The real question was why was she attempting to get a hot, caffeinated beverage in such heat? Well, Callie wouldn't able to survive the California streets without something in her body. Yes, she was addicted to the sweet taste of the coffee beans; a consumer spending hundreds of dollars on little Styrofoam cups filled with the steamy beverage. Sometimes though, Callie would "shake it up" and buy an iced coffee but all the same she needed it to get through her day.

Flashy was Callie's specialty, between the off-white flats decorated with a vibrant pink bow, or the way she held herself hips swaying as she walked purse dangling from her shoulder. Callie was basically always showy. Her eyes set on the goal, a coffee shop at the end of the corner. There was just a small issue with such an idea, it was so humid. The thickness in the air created a fog over the side walk making it very difficult to walk such a distance. The ring of a bell was the only thing she heard having some peace of mind when the click was drowned out by the sound of coffee being brewed.

Um, hello?" she said to the person, unsure what to really say to people standing behind the counter. She had been there millions of times before though she always found ordering an awkward phenomenon.

The person stared at her confused at why she hadn't already ordered after staring at him for a matter of two minutes. "What would you like to order?" he asked incompetent to the idea she was scared to speak to him. Shrugging she looked down for a second then up at the menu.

May I have a medium coffee? Extra sugar and extra cream in it please." she said with a smile beginning to play with her hair. Twirling it Callie waited patiently for the man to give her the coffee. Upon handing it to her she quickly rushed out of the door. With the click of her heels no longer bothering her, and the ring of the door she was gone and in the heat of the day again. She was your basic college student, running on her parents' money and partying whenever she got a chance. Her parents were well out of the picture, she was irresponsible as ever and wanting a big break.

She was good at looking pretty and she was quite the show person about it. Sure, she seemed shy quite frequently but when she was in the spotlight she was all that and wasn't about to return. She'd feel better than you and know she was too. It gave her an adrenaline rush that she absolutely adored. She knew she it was her passion in life, to become famous. Her degree was in performing whether it is singing, instrumental, or acting. Everything.

Walking back to her apartment, Callie cradled the coffee happily. She was in her own world at the moment walking about with her head high and confidence up.
Written by Ninaxdots.

Something wet and slimy made its way up Caroline Hayes' face as she slept. She batted it away, and rolled over to try and get a few minutes more sleep. And then she realized that something wet and slimy was on her face, and her dark eyes opened in shock and fear, her small body tensing up. "Oh, it's you," Caroline mumbled in relief, relaxing as she wiped her slimed face with her duvet. She gave the eyeless woman with the inordinately long tongue a shove in an effort to get her off the 14-year-old's bed. "Go away, you're getting maggots all over my bed sheets, it's horrible." The woman-thing slunk off to hide in the shadows behind Caroline's curtains, holding the maggot-infested wound on its bloated belly with one of the blade-like protrusions it had in place of hands.

Caroline, too, got out of bed, and went to see if the girl with the bleeding face and fingers that she had discovered the night before had gotten out of her shower yet. She hadn't, so Caroline had to settle for brushing the tangles out of her long dark hair without washing it. There was something nasty standing behind her in the mirror, but she did her best to ignore it. She'd have to talk to someone about that shower issue. Maybe request a room change.

She got dressed as quickly as possible, while eyes popped open on the walls of her room, watching her every move. The uniform was still stiff and uncomfortable, and wearing a skirt was a brand-new experience. And her tie was such a gross red-brown colour. Like some kind of bloodstain. After tidying her room and brushing her teeth, Caroline's stomach was growling quite insistently, which meant it was time for breakfast, so she left her room and the various nasties in there and started heading downstairs.

About halfway down the stairs she stopped in her tracks, swaying slightly on the spot. Her vision hazed over. It transitioned quickly past the mist-with-worrying-dark-shapes-in, through red-and-don't-look-too-close, and nasty-horrible-monsters-everywhere, leaving Caroline seeing the plane that she disliked the most: the one where everything was the same as the normal one. Except that everyone's faces were distorted, or cruel, or reptilian, or bird-like, or any number of unpleasant things. Well, at least she would be able to make it to the canteen without tripping over.
Written by Guttersvoice.

It was a brand new day.

Everything was going spectacularly and nothing had been tinged with mold so far--nothing spoiled. It was absolutely wonderful! What could go wrong? Nothing, he was positively sure that nothing could go wrong. Nothing would go wrong as far as he's concerned. He needed a second, in fact, to catch his breath from this wonderful discovery. This had never happened before, and should be celebrated with the utmost amount of joy!

But, there's just one little problem with his theory. Today was not that day that he dreamed of. In fact, it was one of the worst days of his life; that was nothing out of the ordinary, even, and he brushed it by with a grudging shrug of his lightly-furred shoulder. Though he could marvel at one thing about himself and his relationship with fate.

Oliver had to admit that he was dressed well today. No strange clumps of whatever clinging to his underbelly, no excessively infested-with-oozing-puss cuts and scrapes showing, and his tawny eyes were rid of the dull gloss of late morning snoozes. He had to admit that today he looked dashing.

His eyes, however, were bright with something that he was familiar with, or, recognized, if he hadn't familiarized himself with it yet in his distractions with hating the world. Snorting with discontent, the silver-coloured male continued to stalk through the lands, bristling with irritation. His mind was working wonders, for he was a bright canine, though working endlessly around the dark subject of how messed up everything was. How messed up everything is.

It was plain to see the evil within the wolf, his dark thoughts of everything around him. Any being with half a brain could see that the world was purely insane; Oliver's thoughts revolved around this. He couldn't believe how filthy everything was, how unclean and unsanitary everyone was. He couldn't believe the lies everyone was sputtering out, even on their deathbeds. It was all absolutely putrid, and he was part of it, regrettably.

He wasn't quite aware of his surroundings, and not looking in particular to what was around him from his leveled gaze and lowered neck, parallel to his pointed shoulder blades. Tufts of light silver, tipped with a dark ebony, undulated on the nape of his neck and back, or, what seemed to be left of a thick neck. No, he was not aged in any way. Oliver was merely the unfortunate result of poor breeding, great thanks to his parents for that. He was a lean creature, with a level underbelly and no particular thickness in build in any show of muscle nor mass in any way.

But, mass in what? Not just bone mass, skin mass, the mass of the atoms that he was made up of, but mass that consisted heavily of a growing sense of darkness. Oliver groaned to himself, lifting his mottled gray paws off the filth of the ground quickly as he padded, not very silently, on the path that the unforgiving trails of fate led him on.
Written by Justsayagii.

A few scuffs were the only sound that came from the large building, continuously cycling in a rapid rhythm to accent the maker's anxiousness. There was absolutely no doubt of his nervous pulse, running fast and jumping up and down his thin neck. It wasn't often that he got like this, however in situations so dire, there was really no excuse for not being stressed.

Oh, but was there any doubt of his talents?

Milky gray eyes continued their purpose-less stare at the patterns of ivory marble, elegantly carved into the floors he now strut upon so recklessly. He was sure his ankles had worn themselves into nothingness, bow-legged strides becoming more even. And so it was, like clockwork, did the candle-maker turn his pale-faced head, wiry locks of silver hair undulating at the sudden pivot of his skull, bangs peeking from the ridiculously tall ebony top hat atop his round skull, nearly as long as his six-foot-four body.

Well then, that pile of mushed out candle wax would just have to suffice for the time being. A reminder ticked on the curved windows, elegantly bound to what seemed to be almost Victorian-like, though with a little more spook to their frames. The reminder was very persistent, for it tapped again, ensuing a dull scowl from the wiry man's face. Dusted, ghost-like lips pursed together, bringing a calloused, long-fingered hand up to his chin, side-glancing at the window dripping with liquid reminders. The rain was persistent this evening.

Hmm," his monotonous voice breathed after a moment of staring at the -blocked- The male's scuffing of the garish yellow suede shoes came to a halt at last, shrinking into softer taps as he made his way towards a massive desk. The large room the man now situated himself in was lit by only one source, which was the thirteen-foot torch-like candle sitting atop the carved, wooden desk. The man swiftly seated himself upon the velvet chair, reaching behind him to prevent sitting upon the billowing v-shaped tails of his tuxedo, matching the garishly-hued yellow shoes he wore upon his tiny feet.

Claw-like hands reached over, grabbing the mound of wax that sat molding away to his left. Scooping up a fist full of the cold stuff, he began to his work, swiftly and accurately shaping the ball into what looked like a flying finch. Bringing it to his lips, a wicked smile prodding at his cheeks, the candle man released a whisper of breath onto the creature, watching it shudder and release a small chirrup of noise. A grin stretched across his ghostly face.

Now, my little bird. You shall fly," he whispered to it, brows raising as its eyes, beady and illuminated with the flame of a candle, stared back at him with a certain knowing. Of course, the time had come to assemble, and he would be the first to let the news be heard. Or, so did Enoch Horace the Ninth think.
Written by Justsayagii.

Eight abnormally long toes wriggled uncomfortably in an ill-fitting pair of shoes that they were evidently unused to; thin shoulders shifted under a heavy jacket. The few small areas of skin that were not hidden under clothing or in the shadow of a navy blue baseball cap were extraordinarily pale, as if the young man had been bleached white.

No, it was more like the white of bones. The mop of hair that poked out around the edges of the cap was the same paper white, cut in the scruffy manner that many teenage boys sported these days. It was clear that the young man had done his best to hide his inhuman nature, despite the fact that there were several improvements that could have improved his 'I am definitely a human' disguise.

For a start, he could have worn gloves, to cover even more of that pale skin, not to mention the fact that his fingernails were stained slightly lavender, rather than a more natural pink. Although perhaps it was a little warm for gloves, he was clearly trying to hide his abnormalities, and they would have been useful.

Sunglasses might have helped, too, because despite the baseball cap doing its best to keep his face in shadow, it was still pretty tricky to hide those deep blue-purple eyes, the colour leaking out of the iris and into the pupil and sclera, giving him an odd, almost bird-like look.

Perhaps even some lipstick might have helped; as feminine as it might seem, a plain, neutral shade would serve quite nicely to cover up his lips. Like his fingernails, they had a definite lavender shade to them.

And even without all that, he could have at least remembered to keep his inner monologue as 'inner' as possible. As it was, he was mouthing words to himself, muttered complaints that very much displayed his double rows of needle-like, silvery teeth.

Stupid Prussian, why's he always sending me to get stuff? He's so mean, and it's not even as if he's the oldest, 'cause if you're counting who's been awake longest, it's me, if I am a couple hundred years younger than him agewise, and Treuse and Ridi are older than him anyway, and it's not even as if I'm the youngest, and sending Sienna would be more sensible, at least she blends in better than the rest of us, but nooo, Pruss has to be all 'send Indigo, he's got nothing better to do' and actually I have plenty of better things..." Indigo continued to blather incessantly as he mooched down the street in the direction of the nearest gas station, plastic bag full of groceries hitting his leg with each step, muttering something along the lines of 'might as well get a snack while I'm out'.
Written by Guttersvoice.

She remembered her high school years vividly, looking back on it from there life went downhill. My goodness her pact with her friends was tight yet it was ripped apart by college. Emma herself moved to New York City. Yes, she was a big city girl who grew up in a small town. Her heart was always much too big for the little place and her dreams would never be accomplished there. She had always dreamed of Broadway and wouldn't stop anything short of it.

Attending Julliard had been very hard on her parents; they struggled to allow her to stay as well as pay for the massive tuition. It had all paid off though. Emma got on Broadway, she had been performing in plays as small parts but still got pay working in a coffee shop as a side job. It wasn't much income but it was Emma's dreams. Now, one day at the coffee shop that "man" came in, he was the one for her. Or so Emma would have thought, they lived together and were both performers, in the big apple for identical reasons.

After nearly a year of being together they were married and rushing it Emma convinced her dream man they should have a child. That's how Camille came into the picture, they were both extremely happy but alone with the recession came stress, as well as a young daughter. No one really had money to see the expensive shows so Emma's husband was laid off. With this came more annoyance and then a child screaming all the time wasn't something he was willing to deal with. He left feeling as though he had let the family down and refused to keep contact with Emma only to send a check to her once a year.

Camille and Emma were more than happy together, they shared a two room loft in the heart of the New York, Emma working for any acting program she would come upon. Cleaning up the house though in order to move Camille into a bed rather than a crib was when she came upon these tapes: her friends and her. Emma became obsessed over the idea of seeing her friends again, seeing the change in them, wondering what they were like. Her and her daughter had to go back there even though Emma's parents were relocated since she moved. Pushing a tape into the VCR one mast time Emma knew what she had to do.

Camille! Pack some toys!" she screamed to the three year old, rushing through the house putting many things into a suitcase.

Where are we going mommy?" she said, tugging at her dress. Now Camille was a complete diva, she loved attention and would do anything to get it.

We're going to see where mommy grew up. We'll be spending a week there." She said rushing through her drawers getting enough clothes together then moving to Camille's room grabbing garments by the arm full. Brightly colored and decorated in floral patterns. Camille on the other hand had been packing her favorite dolls, a couple stuffed animals and her favorite of all: Sunglasses.

After hours of making phone calls and packing Emma was ready. "Come on Camille!" she said happy to get away from this big town for a bit, yes she absolutely adored the environment but it was time for her to see home again. She shoved everything in the car with a cooler full of snacks as well. Her in the driver seat, Camille in her car seat in the back and they were off. Two meals, a lot of boredom and whining, and a nap later and they were there, in the middle of nowhere Massachusetts.

Pulling into a little coffee shop Emma remembered quite well she got out then pulled Camille out, they needed a potty break and a snack before going to find a hotel again. With a double beep from the car it was locked and she was walking into the door talking a small table by a window not really sure of what to make of the people inside.
Written by Ninaxdots.

The water rippled on and off with the occasional wave rising into the air and then crashing harshly down onto the shore. The sun set high in the sky, resting easily on two plump, fluffy clouds. The trees had seemed to just bloom an hour ago from the drastic change from winter to spring. Pink petals had burst from the twigs sprouting off of the many branches. At this point, they were wide open to reveal the powdery yellow center with the few antennas sticking firmly with the occasional Mothim fluttering by to pollinate it.

Feet padded against the damp sand, practically being absorbed into the soon to be mud. Lugging behind faithfully was a Feebas, supposedly the ugliest of all pokemon. The boy could not comprehend this and actually found Chatial to be quite, well, there wasn't really a word he could use to describe it. But whatever it would've been, it'd be a compliment. The Feebas swished her blue tail rapidly trying to keep up with Niko, the back fin hardly hovering over the surface, only to keep her wide eyes laid upon the boy, thick, black circles surrounding them. Overall, the sandy brown and the darker shade mixed together with the rest of the fish made Chatial quite unique.

Finally Niko squatted down and pulled out an indigo pokeblock from his pocket and juggled it in his hand. Chatail's face twisted in pure joy as she surfaced her mouth wide open seeming to beg for it. A light smirk rested firmly on his lips as he giggled softly. You really want it that badly?" he asked acknowledging how much he was torturing her. Once she closed her lips, it was almost as if she was pursing her lips, but the subtle glare was easy to notice. He chuckled again and threw the pokeblock into the sea, and within a few seconds, there wasn't a fish in sight. A few minutes passed and Chatial slowly loomed into view, exhaling harshly.

Niko couldn't help but continuing to chuckle and a glare drew across the Feebas' face. He knew how hungry she got after his return from school. Quickly she gulped in a lungful of water and rose to the surface and squirted a steady stream of water at him, flattening his black hair, leaving it completely damp. Practically sobbing wet, gradually dripping down to his suit. Gently he squeezed his hair with a rough churn of his hands, and swished shook his head and smoother it down to avoid it being spiked up. "Real funny," he murmured, knowing he couldn't throw sand and completely tick her off. So the odds were against him. He softened his scarlet eyes and returned to his dull ex'pression, a combination of half-way open eyes and a lazy frown, this time fully sitting. He dressed almost like a business man, the combination of a white blouse tucked underneath a black suit with a checkered black and white tie, completed with black slacks and dress shoes.

Niko couldn't help but notice that his backpack kept on slipping down as he stroked his hand over the Feebas' back. Then he remember the text books that was weighing it down, he had a lot of home work to do. Luckily for him, his family was practically owned a tycoon for a house so that they could afford a tank big enough for Chatial with the right filtration of salt water. They had also learned that they could remain out of the water for a period of time, enough time to constantly transport her from the sea when he has to catch the bus so that she doesn't get bored during the day, and then back to the house where they could do whatever with air conditioning. "All right, come on," he said reaching down and picking her slippery body up and dragging her home.
Written by Pineluff.