new storage for dars

[dars]

He heard the music long before the old, abandoned looking warehouse came into view. He could see strobe lights of pinks and purples and blues flashing through the windows, hear the crowds as they cheered.

In all his experience Lars found it strange that places like these, where people came to feel alive, were also the places where he could go by completely undetected. The risk of witnesses was laughable; he could've stabbed someone right in the middle of the dance floor and people would've convinced themselves it was all a hallucination brought on by whatever drugs they were ingesting.

Now, he was looking down on them from outside, where he'd climbed the wall. He kept his eyes peeled for a very particular person. He risked a moment to glance down at the palm-sized photo in his hands. Mid-thirties, black hair, receding hair line, beard, beer belly. Wedding ring.

He shoved the picture back into his pocket before he could overthink this. It was a job. People did bad things to others, the others hired Lars to fix it. He finally caught sight of the guy there, headed to the back of the warehouse with a young girl in tow. Lars suddenly felt less guilty about doing this to a married man.

Now was his chance. In and out, lightning fast. No one would ever know. He could kill a cheater and save an innocent girl in the process, win win. Lars circled around the roof, careful to avoid passing over any windows, and came to a rest when he finally caught site of the man and his young prize. Lars gritted his teeth, slowly sliding the window open and then dropping in as quickly as he could. His feet hit the ground and he brandished his knife, ready to kill.

He paused.

"Did you..?"

In the time it had taken him to get down, the girl had knocked the man out and began tying him to a chair.

"Um. Hi."

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

[dars]

He heard the music long before the old, abandoned looking warehouse came into view. He could see strobe lights of pinks and purples and blues flashing through the windows, hear the crowds as they cheered.

In all his experience Lars found it strange that places like these, where people came to feel alive, were also the places where he could go by completely undetected. The risk of witnesses was laughable; he could've stabbed someone right in the middle of the dance floor and people would've convinced themselves it was all a hallucination brought on by whatever drugs they were ingesting.

Now, he was looking down on them from outside, where he'd climbed the wall. He kept his eyes peeled for a very particular person. He risked a moment to glance down at the palm-sized photo in his hands. Mid-thirties, black hair, receding hair line, beard, beer belly. Wedding ring.

He shoved the picture back into his pocket before he could overthink this. It was a job. People did bad things to others, the others hired Lars to fix it. He finally caught sight of the guy there, headed to the back of the warehouse with a young girl in tow. Lars suddenly felt less guilty about doing this to a married man.

Now was his chance. In and out, lightning fast. No one would ever know. He could kill a cheater and save an innocent girl in the process, win win. Lars circled around the roof, careful to avoid passing over any windows, and came to a rest when he finally caught site of the man and his young prize. Lars gritted his teeth, slowly sliding the window open and then dropping in as quickly as he could. His feet hit the ground and he brandished his knife, ready to kill.

He paused.

"Did you..?"

In the time it had taken him to get down, the girl had knocked the man out and began tying him to a chair.

"Um. Hi."

Tom

[dars]

He heard the music long before the old, abandoned looking warehouse came into view. He could see strobe lights of pinks and purples and blues flashing through the windows, hear the crowds as they cheered.

In all his experience Lars found it strange that places like these, where people came to feel alive, were also the places where he could go by completely undetected. The risk of witnesses was laughable; he could've stabbed someone right in the middle of the dance floor and people would've convinced themselves it was all a hallucination brought on by whatever drugs they were ingesting.

Now, he was looking down on them from outside, where he'd climbed the wall. He kept his eyes peeled for a very particular person. He risked a moment to glance down at the palm-sized photo in his hands. Mid-thirties, black hair, receding hair line, beard, beer belly. Wedding ring.

He shoved the picture back into his pocket before he could overthink this. It was a job. People did bad things to others, the others hired Lars to fix it. He finally caught sight of the guy there, headed to the back of the warehouse with a young girl in tow. Lars suddenly felt less guilty about doing this to a married man.

Now was his chance. In and out, lightning fast. No one would ever know. He could kill a cheater and save an innocent girl in the process, win win. Lars circled around the roof, careful to avoid passing over any windows, and came to a rest when he finally caught site of the man and his young prize. Lars gritted his teeth, slowly sliding the window open and then dropping in as quickly as he could. His feet hit the ground and he brandished his knife, ready to kill.

He paused.

"Did you..?"

In the time it had taken him to get down, the girl had knocked the man out and began tying him to a chair.

"Um. Hi."

[dars]

MAYOR KIERAN EMBERSTATT I am an exceptionally broken thing— It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed. I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still. My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me— an exceptionally broken thing. test test test test test test test test test test test test test test

[dars]

HADES LOCHLAN I am an exceptionally broken thing— It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed. I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still. My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me— an exceptionally broken thing. test test test test test test test test test test test test test test

[dars]

wip

[dars]

wip

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.

[dars]

I am
an exceptionally broken thing—

It has always been as simple as that, one way or the other. Ruined beyond reparation, and desperately, tragically acceptant of my own fate. Be it a poverish girl with an over-worked father, or the lone rose in a field of briar and brush: I have never quite succeeded in ways a person ought to succeed.

I never built up a career so that I could live a better life, I just married my high school sweetheart, who happened to be wealthy. I never held the hands of my children when we walked through places devoid of stained glass windows and freshly cut lawns, but they grew up still.

My life has been a series of hitting the bullseye despite taking my shots in the dark, and if it might make me less human, if it might make me less of a mother or a wife, it makes me—

an exceptionally broken thing.