good terms with yet, he felt even more intrusive. But then, as he was passing, sparing only a glance because he'd seen the boy head in--who Johannes hadn't really had a chance to meet with yet--he saw the gun. That changed matters. Worry spiked in the dictator's mind and without caring much that someone--a fuckin kid--was already in there, he headed in, with absolutely no...plan of action, and no knowledge of why Jack was like this in this moment. Good for him. "Jack--" He paused, hearing the kid. And...nodded. "He's right." That was--maybe the only thing he could say. He didn't really know Jack; but ..it was true. They needed everyone here, and to hell if he was going to let --whatever this was--take someone's life.	Sinking fast, the weight chained to my feet No time to argue with belief I'm not alone, a thousand others dropping Faster than me
a	SIX. ✖ ✖ Because I can't make it on my own
johannes angelicus	.
This wasn't something he knew how to handle. He'd never...seen someone like this. He saw Six approach, only because he'd had to turn his head frm Jack for a moment. The lack of words affected them both, standing and watching Hux try his best. It did seem that the scene was affecting Six far more though, and Johannes felt a bit more worry--well, his worry for Jack was far from diminished. But worry was one thing he didn't have in short supply. The gun was no longer under his chin. That was good. That was very good. It was still in his reach, though, and Johannes didn't like that. He took a step closer, eyes going from the weapon to Jack's face. "Hey." He swallowed, not sure if he could really find helpful words. "..it's not your fault." He exhaled, and began to crouch, so he was actually on eye level. Hux was still there, thank god. He seemed to be taking a...more guilting approach. Which might honestly work. He didn't know. "He's right. And--and you...you're not...a bad person. I--can I--I'm going to--" He reached out for the gun, hesitant.	Sinking fast, the weight chained to my feet No time to argue with belief I'm not alone, a thousand others dropping Faster than me
« Next Oldest \| Next Newest »