WE ARE THE RECKLESS,, (cas)

[october grayson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]we are the wild youth [/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443] God damn school and how early it made people wake up. To be fair, October should be a normal teenage and fall asleep around midnight, instead of staying up until four am. He couldn't really help it, he just doesn't get tired before then. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, as he made his way down the stair well of the school. It was getting cold out in Hokkaido, he liked it... it reminded him of home. Not that many memories of home were very likeable, but Maine was nice. Yeah, he liked Maine. Toby pushed one headphone into his ear, and adjusted his gray hoodie that he wore under his unbuttoned uniform. Technically you weren't allowed to alter the uniform in any way, but Toby could careless about the rules. It didn't matter how much he fucked up, his parents would just pay off the school and ask them to oversee him, and the school would. They would gladly oversee his wardrobe malfunction for a fat stack of cash. Ugh. People suck. Money sucks. On his way down, Toby, who wasn't really paying attention at all, bumped his shoulder hard against someone. It was an accident, but... October wasn't going to apologize to whatever fucker didn't see him coming. The small boy glared up at a taller angrier looking blonde. He had seen him around before, bullying kids and yelling at them for god knows what... yeah he was not sorry for bumping into this guy. "Tch." he rolled his eyes and continued to walk past him. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;] words

[/color] 267
notes[/color] ububu sorry it's kinda short i guess[/style]

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[caspian macbeth]

[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]He wasn't having a good day. With the dreams from the night before, and the annoyances throughout the day, he couldn't get his mood out of the pit it was relishing in, dark and displeased and heartless. He'd already snapped at a kid for brushing against him. It'd spooked him; he looked like a... He knew he wasn't supposed to.. He knew he should be trying harder, but it was hard, especially today. He couldn't focus on anything but the slightest movements of the males around him, and he was stiff and direct as he walked through the halls, his hands gripping to his bag's strap that dug into his shoulder. His reputation proceeded him. For the most part, the students could recognize the look in his eye, and they knew to stay away; they knew to back off and not say too much. Most of them, anyway. The ones that didn't, he would snap at them until they backed off, and they more than usually backed off. Those who didn't, usually punched him, which gave him the right to 'defend himself' and punch them until they bled, until his knuckles hurt and he felt just a little bit better, at least on the surface, at least for a moment, an hour or less. Then he'd have to do it all over again, just for some moment of silence in his head and calm in his chest. Most of them were avoiding him today. Fine. Let them. All except for one, apparently. He bumped into him as he walked, but that wasn't even the worst part; the brat scoffed at him. What.. This.. little fucking prick! He snatched the boy's hood, jerking it back, then shoved him hard against the wall. "The fuck is your problem?"[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 296 tags: boyfrand october grayson notes: C: credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[october grayson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]we are the wild youth [/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443] Passing the boy, October pressed the other headphone into his ear, and rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he hissed under his breath, as he stuffed his fists into the pockets of his hoodie. The shorter boy gasped as he was suddenly pulled backward by the hood of his sweatshirt. His hands automatically flew to his neck, where the collar of the sweatshirt practically choked him. He coughed as he was pushed up against the wall, and glared daggers at his attacker. He knew that was practically asking for it, but it didn't stop him from being pissed off. This was his favorite hoodie, and if this dick ripped it, Toby was gonna flip. Getting beat up wasn't anything out of the ordinary either, and October was kind of hoping somewhere deep deep down in his masochistic heart that the kid would pick a fight with him. It would get him out of his next class. "The fuck is your problem?" The kid hissed at him. Toby took this time to look the boy up and down. There was no way that Toby could even match up to him in a fight. Toby, scoffed again and shoved the taller boy away. "I don't have a fucking problem, do you?" Toby answered, adjusting his sweatshirt and scanning it for any tears. Luckily, there were none that he could see. "Now could you get out my fucking way?" [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;] words

[/color] 258
notes[/color] kinda scatter brained atm so sorry for the sucky reply D':[/style]

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[caspian macbeth]

[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]He was smaller than himself. It'd make it easier to beat him into the ground if he was smaller than him, and it was fine. He was annoying, he was fucking annoying. How dare he touch him? How dare he act like he did? He didn't even know the kid. He looked new, or maybe he was just younger.. Younger, maybe.. sophomore, or a junior? Caspian wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter. The kid would know who not to mess with soon enough. He didn't like him. He didn't like the smug look in his stupid face. He didn't like the way he scoffed, and he fucking hated the way he shoved him. He moved backward a bit, but not much. He was used to this, and even his father knew that it was all he was good at, right? .. He hated the nightmares; they always reminded him of what he thought he had. Why was he looking at his sweatshirt like that? Like he was looking for something. Maybe he was just fixing it or something. It didn't matter. It'd be ruined with blood sooner or later, right? Sooner better than later. He growled with annoyance. The way he emphasized 'fucking' was just confusing, and he didn't like being confused, any more than he liked getting bumped into, any more than he liked getting touched in general. Avery had done enough of that to piss him off for a lifetime, but this kid didn't have the benefit of being someone he trusted. He didn't even know this bitch. He gripped his hand into a fist, tightly curled, and his anger flared and gripped. What was he even doing here? What right did he have to bump into him? He hated it. He hated people touching him, accident or not, but at least most of them apologized. This brat didn't even act like it was his fault! (As it totally was.) If he hurt him, he wouldn't do it again. He wouldn't touch him, not even on accident. He swung at his jaw.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 345 tags: boyfrand october grayson notes: omfg, my post.. such a fail. ;-; credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[october grayson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]we are the wild youth [/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443] Why did he want to fight again? God fighting sucked. How did he ever forget how much fighting sucked? He must have had some deep satisfaction in getting the shit kicked out of him, because god damn he always found himself instigating an altercation. There were the special occasions where he was able to run his mouth and people walked away with out raising a hand to him... but he hadn't gotten lucky today. This guy was ready for the fight the second he opened his mouth. October really needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut. The force of the punch was unreal. The whole world flashed white and a deafening ringing was starting to go off in his ears. He coughed hard, and wiped his numb lips with the inside of his hand. There was blood, he could taste it but he couldn't tell how much. Toby shook his head and tried to blink away the remaining white spots out of his vision, before he glared back up at his attacker and threw a punch of his own. Toby couldn't fight for shit, so he knew his punch wouldn't do much damage if he tried to get the guy's face. He aimed for the ribs instead. He didn't pack much of a punch, but he knew that it had to hurt some. All he wanted was enough time for his head to stop ringing, so he could plant his feet down on the floor and be ready for the next blow that he was sure to come. He started to regret everything he said, like he always did when he got in over his head. But really, was he insane? Look at this guy, he was a good six inches taller than him, and he looked like he could send October flying across the room without breaking a sweat. He fucked up, but there was no turning back now, he was in this shit and he might as well do it right. Toby planted his feet on the floor, and tackled the kid around the waist. He figured, if he could tuck his face down into the kid's stomach, he wouldn't fuck up his face too bad. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;] words

[/color] 372
notes[/color] oh october... you dumb baby[/style]

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[caspian macbeth]

[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]Most people, when they picked a fight with a known aggressive bully, where intelligent enough to hold their own, and know if they could or couldn't throw a punch. This kid wasn't good at fighting. He could see it before he could even feel it, by the way he held his hand, by the way he positioned himself. He was inexperienced, and it was pathetic. Why would he pick a fight if he couldn't fight? Caspian had little interest in fighting people who couldn't punch him, who couldn't hurt him. It wasn't masochism. He didn't get his gears turning with a punch to the jaw. It was punishment. He was sick; he needed to be punished. He was horrid... But the punch wasn't hard enough to hurt him much, though it did hurt a bit. Ribs were always sensitive. He gave only a little grunt, then sneered. Seriously? “Is that it?” He gripped his hand again. This little brat. When he picked a fight with someone larger and older and with more of a reputation than he did, he needed to learn how to better defend himself. He was going to punch him again, slam his fist down against his throat, or his stomach, or his face. Anywhere that would bring him pain was good enough for Caspian, and he was moving toward it, his weight shifting, when the boy shifted as well, and he couldn't hide the shock from his face when he was tackled. First of all, he was surprised at the force of it. He didn't think the kid had it in him. And second of all, fuck, he didn't think he'd get tackled, of all things. Most people were content with punching and kicking, some of them even bit him, the brats. But he had only gotten tackled .. once, if getting jumped counted. He was caught off of the floor and pain shot through his back as he landed on an awkward angle. “F-fuck!” He slammed his fist against the brat's head. Get off! Get off, get off, get off![/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 346 tags: boyfrand october grayson notes: sorry for late :c credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[october grayson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]we are the wild youth [/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443] October was just as shocked as Caspian, as they fell down the the floor. He was sure that the boy was going to hold his ground and Toby was just going to be tackling a brick wall, but they were falling. When they finally hit the ground, October hissed, his head aching even more than it was before. Damn that punch still had him spinning, and to add on to it right now he was getting punched in the head. His vision was blurry, and his thoughts were scrambling more and more with every punch to his head, jesus this kid was going to give him a concussion. The only clear thought in his mind was that he needed to get this kid to stop punching him in the head. He punched Cas hard in the ribs again, repeating it until he had an opening to pull his head out of Cas' chest. His body was still pressed firmly against the older boy, when he raised his head. "Shit..." Toby hissed, as he realized how much he had bled onto the other boy's shirt. There were three Cas' spinning under him right now, and all three of them had the same red blotch of red on their uniform, the red that was coming from Toby's mouth. He wiped at his mouth again with the back of his uniform jacket and braced himself for anything the boy would throw next. He really should back down, but he was too far into this now to back down. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;] words

[/color] 261
notes[/color] toby all over cas bleeding :3[/style]

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[caspian macbeth]

[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]He didn't care about concussions. He'd gotten them before. They were difficult to deal with, personally, but he didn't care anymore. It wasn't as if anyone else did, either. He avoided hospital stays. He didn't have the insurance. He didn't have the money. If he needed to get patched up, he went to the school nurse, and if they insisted he go elsewhere for more help, he'd go to his room. He'd just be in a fight two days later. It didn't matter if he got better or not. It didn't matter if he bled anymore. He hissed at the punch against his ribs, and they continued on, and they hurt. Fuck, they hurt, and he coughed harshly as one rib felt like it snapped under the force. The pain just made his anger spike. Maybe it was less so his anger, and just.. he couldn't lose this fight to some halfwit bitch. His shirt was tainted with the brat's blood. Fine. He could clean it. It was fine. He didn't like him so close, though. He'd decided that, and he brought his knee up hard against the kid's stomach. “Get th' fuck 'way from me, fuckin' ponce.” His fists hurt, and his nails dug into his palms as he balled them tightly into grips. He ground his teeth and that hurt, too, and his ribs hurt, and everything fucking hurt. It was just another day, then, hm?[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 238 tags: boyfrand october grayson notes: sorry for late :c credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[october grayson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]we are the wild youth [/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443] God, he felt like he was going to puke. His whole world was spinning and he was struggling to stay conscious as he stared down at the three spinning identical boys beneath him. He knew he was going to lose this fight, before he instigated it, it was just a matter of time before the boy finished him off. Toby felt like he was playing mortal kombat and he on his last points of HP while the words 'FINISH HIM' blinked over his unstable body. One more hit and he was out. The final blow came and damn was it a good hit. Toby's arms flew over his abdomen and he was sure that his stomach had rocket launched into his throat. His maroon colored eyes rolled to the back of his head and he closed them. Shit. If he wasn't fighting consciousness before, he was sure as hell fighting it right now. He fell over to his side, and lifted his knees to his chest, in some sort of attempt to stop the waves of pain. "Fuck," he whimpered softly, still hugging his knees to his chest. He had lost, bad, now the question was, how was he going to get himself to a nurse and would the kid stop kicking the shit out of him? He could get lucky by the kid leaving him there to bleed and find his way to the nurse, or the kid could still beat him when he was down. There was only one way to find out. Wait. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;] words

[/color] 264
notes[/color] K.O.[/style]

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