forum And I’ve Been Listening To Songs When All I Wanna Do Is Write (small group) (several vampires will be harmed in the making of this roleplay) (probably closed)

Started August 24, 2023 by Deleted user

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Something was wrong in Autumntown. Things were whispered from all around the hills, mountains, and valleys, sinister things that Autumntown wanted no part in. Yet there had been three murders in the past six months, more than had ever happened in over a century. The story, as it went, was that in the early 1900s, someone took out half the town’s population (notably including but not limited to the large population of cattle they had) and decimated their agriculture in an attempt to purge some evil, and as the tale went, they did. It wasn’t talked about much, that was the majority of the details that anyone knew except for the town elders, who spoke little of the incident. But sometimes, Granny Mayhem (the old woman who ran the general store with her now deceased husband and six daughters and their husbands, none of whom had been able to carry children) would get a strange look in her eye. Then, she’d turn away and go to bed muttering strange things about omens and portents of bad luck, bad fortune and bad beginnings. The Mayhem name was the pride of the town, three families could trace their roots to Granny’s mother and father and their twenty children, of which Granny was the youngest and only other of two who had survived the culling and managed to have a few young sprogs marry into other farm families.

None of which was concerning Claudia as they made their way to school for the first time in two weeks. The year had begun four weeks ago, and they’d been in and out of town trying to keep a low profile. Autumntown didn’t need a reason to suspect them for the murders. They opened their phone and put on a shitty hyperpop playlist that normally they wouldn’t be caught dead listening to. But things weren’t normal, were they?

They eventually got there five minutes too late, a new kind of early for them. Class had barely started, and they were able to sign in with the begrudging secretary giving them the stink eye all as they filled out the schools sign-in sheet. Claudia ruffled their curls, which were currently a violent neon green braided into a frohawk with a deathhawk style twist, and went not to class but to the bathroom to fix their eyeliner.

When they actually got to class, they didn’t say anything to Mrs. Cunningham or the rest of their Art class. They sat silently next to Samantha, who didn’t make eye contact with them but looked to be fixated on a sheet of paper with something printed onto it in small type that Claudia couldn’t read. Dyslexia was, in fact, a bitch.

Cunningham was one of the more accepting teachers of this school, as well as the only woman married to a trans man in town. Not that there were any other middle aged women with buzzcuts married to middle aged trans men who owned a Yorkie in this town. Not that there were any other trans men for that matter. She walked to Claudia’s desk, passing them a sheet with larger print in easy on the eyes type that Claudia could actually bother to read. Not that they would bother, Cunningham was still a bitch to be quite honest. She was an eccentric and an artist and liked comics, all normally interesting qualities that were boring as hell on a teacher.

But then Samantha whispered something to them, a something that intrigued Claudia quite a bit in a way they’d never admit even to themself.

“Cunningham wants to start a creative writing club. She’s been passing out flyers for it to each class and asked me to ask you to join.” she said, making an odd face. It almost seemed like Samantha cared about this idea.

“Fuck would I care about that?” Claudia asked, making a disgusted expression that crinkled at the corners of their eyes.

“Please? It sounds fun, we never do anything fun.”

“I took you out on my bike last week.” Claudia said, frowning.

Samantha sighed. “Fun for me. I like Cunningham, ok? And we do well in her class, she likes you a lot, and she’s going to bring snacks. Can we go to one meeting?” her eyes were puppy-dogging hard, and Claudia never really said no to Samantha.

“Fine.” they said, “but I won’t like it. I hate all that nerd shit. She’ll probably have us journaling our fee-fees like some fucking therapist.” Samantha winced at that last remark.

Claudia then glanced at the paper. It was a flyer, for the creative writing club, typed especially for Claudia so they could read it. It was nice of Cunningham to type it like that, but Claudia didn’t like looking like a moron or weak in front of anyone and especially not someone who sold their soul to the great American Education Machine, Churning Out Schluckity Until We All Die Of Boredom.

(Just filler content. . . since the twin's responses are generally, as said before, going to be sparse.)

Something was wrong in Autumntown. Things were whispered from all around the hills, mountains, and valleys, sinister things that Autumntown wanted no part in. Yet there had been three murders in the past six months, more than had ever happened in over a century. The story, as it went, was that in the early 1900s, someone took out half the town’s population (notably including but not limited to the large population of cattle they had) and decimated their agriculture in an attempt to purge some evil, and as the tale went, they did. It wasn’t talked about much, that was the majority of the details that anyone knew except for the town elders, who spoke little of the incident. But sometimes, Granny Mayhem (the old woman who ran the general store with her now deceased husband and six daughters and their husbands, none of whom had been able to carry children) would get a strange look in her eye. Then, she’d turn away and go to bed muttering strange things about omens and portents of bad luck, bad fortune and bad beginnings. The Mayhem name was the pride of the town, three families could trace their roots to Granny’s mother and father and their twenty children, of which Granny was the youngest and only other of two who had survived the culling and managed to have a few young sprogs marry into other farm families. . .

---

Jih-hae and Ji-hye Iseul were, to say the least, not too pleased with the new development in their lives.

That being, actual school instead of being tutored.

Something about money being sparse and how expensive tutors were.

Their guardians had fought over that for a while, really. But their therapist kept saying, "They aren't ready to be put out into the world yet."

Suffice to say the therapist's words were disregarded, mainly, as said before, due to a lack of money. They couldn't afford a therpist.

As a matter of fact, Ji-hae and Ji-hye weren't even from Autumntown. They were from out of town, only going to school there because the school near where they lived was expensive as fuck and they couldn't afford it anymore. Their guardians would be moving there about a week after they were in the school.

They showed up early to all their classes, and chose seats next to each other in the very back of the class. When everyone showed up, they took one look at the twins who's faces were hidden behind their hair, then took a look at their coordinated outfits, and decided not to fuck with them.

The next to last class of the day was with a Mrs. Cuuningham, who taught art class.

She made a decent effort to make evryone feel welcome, including the twins, but it wasn't any use; they were just as quiet and indifferent to her as they were to everyone else, and she soon gave up.

Well, nearly. At the end of class she passed out fliers advertising the creative writing club.

The twins look at each other wordlessly, then back at the papers, seeming to come to some sort of agreement.

Our therapist would tell us to, but. . . what if we aren't welcome? We're new to the school. . . Ji-hae thinks.

Ji-hye sighs silently, knowing exactly what their sibling was thinking.

I know. . . but Miss Jami would tell us to. . . and we want to make her happy. So let's go just once, and see how it goes, he thinks.

Ji-hae blinks and nods slightly.

Salem… to put it simply. Hated Autumntown. He and his family moved here about three years ago when his father got a job. Salem missed Scotland, they would go there during the summer to visit family. He missed Seattle, where he, his mother, and his father had lived since he was a baby. He didn't miss Las Vegas, that was a hellish two years and he was glad that his father decided it wasn't the best place to raise children so he moved them. But then they moved here. And gods above, did Salem hate it here. He hated it more than the dumb school fight he got in a few years ago. He hated it more than when they moved to Las Vegas. He actually preferred Las Vegas over this shit stain of a place.

He turned 18 recently, and once he graduated, he was out of here. He was already halfway through his associates degree. It would just be a few years of college while he got his bachelors in fine arts, and continued his apprenticeship as a tattoo artist in a nearby town. Things were going well, and hopefully once he graduated this year, he'd be able to get the fuck out of autumn town. He needed to get the fuck out. He loved his dad, he loved his little sister to bits. But he wasn't staying here. He couldn't. He wanted to go out there, love who he wanted to love, be who he wanted to be. This town was too small for the dreams he had for himself. And he had MANY. He just needed to graduate.

Salem… could give maybe 1… nah. 0 fucks about the murders happening within the town. Was it bad that the murders were happening? Yes. But Salem believed firmly that the police were pigs, and if something were actually going to happen about the homicides- or rather a probably serial killer, it wasn't going to happen. The cops here were fat and lazy and Salem had never had faith in the system. Not after it failed his mother or when his father lost his job suddenly. Not when Isolde got sick and his father had to spend weeks trying to get medications and hospital bills paid. No. He hated this place. Hated it here. He wanted to go back to Scotland. Wanted to find his roots again. Besides. Isolde was living in Scotland with his grandparents. He could visit her… She had called him the other week, explaining that she was having a rough time making friends.

But- for someone who looked so intimidating, and for someone who hated this town so deeply- Salem was recognized as a fairly likeable person. Well mannered, good with kids, helped around neighborhoods, stood up for the little guys, and treated everyone fairly. He helped neighbors out, did community service, and worked with various different people. Sure, he comes off as intimidating, but in general, just had good character.

On time, as always, greeting teachers with a bright smile, or a firm handshake. He could fake appearances for all the things he needed. He could fake fighting for what he needed. He could fake being a smiling neighbor when in reality, all he was doing was trying to get the fuck out of this town. He turned in assignments on time, asked questions, put in his own thoughts and realizations. Made points across the boards, and had straight A's. Everything he needed to get out of here once he graduated. That's all he needed. A chance to get out. He had applied to various scholarships and colleges. All he had to do now was wait for this hellscape of a year to end and he could leave.

Class, as usual, went quietly for the most part. Art was his favorite, and Mrs. Cunningham was his favorite teacher. She encouraged his art, complimented the tattoos that he had designed, and had written him a letter of recommendation for college. He did well in her class, and he enjoyed it. As various students entered in late, he would simply give them a nod of acknowledgement before returning his attention to what Mrs. Cunningham had been teaching. He had already signed up for the creative writing club. Call it curiosity, call it something to do instead of dealing with a quiet house when he got home. Call it wanting to kill time and experience different types of art.

If there was one thing Raine Olivarez hated more than school, it was being late for school. Being late meant having more attention being drawn to himself, and that was the last thing he wanted or needed.

Raine had only been in Autumntown since this summer, and despite how excruciatingly boring and terrible it was, he knew that it was a far better place than the alternative: going back to his shitty excuse of a mother. And besides, at least he had Esme. Raine wasn't sure what he would do without her.

He was lost in thought as his sister Esmeralda drove him to school, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against his leg. He was up all night obsessing over the murders that had been happening in the middle-of-nowhere town he lived in. Apparently, something similar to these killings happened in the early 1900s in an attempt to purge evil from the town, but Raine didn't read too much into that; he never believed in any of that superstitious bullshit. No one seemed too concerned about the murders anyway and frankly, Raine wasn't too bothered either; but looking into them was far more interesting than doing the math homework he had due today.

Esmeralda sighed as she pulled up to the building and unlocked the car doors. She turned to her sibling with a tired smile, her eyes full of concern.
"You gotta stop pulling all-nighters like this, Cam," she said, and it took every ounce of self-control for Raine to not flinch at his deadname. "I can understand doing those around finals, but it's only been a little over a month since school started. Take it easy, okay?"

Raine nodded, forcing himself to give his sister a small smile back. "Okay."
He got out of the car and put his headphones on before glancing at his phone to check the time. He was 10 minutes late. Oh well. He quickly filled out the school's sign-in sheet before heading off to class, tugging anxiously at the sleeves of his hoodie. Even though he made sure at the beginning of the school year to come off as unapproachable and socially distant, he still hated being around other people. He could still feel the judgmental stares and hear the mocking voices talking about him from behind his back during his time at his old school. Thankfully, he had avoided interacting with other students as much as possible so far in this town. Even his teachers tended to ignore him, forgetting that he was in the same room sometimes.

His classes seemed to blur into one another as he zoned in and out. Raine didn't really care for most of his courses; he didn't see how most of them would help him with a career of being a writer anyway. The only subject, and perhaps the only teacher, he actually gave a damn about was Mrs. Cunningham's art class. She was the only teacher who was friendly to Raine despite how he looked and she didn't mind his decision to be isolated from everyone else. She seemed to enjoy the little sketches he made, whether it be a map for a world he came up with for another story idea, or just a stupid doodle he made from when he was so sleep-deprived that he saw the void physically manifest before him. She didn't give up on Raine even when his other teachers did, so he put in the effort to not give up on her class.

However, it was still a surprise when Mrs. Cunningham placed a piece of paper on his desk near the end of class, smiling knowingly. Curiously, Raine picked it up, blinking in surprise when he saw it was a flyer for a creative writing club she was starting, with a message scribbled on the bottom of it. I've seen the maps and characters you draw in class. I think you'd like this. -Mrs. Cunningham

And for the first time since school started, Raine genuinely smiled.