「 ♔ * ･ﾟ— PROPHET 」 writing dump

[parks.]

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* ･ﾟ ✦ —  ❝ standing in fire —————— i'm god of the liars ❞
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—————— ATTIRE IS MADE UP OF NOTHING BUT WIRE. THE CHOIR IS SINGING WITH PRAISES AND PHRASES THAT LET YOU ALL KNOW I'M THE BASTARD OF SATAN ———————————————————————————— 

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just a dump for all my writing needs. i'll probably store concepts / prompts / character notes / and lyrics here as well, so, uhhh, yeah. don't mind me.

[punk_waffles]

<3

[marsy]

yes i love ur writing

[sunrise skater kid.]

sits

[parks.]

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<3

[parks.]

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* ･ﾟ ✦ —  ❝ standing in fire —————— i'm god of the liars ❞
[div style="width: 390px; min-height: 100px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; color: #494941; line-height: 100%;"]
—————— ATTIRE IS MADE UP OF NOTHING BUT WIRE. THE CHOIR IS SINGING WITH PRAISES AND PHRASES THAT LET YOU ALL KNOW I'M THE BASTARD OF SATAN ———————————————————————————— 

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Parks' breath had caught in her throat upon hearing the names called for promotions. Hers wasn't, but him, that delusional shit-spewing bastard with the dumb rabbit; his was. She couldn't fucking believe it. Out of all people? Muscles tightening, the woman finds herself breaking out into a fit of choked-up coughs. What. The. Hell. A calloused hand curls itself into a fist and her face scrunches distastefully as she begins to pound at her chest in order to discontinue the rapid amount of air flow escaping her lungs. ❝ You— ❞ words, scratched like sandpaper, are cut short as Parks expells another heavy cough. ❝ —You're not fuckin' serious, are you? ❞ This had to be some kind of cruel joke that they were all in on. A cruel joke that had an intended purpose to spite her. If so, she didn't find it funny. Not in the slightest. In fact, she was pissed. More pissed than she's ever been in a while, and the feeling could probably take second place behind the time Sheo had tried to venture into her mind and pick at her thoughts, which resulted in her nearly shooting him. Probation couldn't even compare to this; being passed up once more by a person she swore she'd never let get ahead of her. But here they were, no longer equals in rank. Parks was falling behind again and she couldn't even begin to fathom it.

Her hands begin to wrap around the fabric of her pants in a death grip and her face falls, eyebrows screwing together just as her lips did. She doesn't know how to deal with this anger bubbling inside her like water in a cauldron, but she knows she won't be able to hold it in for very long. Her grip grows tighter. She wanted to hit something, anything. She wanted to feel something crack against the force of her fist and shatter like glass. ❝ Him? ❞ Parks voice breaks; something that's she's never let slip until now. ❝ He's— ❞ Fucking christ. Parks can't even form a fucking sentence. Dammit, dammit, dammit! This was so fucking fucked. She's struggling to keep what little cool she has left, fingers twitching briskly while her leg bobs up in down at a quick pace. She was sure if she didn't destroy something soon, she'd fucking explode. She couldn't stay here any longer while underneath the scrutinizing gaze of the man who rattled her entire existence. If given the chance at this very moment, she'd kill him without hesitation, but that desire was far out of Parks' reach as long as Charlie and the others were around.

Biting the inside of her cheek until the faint taste of iron invaded her senses, Parks slowly drags herself to the door that led to the exit of the casino, arms trembling at her sides. Forget killing Sheo. If she didn't leave right now, she'd probably end up killing herself. Damn. This was not a good day at all.

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❝ PARKS LEITNER ❞

[parks.]

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It's a been a while since she's done this-- using knives, that is, but Parks supposes it wouldn't hurt getting back into the routine of doing so in order to hone up on her knife-throwing skills. Fists were growing rather boring and rendered highly ineffective when facing off with someone who wielded a weapon... perhaps a cane of sorts. Plus, she didn't take much pleasure in fucking up her hands when socking people in the jaw or even punching a wall whenever she grew frustrated or angered, so much, it was no longer containable and then having to deal with shredded, bleeding knuckles and aching bones; and the scarred fleshed that covered her fingers, as well as the palm of her hands, were like badges, a token of remembrance received from the brutal battles she had subjected her poor hands to. The duration those injuries took to heal was too damn long to sit through and Parks was too much of an antsy individual to be lying around, licking her wounds like a dumb dog and wasting time she didn't have. What was worse, was that she had been slacking lately, falling behind the rest of the pack, and she wouldn't dare allow herself to let that happen anymore. Not when she had people to surpass.

With knives, although they required a great amount of precision and hand-eye coordination if you wanted to nail a target dead-on, they sure dealt a hell of a lot more damage than your bare hands did, having the ability to slice through flesh as if it were paper. And just like skin, they can cut through veins and other vital arteries in a single, yet lethal blow if you were proficient in the art of the blade and accurate when putting them to use. She had also felt this would be a good way to vent out her anger without doing anything that could potentially further compromise her position within the group-- Wherever that stood now; or causing harm to her own self. Something she's had a history of doing whenever there was no appropriate place to blow off steam after bottling it in for so long. Sheo and Charlie had both pissed her off, pushing her painfully close to her breaking point, and she's doing whatever she possibly can in order to keep her temper from unraveling into a hellish mess.

Pinning a darts playing board, stolen from the casino during after hours, to the side of an abandoned souvenir shop, Parks takes a couple of steps back from the make-shift target until she was a couple feet away from it. Calloused fingers then curl around the smooth handle of a blade as she carefully withdraws the coal-colored weapon from a worn-down pouch that sported a few tiny holes within the thin material. Sunken, sleep-deprived hues, colored a stormy grey, had glanced down at the knife for a brief examination. Still in good condition, despite its lack of usage. It could work, no problem.

Sucking in a breath of salted air, her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth in steady concentration as the woman raises the weapon up to eye-level, blade aligned with the red bullseye dotted in the center of the board. In contrast to her usual aggressive and restless nature, Parks is oddly calm and near still in movement, shallow breaths in sync with the composed beating of her heart. Along with her hand, she draws the knife back towards her ear before launching it forward in a swift motion. The blade of the knife embeds itself in the board with a gentle thud, though not quite on the intended prize, but it's much closer than she expected it to be. It's a little surprising, even for Parks, that she still maintained a good bit of accuracy when it came to throwing projectiles after the hiatus she took from using them. However, being the nit-picking perfectionist she is, it's not good enough for her to be satisfied. Nowhere near, actually. She could do better. She had to be better. Eyebrows furrowing in displeasure, the woman sighs. Time to go again.

//uhhh kinda disgusted with this post but it'll have to work ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[parks.]

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[align=center]open thread ideas

• hunting / fishing
  
• sitting over the docks watching the sunset
  
• target practice
  
• weekly tasks (?)
  
• diy stick n poke tattoos(??) she'd probably die
  
• cooking seafood or at leasting attempting to
  

[parks.]

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With the steady flow of members, both old and new faces, stumbling in, it was only sensible that they should get put to work like all the other members here in the Badlands. It would be a good way to help assist them in getting familiar with the new territory and all its common areas. They could also uncover other locations on the island that have yet to be searched, which could potentially hold resources that could benefit the group ( though that's not really what she's going for. She's more interested in the fact that she still has the authority to boss her subordinates around and wants to exercise that power ). After all, resources, especially in a harbor like this, were bound to be abundant, yet no one has quite gone searching for ones other than the obvious. They might as well take the opportunity to do it now. ❝ Hey, you fuckers. We’ve been slackin’ lately so I need you to get your asses into gear. ❞ Parks voice projects throughout the heart of the oceanside city. ❝ And keep in mind, I'm not askin’ you to, I’m tellin’ you to, so if ya’ got an issue with it, then I’m sure we can sort it out like reasonable people. ❞ tone cut like cold steel, there's a detectable edge of bristling hostility hiding in the woman’s voice, practically challenging someone to object, despite her offer of finding a rather— how might I put it.. civil solution to a problem one might have with the orders she’s given. ❝ Anyways, here's your chance to make yourself useful, and prove your sorry existence may be of some worth. ❞ That was enough to be said for now, they got the message. Now she'd wait.

[parks.]

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Unlike Miss Kit who hadn't seemed like she was capable of even sticking a pig, Parks, on the other hand, was a lethal woman, and quite undoubtedly due to her volatile temper that often got her in trouble. It didn't take much to set her off— Even a brief exchange of words could ignite the wick of her bomb-like fuse. She was born to start chaos wherever she went, and the apocalypse only made it easier. Hell, the girl's practically a walking minefield, unpredictable and all the more dangerous. You know she's there, but you're treading on thin ice,  anxiously watching everything you say in hopes of avoiding your unfortunate end at the hands of her wrath.

Huffing out a breath of impatience, Parks could feel herself growing antsy by the second, fingers twitching in anticipation down at her sides as the smoke emitted from the burning wood of the campfire invaded her nostrils. She's more than ready to bash these fucker's heads together, especially after dealing with all of this tension building up in her chest caused by recent events in the past few days. If she couldn't take out her suppressed rage on other members, then this would have to compensate for it; and she was fine with that as long as she had the chance to drive her fist through someone's skull.

And without another second wasted, Parks follows her leader down the bank in silence. Her fingers, ghosting top of the knife hidden in the back pocket of her pants, finally come to curl around the frayed handle as she falls into line beside Kit, narrowed hues analyzing the site where these bandits were holed up at; like rats. Fuck a plan if Charlie even had one. She was ready to go now. After all, Parks was never one for sticking to the script. She preferred to do things her way, which involved being a little bit more.. direct, if you will. If they wanted to waste more time going by the book instead of taking these assholes out on sight, well, she'd let them do so as they pleased, but Parks wasn't going to join them. She'd take matters into her own hands if needed. And for all Parks cared, they could sit back and watch as she did so, but she refused to allow these Bandits to live any longer than they deserved as they were already cutting it awfully close to their limit.