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Author: Subject: Versace
Nicole
Nicole, the most serene Augustus, crowned by Kaitlyn, great and waddling Empress, who governs New Helena and who is, by the mercy of Kaitlyn, Queen of the Lycans and the Hoes.
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[*] posted on 4-27-2008 at 09:37 PM
Versace


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Donnie
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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 03:55 AM


Donnie would have cursed if he'd been that type of guy. Would have yelled and punched something in frustration, maybe even earned the looks of a few girls from his display of masculinity. Ha, as if girls would ever look at him. He was lost and, if honest (which he was, very) he was scared too. Oh god, oh god. How had he ended up here? In some posh and fancy part of town where all the women walked around with so many bags that there hands must have hurt. Or maybe they were bags with only one little bit of cloth inside. That was a bit of a waste, wasn't it.

He frowned sadly as he looked up at the store front. Oh gosh, no, he wasn't wasn't going to let his lip tremble like that. He was a grown... no, he was still just a boy. A boy on his own for the first time and totally lost. So, yeah, he was just a tiny bit freaked out, and just a little bit upset about the whole thing. He sighed and looked at the store window, his expression confused. Versace? It sounded familiar...




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Hanna
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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 04:55 AM


Hanna's eyes ran attentively over a display of dresses at the storefront, each one the subject of her critical gaze. Her mother often rolled her eyes at her daughter whenever she took her shopping--there they'd be, in the presence of the finest clothes the world had to offer, and of course Hanna could find some minuscule flaw with every item she was presented. Hey, she was allowed to be picky. She couldn't help being a bit of a perfectionist. After determining that this dress was slightly too short, her gaze shifted over to scrutinize the next item, only to find something that certainly didn't belong. Right there, in the window, some guy, right between the too-short dress and the next one.

She stared at him through the glass, her mind working quickly behind her still critical eyes. He sure didn't look like he belonged there, standing in front of an expensive boutique. His clothing certainly didn't suggest great wealth. And he was tall. And he had a lip ring. And a scar. She probably would have been scared of someone like that had his face not betrayed something so utterly lost and afraid, almost child-like. Well, and had he not been hanging out in the marble and glass-lined store fronts of the upscale part of town. She tried to reconcile all this information in her head before she realized that she had been staring at the poor guy for quite some time now. Not exactly polite. She blushed a bit, sheepishly waving at him in apology before her mind went back to trying to figure out how the hell she was supposed to categorize him.




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Donnie
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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 05:14 AM


Perfection? So not something Donnie had ever really encountered in his life. His house? Crumbling. His household? Struggling. Scrimping and penny pinching where just little facts that you had to deal with. Not that they really cared. You didn't miss what you never had. It wasn't possible to feel bereft either, not when your parents gave you so much love and all of the promises for a better life. His parents had lived up to those promises, no matter how far fetched. They promised he'd do well in school, encouraged him to study hard and do as well as he could. Something he'd never believed himself capable of. But he'd done it, was going to college, made them proud.

He blinked a little as he saw the blonde girl in the store. Um, oh my, wow. She was... breathtaking. His eyes widened a little as he looked at her in wonder. He'd never really seen someone so beautiful. Like the frozen madonna or something. He tilted his head to the side, his lips parted just a little. Jeesh, you'd think he'd never seen a beautiful woman before. No, wait, he hadn't really. Usually one to keep his head down and avoided looking people in the face. He blushed and looked down at his feet, shuffling a little as she waved, peeking up at her from beneath his reddish-gold hair, cheeks still flaming. What did he do now?




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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 06:03 AM


Perfection, on the contrary, was everything Hanna was used to. Growing up like she had, it was hard for her not to get frustrated with the slightest of details. She'd always had the best of everything, always been the best at everything, and had always strived for the best of everything. She barely knew the meaning of of the word struggle. Everything in the world had floated right into her felicitous hands--wealth, beauty, talent, you name it, she had it. She wasn't one of those rich girls locked into a family bound by wealth and not love, either. Her parents had always treated her like the world revolved around her very feet. When her parents split it had very nearly torn her little bubble world apart, but she preferred not to even think of such things. Things beyond her control.

She watched with interest as he blushed and bowed his head, staring at her meekly like he'd just seen God, or something. She wasn't an idiot, nor was she oblivious to all of the attention she'd gotten from the opposite sex the day she hit puberty. Hanna knew she was pretty. She certainly wasn't a stranger to boys getting all flustered in her presence. But those boys were usually the chess-club types, or maybe the dorky sons of some politician at one event or another she'd been dragged to. Not guys with lip rings (she was still stuck on that damn thing) and no pocket protectors. He was attractive, too. Not her type, but she'd doubt if he didn't have other cute girls on his tail. Even if they weren't stately blondes who frequented Versace shops.

It was half in sympathy and half in agitation that she turned around and headed for the doors of the boutique. It really was pissing her off that she wasn't able to shove this guy into one of the neat little boxes in her head. She emerged onto the avenue, heels clicking on the perfectly paved pathway. "Hi. I'm sorry for staring like that, it was rude," she stated simply, offering a smile, but keeping her arms crossed over her prim white pea coat. "I'm Hanna." Okay, maybe it wasn't half in sympathy that she'd stepped out here. She looked him over again, taking in his nervous demeanor. Had she not wanted to cause him a heart attack she probably should have ignored him and just continued her shopping session.




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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 04:07 PM


Perfection was over-rated anyway. Very little in life was perfect. Donnie always believed that possession gave you nothing more than a temporary kick, just a little bit of an imitation of happiness. Well, unless you were talking about xbox. Now that was something he could get happiness. Nothing like playing Assassins Creed and Halo 3. So, yeah, maybe he was a little bit of a nerd, but not too much of one. He went outside too, sometimes. Outdoors was fun on nice days when it wasn't raining too much or really windy and cold. But maybe he should start remembering his uncanny ability to get lost next time he decided to start wandering around in an unfamiliar city, where he knew nobody, and was really intimidated by every person he saw. Too nervous to ask them for directions. Well, directions would've been useful if he known where he was going..

Well, God was a bit OTT, now wasn't it? If Donnie had truely seen God, he'd most likey have fainted and hit his head and broken his skull and fallen into a coma and woken up at the age of thirty with no memory. And, yes, he did usually tend to let his imagination run away with him sometimes. But, that just helped him most of the time, allowing him to think up more and more breath taking ideas for his art. He just zoned out completely, forgetting every other person when he panted. No longer as painfully shy and meek, when he went to that place of his imagination, he was a new person. People didn't scare him as much when he was around art, he could even speak his mind about things a little. That was a Donnie he'd like to me more often. The type of Donnie how wouldn't feel the urge to run away when the beautiful blonde girl came out of the shop.

Eyes widening a little as she actually came over to him. Oh god, what was he supposed to do? He felt his cheeks redden even further as she started talking, and seemed a little agitated. "Umm, uh, it's o-okay. I didn't m-mind." He shrugged, an action with clashed obviously with the way his voice trembled as he talked. Oh dear, he really wasn't used to talking to people, let alone stunning women who obviously had lots of time and money to spare. He winced a little at the thought, it was really mean to make assumtions about someone he didn't know. "I-I'm Donnie, and don't worry, I was staring back... oh no, I didn't mean for that to sound like a line or anything." He groaned and looked back down at the ground.




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[*] posted on 11-21-2008 at 09:22 PM


She knew that money and possessions and pretty things didn't buy happiness. At least, she knew that intellectually. In practice, maybe that line between material wealth and fulfillment was a little more blurred. When everything in the world was going to shit, it was nice to know that some things never changed, and for Hanna, that constant security came in money. Money was one thing she'd certainly never lacked, something that had certainly never troubled her. It was hard to deny what she felt when the numbers rang up on the cash register, when she felt something new and fine in her hands. It was almost like breathing a sigh of relief, therapeutic, really; a reminder that yes, the world is still turning, yes, she still had something for her little manicured hands to grip to. Everyone had their vices, yeah? At least she was taking it out on her bank account and not her body like her alcoholic of a mother.

Making assumptions about people you didn't know? Oh, she was really good at that game. Surfaces tended to reflect a lot of things, regardless of that "don't judge a book by its cover" tripe. Sure, not everything was out there on display for the world, but ever attentive to detail, in her experience the cover sure did have something to say. And his cover, though befuddling, was clearly telling her that this Donnie was not quite the most outgoing person in the world. It was hard to miss that fact when he stood there, bumbling before her. She'd once been that way, meek and quiet, though maybe not quite so... awkward. Most of that was far in the past, though. She was a cerebral person, after all, logic overpowering any nervous emotions, and it didn't take long for her to realize the influence she had over people simply due to her own surface and overcome her social issues.

She was beginning to feel some secondhand embarrassment for him. Jeez, he was clearly having a problem handling himself in her presence. Wow, that sounded condescending. Oops. She did feel bad, though, having obviously triggered some sort of anxiety. She softened visibly as her arms dropped from being tightly laced over her chest, and her smile became more genuine. "Nice to meet you, Donnie," most of the prior curtness dropping from her tone. She laughed briskly as he tried to backpedal over his little "line". "No worries. I've heard much worse." She paused briefly, again noticing how out of place he looked in the high-society street. "So is there any reason in particular you're hanging out in front of the Versace store?" Well, that was probably a bitchy thing to say, implying that he didn't belong here, but really, he didn't exactly fit the profile of a frequent Versace customer. She recalled how lost he'd looked before she'd gone and tried to give him a heart attack. Something wasn't right.




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[*] posted on 11-22-2008 at 11:23 PM


Donnie had only ever taken his frustration out one way, and one way only. Anytime he'd gotten angry at something, just couldn't stand it anymore, he'd draw, or paint. That was the way he managed to calm down. Not that he got frustrated much, very rarely actually. It just wasn't in his mentality to be that way, wasn't in his nature to get angry over things. He'd been a thoughtful and shy kid, always keeping to himself. He hadn't been the class outcast or anything. People had actually liked him, enjoyed talking to him on those rare occassions he did so. Maybe they'd just thought he'd need to come out of his shell. But that was strictly true. There wasn't a shell to come out of. He was as he was, simple as that.

No. No no no. How could you ever judge someone on how they looked? It just wasn't... nice. Then again, not many people cared about being nice nowadays. It was all about thinking for number one. That was something he couldn't do, always having someone else in mind. Even his lip piercing hadn't been for himself, not completely. His mother always wishing she'd have a child a little more edgy. He gotten the piercing to surprise her. And, though it'd been a little painful, and he'd embarrassed himself him crying a tiny bit, scared of needles, it'd been worth it. His mother being delighted, which was something most kids would envy. Donnie grew to like it, despite the fact that it gave a completely misleading impression. Maybe it'd be nice for someone to think he wasn't as shy and meek, but he couldn't live up to that. Wishful thinking.

He peeked back up at her, smiling weakly. Oh dear, he was so bad at this kind of thing, you know, talking to girl. Completely uncharted teritory for him. Not a clue as to how he was supposed to act-no, react to this. No point in acting. Even if he could somehow act as though he wasn't as much of a loser, act more like someone worth talking to, there was no point. Acting got you caught out eventually, got you in trouble when someone found out what type of person you really were. His teeth tugged gently on his lip-ring, not sure what to day. He smiled a little more. "Nice to meet you too." Woah, not one stutter. Record! "And it wasn't a line a all," he mumbled quietly. He ran a hand through his hair, one eyebrow raising a little as he looked at the store, feeling a little intimidated. "Actually, I'm lost, to be honest. I don't know where I am." He frowned again, his eyes sad. Damn! He was such a wuss.




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[*] posted on 11-23-2008 at 02:23 AM


Well, maybe judging people on how they looked wasn't "nice", but the world just didn't work that way. Besides, she was perfectly capable of being nice. When she wanted to. She wasn't spiteful, at least. She supposed she could be a bitch sometimes, but she was a well-meaning bitch! At least she thought so. It wasn't that inconsiderate to judge people's appearances. It wasn't like she broadcasted her thoughts to the world. Like the fact that she thought piercings were tacky. Or scary. Or both. But that was a discussion for another time.

"I didn't take it that way." She smiled tentatively and flipped her short blonde hair out her her face. "I thought so," she replied. "Were you looking for something in particular? Maybe I can help you." She probably couldn't help, being that he almost certainly wasn't looking for something in the fancy edge of town, the only place she'd been enough to develop a mental map for, but she thought the sentiment was nice. Nice, see, she knew how to be nice!




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