.one, twenty one guns, lay down your arms.

[SILAS A. TURNER]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A young male of around twenty-three entered the food court, running his hand through his light hair. A sigh escaped from his lips as he looked around, finally somewhere where he knew somewhat what to do. Moving into a line for pizza, he glanced around and winked at a couple girls, casting his confidence about the place as he moved down with his plastic green tray , collecting two pieces of pizza along with a cheese-stick and a large soda. After handing a few crumpled bills to the reluctant cashier and collecting the tray (before getting an unidentified substance wiped across the side of his hand on the grey counter), Silas Turner made his way to a table by the side.

As he ate, he reflected on his day. Woke up. Ate nothing. Went to band practice. Ate nothing. Went to the gym; ate a bag of airline peanuts he found in his locker (unopened, of course; he would never be that disgusting.) Went home and slept. Slept some more. Woke up at 8 pm. Then came here, his stomach talking for its own. He had only been here for a few weeks now and had made it into the lead singing position for a band called Radio Soul, which he was currently addicted and incredibly devoted to. Music had always been a strong suite; at a young age he plucked out tunes from his favorite cartoons on his father's guitar and sang along to them. Now, at 23, he was in a band and wanted to pursue.

He 'scoped', the short for whom his previous best friends, Richard, Demitri, and Zane [HA Ashley] had taught him meant 'scope out the girls'. He hadn't met anything too interesting yet; the occasional cutie, but too innocent, or the occassional hottie, but stupid and good for nothing. Or so he thought; he wanted a challenge now, he didn't want to just have a million one-night flings. He wanted to find someone here; someone real.

He soon had topped off the last of the initial piece of pizza and started on the second, his bite pace now slowing down from its ravenous speed earlier, his mouth chewing nearly as fast as the intervals between his stomach growling.

[OPHELIA M. WHITMAN]

TAKE A BREATH TAKE IT DEEP CALM YOURSELF HE SAYS TO ME IF YOU
PLAY YOU PLAY FOR KEEPS TAKE THE GUN AND COUNT TO THREE • • •
& i'm sweating now moving slow no time to think my turn to go
AND YOU CAN SEE MY HEART BEATING
YOU CAN SEE IT THROUGH MY CHEST

Ophelia Whitman was a strong girl. Maybe even overly strong. She had no fears, no doubt, and no sympathy. But right now she was feeling vulnerable. This emotion put her in a dangerous situation, for many reasons. One, her reputation of being so heartless and apathetic was dissipating as quickly as it came on. She felt like kicking herself in the face; this was pathetic. Her mood swings were bad, yeah, but this was different. A melancholy feeling was seeping into her veins and coursing through it with ever pulse her black heart made. Rolling her eyes, she blasted her iPod as she tripped out of her apartment. Her attire was classy, as usual. It was coming nighttime in her city; and the city’s queen needs to be dressed to impress, regardless that she is being emotional. As she opened the door from her temporary home building, the night enveloped her in it’s enigmatic drama. Somberly flowing down the street, her pace not picking up in speed, nor decreasing in it. She decided her final destination would be the food court where the Shameless contenders eat. She was too emotional to go to a club now. The tingly feeling in her feet she got when she wanted to dance was not there. It was unnatural not feeling like that. When she walked by guys and they looked at her mischievously, she just looked down and kept on walking. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Turning without thinking to the exact location she wanted to be at, she sighed in relief as she reached the food court. Trotting quickly over to Starbucks, she demanded a Frappacino coldly.

There it was. That evil bitchiness was returning to her. All she really needed was some socialization to get back to normal. When she was fourteen, a freshman, she was in the drama club at her highly exclusive private school. She was a phenomenal actress and could put on the best poker face in the stickiest of situations. She had a big problem with crying on cue, though. Her apathy was hardwired into her at a young age, so crying was not in her agenda at any time. She’s only cried two times, excluding when she was a baby and cried because there was no other way to show displeasure. She was always cut out of romantic tragedy plays, even though she was aesthetically astounding. She always played the villain, and a villain she remains. A demon trapped in an angel’s body. Wandering and wondering, she scoped the room for Shameless people. Someone she could talk (well, more like gossip or hook up, but let’s just call it talk) with and she could partially enjoy herself. Deciding not to order food to not appear piggish, Ophelia sat herself in one of the nicer chairs in the court, it’s quality much higher than the plastic and metal benches that were in the literal court section of the food court. She was in, basically, the VIP part of the place. It was reserved for Shameless members and it’s affiliates. Glancing around the cut off section, she was hoping she would find what she was looking for and not just sit there alone like an idiotic loser the whole time. Sipping her drink calmly, her eyes and mind were running at one hundred miles per hour. Being surrounded by people made her on edge. She wanted to feel that indescribably powerful feeling of someone else’s blood on her hands.

Noticing her iPod earphones were still dangling in one ear, she turned the music off and wrapped up her earphones around the iPod touch. Blinking a few times, she sighed in dismay. Was anyone going to come and see her? At this point she did not even care if it was not a Shameless member who came up to her and talked. She just wanted someone. Someone to be around. Someone to manipulate. Someone to harm. Her mind always went to harming someone. It was inevitable that she would hurt someone, so why not prepare herself for it? The girl pondered life (and death, of course) for a bit, trying out what she had read about so many others doing in novels she had cracked open. She, admittedly, was an avid reader. Books could allow her to let her imagination run free without her being arrested. That was key. Crossing her legs provocatively, she threw a sultry look to the room, hoping someone would look. Pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, she leaned forward a bit, revealing her chest and pushing her face out to show her sharp cheekbones. Ophelia was a natural flirt, and she had the assets to show off; so what harm was there in flaunting what she has?

words 805
tagged Silas(aka THE SEX)/Megan(THE CREATOR OF SEX)
notes Siphelia is gonna be THE SHIT OUTFIT: Her pertyful outfit.
template PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION ( Thank you, Lauz! Your templates are the bestttt!)

[/size][/center]

[SILAS A. TURNER]

turn the lights out
if you wanna mess with my eyesight
just let me get my head right.
who are you? what did we do last night?
i don't know what i did...
everything, everything is still a

[/color]blur[/font][/size]

S

[/color]ometimes Silas thought of himself, or his life, like a movie filmed by an amateur director. It seemed to be always speeding up, slowing down, not quite knowing what plot or time balance to take on... he couldn't help it. But with that came the extra special effects that sometimes covered up for the erratic behavior of his spirit. The times he was captured deep within his own thoughts, it seemed to zoom in on his face, the cameras did, using that cool slow-motion effect, blurring out his face and then returning to focus as his mind jumped around like a broken needle on an antique record player... And the times he was ready, listening and moving, drinking, getting things done, flirting, picking up girls, hooking up... Those times were the times that went by fast, sometimes so fast he regretted them or how they passed. Just like all of the other thinking times, now the camera was in slow-motion, coming up upon his face and showing how he thought.

But the camera could never know what he was thinking. It could only guess. You could only guess.

His mind worked differently, in a way. It thought more... "outside of the box", he supposed you could call it. Silas found a root problem and somehow worked to the very outer edge, not dissecting it or obsessing, no, but able to easily diagnose the cause or problem that may lie ahead. The few times he's shared what he thinks about situations or what to do, he's received odd looks and things of the like, obviously not something he wants nor needs, so he simply resorts to resorting to his own mind, which in a way is the only conundrum he finds the most difficult to solve...

During this time of thought, he found a nagging resistance at the back of his head that was causing the throbbing from his hangover earlier that day to return. Slowly taking bites of the pizza, able to cram in that last piece, he thought about the band, and all of the contributing factors like he does. Perhaps this was right for him; he never was completely sure what he wanted in life, after all; it's one of those things that come with people who diagnose different factors in a problem with strategic minds like his. He understood the gut feeling; instinct that so helped him to choose his path with music. But all of his second guessing and doubts and things of the like caused him to question it further. If he was so devoted to music, why would he be second guessing? Why would he be second guessing about second guessing, and so on and rambling thoughts like that. This caused a chain reaction, the rather nervous or anxious feeling that spread slowly throughout his system, slow-working poison rather than an instantaneous bullet, and slowly caused his thoughts to be marred and changed. It were these times where he could not allow himself to wallow in his own mind, for what he thought he saw as the real word would become shaded and blurry and his mind would take him over.

Pulling himself and the camera out of the slow-motion thinking moment, he stood up limberly and disposed of the plastic plate and tray, slapping his hands on his faded denim jeans thoughtfully as he pulled himself slowly out of thought, much like most would rather slowly wake from deep dreams instead of leap out of bed and be suddenly awake. The blur around him seemed to come back, the chatter to life, and these were the thoughts that brought a smile to his face, that his life really was like a movie in that way, as cheesy as it sounded.

Slowly making his way across the stone tile, his mind (if it were a real figure) would have been racing or panting hard, trying to recover quickly as he absently avoided the darker tiles and stepped on the white ones. He stepped lightly, trying to raise out of the fog even more so that he could focus on what was needed, try to "scope the scene" for whatever he needed. Entering the cafe, he decided on ordering an iced tea, something that always helped clear up headaches or other symptoms from the hangovers he was constantly getting; this trend showed that he obviously knew some of his drinks. Waiting in line behind the usual customer type and staring at the menu above even though he already knew what he wanted, he slipped his hands into his pockets and finally stared at the girl behind the counter, smiling slightly when he came up. She was average, nothing special, nothing he would waste too much time on, as snobby as it sounded.

"Iced tea, please," he stated calmly and cooly, not in the mood for the usual chit-chat that the cafe people usually started with him. He just wanted some girls; see, not for sex, not for a relationship; in a weird way he wanted someone to talk to that wasn't average or normal; he wanted someone different, perhaps like himself, and he was very good at finding these things. As he handed over change and eventually plucked the plastic cup, already sweating in the slightly warm air, he looked around in the small room, passing over into the nicer section where members of the Shameless Tour were permitted. Looking around at the mostly cheery regular people, he suddenly caught a glimpse of what he wanted.

It was like walking through a room and feeling a sudden cold spot and thinking of a ghost; he saw this girl and immediately knew he wanted her. Her deep raven hair contrasting with her skin, the almost seemingly scowl on her face, her provocative stance; he knew in that moment she was not normal, and that was what he wanted, as was stated earlier. He felt himself walking over, though perhaps he wasn't completely ready, and quickly recovered from his momentary revere and slid into the seat of the booth across from her and smiled, charming, hoping that it would go over well but knowing it probably wouldn't.

"Now, we're both alone in a cafe, seems like a perfect chance to meet someone new," he said briskly but smoothly, his voice rather slick in the way it took on when he was confident. "The perfect chance...," he echoed from himself, chuckling at the words, his thick voice seeming more light than usual. "Silas." He said, extending his hand over the table, glancing about this girl appreciatively, and then eventually bringing his eyes back to her face, the thick but tame eyebrows raising.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Words: 1, 114.
Notes: I think Silas has the sex and Ophelia has the evil and sex and evil make a wonderful pair. YUSSS![/center][/size][/color]

[OPHELIA M. WHITMAN]

TAKE A BREATH TAKE IT DEEP CALM YOURSELF HE SAYS TO ME IF YOU
PLAY YOU PLAY FOR KEEPS TAKE THE GUN AND COUNT TO THREE • • •
& i'm sweating now moving slow no time to think my turn to go
AND YOU CAN SEE MY HEART BEATING
YOU CAN SEE IT THROUGH MY CHEST

Fresh prey! Lead singer prey! Oh, how Ophelia’s luck has changed. The insufferably hot lead singer of Radio Soul was talking to her. She knew he vaguely knew who she was. The gossipers were nearly as famous as the band members, naturally. She tossed her dark, dark brown hair behind her shoulders and smiled wryly. She tried to come up with some witty and sassy reply, but her psychotic manner had left her completely. She swallowed the little spit that was in her mouth, but the rest of it was dry. She shrugged her left shoulder and tilted her head to the left, as well, showing off her sharp, defined jawbone. “Alone in a café, we are.” She nodded, her formal terms coming out. She only spoke this formal when she was crushing, but no one knew this and no one ever would. She pondered his choice of terms. The perfect choice just did not seem right, unless he was hitting on her (in her wildest dreams would he hit on her. And yes, Ophelia has dreams.). She watched the blonde male sit down. Man, was he good looking. His eyes were a steely blue, unlike her intense icy shade of blue. As he said his name, a hot tingle went down Ophelia’s back. She very well knew his name, of course she did. She knew everyone. She opened her lips subtly and replied, “Ophelia.” She timidly jutted out her hand and slowly shook his large hands. They were warm and not clammy. Oh, God. I hope my hands are not clammy. She thought. She despised clammy hands. Almost as much as she despised puppies (I hope you are not surprised by this. For being surprised that Ophelia hates puppies is rather senseless. Three words. She. Hates. Everything.).

Taking a deep breath, the girl let go of his hand and avoided eye contact. She had to regain her authority somehow, for she felt like a weakling. And she was no weakling. I came, I saw, I conquered. I came, I saw, I conquered. I came, I saw, I conquered. She thought this over and over in her head until she felt that surge in the pit of her stomach. A feeling not unlike to when you are in a car and it is accelerating so much that you are driven back into the seat and cannot breathe. It was that adrenaline-pumping feeling that made Ophelia truly happy. And this happiness only came when she was a bitch. She felt bold; like she could take on the world and pummel it in her fucking hand. Being bold, she giggled and leaned forward provocatively and tossed her head up. “I know who you are, of course.” She tossed one of her shoulders in for good measure. “You are the lead singer of Radio Soul. Silas Turner.” She smiled with great pride. “Do you know who I am?” She gave not much time for him to reply, as usual. “I am Ophelia Whitman. A gossip columnist.” She shook her head in a girly fashion. “But not a stupid one. A good one.” She giggled some more. Wagging her finger, she arched her eyebrows and said, “There is a difference. A big one.” She knew she was being overly forward, but she could not help it. She was the was she was and no one could change that. Sighing, she looked back to his (gorgeous) eyes. She really liked this kid, but he probably only wanted her for sex. That is only what guys want Ophelia for. Sex. Actually, Ophelia has never had a love. No boyfriend that cherished her like a diamond. Just boys she spent the night and had fun with. She left the next morning, for she knew most of them probably have girlfriends. A siren like her is apt to have boy toys like this, and Ophelia just had to get used to it. It is all part of life. She struck up a conversation with this boy, not letting on that she seriously had a crush on him. She barely knew him, which was the embarrassing part.

“How are you today, Silas?” Her words had her normal edge on them, but she felt a little different. That pushing feeling was at a maximum. She wondered if he thought she was anything more than a pretty face. Or a psychotic murderess. Either way, she wanted so truly to know if he liked her legitimately or not. If he was not serious, she did not want to waste her time having a one night stand with a guy she would remember for a damn long time. Breathing in the aroma of his pizza, she wondered what it was like to eat so badly. She had not ever had pizza, and she was ashamed by this fact. Every kid has had pizza. But not her. But then again not every kid has brutally murdered someone. Fair enough. Pressing resume on her labyrinthine mind, a tidal wave of thoughts rushed into her brain. Most had to do with this boy. A recurring one was if he believed the story about her murdering that girl or not. Well, she did, but no one else knew that for sure. Her dirty little secret was one everyone knew but was not one hundred percent sure on. This little percent of second guessing was what kept her from being thrown in the jail at this very moment. Taking in a deep breath, because she forgot to breathe, she looked up to the ceiling. What was she going to do with her life. Who was she going to marry? Was she even going to marry? Will she ever be a mother?

She looked to the group of nearly drooling girls walking by the two. They were all pretty and he would be a dumbass not to take a look at them. They were good looking, no, great looking. Their little skirts were shorter than hell and Ophelia was about to vomit. She, on instinct, coughed “Sluts.” The girls definitely heard her and threw her looks of timid hatred. They knew who she was. They knew what she did. Their scrawny little bodies could/would not be able to touch Ophelia. It was great having power. Power was such a funny thing. You could not see it, smell it, physically feel it, touch it, or taste it. But you had to acquire it somehow. This somehow was by doing something crazy. Something dangerous. And Ophelia just had to murder someone. If that is what it takes to become famous then, hell, I will become a fucking assassin! She thought far too lightheartedly. She thought about killing like a normal girl would think about painting their toenails. So cavalier and nonchalant. She, a smile still plastered on her face, looked back to Silas. “I hope you did not mind my little outburst.” She hung her head in mock shame. “I had this urge…” she clamped her hand into a fist and shook it as an example. “You know what I mean, right?” She smiled. “Those urges you just cannot resist. It’s like a magnet.” She tilted her head. “A very dangerous magnet, at that.”

She then looked to her new acquaintance. “I must digress and say I like your shirt.” She smiled genuinely (a rare occasion, for sure), for she really, truly liked his shirt. It was classy and actually made his awkwardly informal jeans look a little more formal than they were. “You have good taste.” She could not stop smiling. She soon figured hanging around this boy was not good for her health. She was becoming all mushy and girly. She was known for being amazingly bitchy, not sweet. And, truthfully, it just was not her thing. She definitely preferred being a stupid psychotic bitch. “So…” she stammered. “How is your band?” She shrugged. She heard there was some cutesy things happening between Sean and Tinuviel. But she but her lip, trying not to ask about the blossoming romance because maybe, just maybe, there could be another blossoming romance…. Psh. No use trying to get my hopes up. She thought sourly and dropped any hope of them getting together as more girls paraded by with their hopes (and their skirts) sky high. Ophelia thought idly that if Silas were even remotely smart that he would definitely prefer the classy, fresh Ophelia over the dirty, skanky, most likely disease ridden whores that were nearly showing their underwear (or lack thereof) to the poor lead singer.

words 1,425. Aka THE SEX amount of words.
tagged Silas(aka THE SEX)/Megan(THE CREATOR OF SEX)
notes Siphelia is gonna be THE SHIT OUTFIT: Her pertyful outfit.
template PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION ( Thank you, Lauz! Your templates are the bestttt!)

[/size][/center]

[SILAS A. TURNER]

wish that i could cry fall upon my knees find a way to lie
• ABOUT A HOME I'LL NEVER SEE •
i'm only a man looking for a dream it's not easy to be me

A small smirk began to slide slowly across Silas's face, tugging more at the right corner of his mouth than the left, an odd but cute quirk he had when he was thinking. Simply watching her move and talk, he knew she was gorgeous and loved that she seemed to know it as well. This might be interesting... He shifted in the seat slightly to allow his toned arm to move more freely as he shook her petite hand. His eyes gazed at hers, the same general color as his but so completely opposite... he liked it... her icy stare on him made him feel excited, adrenaline pumping. He nodded slightly after she spoke her name, it made him feel odd. Like in those instances that you hear a word and you want to try it out, hear it roll of your own tongue, wrap your lips around it... he wanted that right there, and of course, Silas couldn't care less what others thought of him, so he did what he wanted.

"Ophelia..." he said with a nod, allowing the smirk or grin or whatever it really was, his sexy signature move, to spread across his face. It didn't let him down; just the word was one he felt so easy to come out of his own mouth but a lot easier. There's only one way to keep saying that name, Silas... you have to get this one... he thought to himself, and he didn't mean for sex, though girls often assumed this of him. "Very nice to meet you," he murmured in that way of his. See, sometimes, Silas had a thing, and it might seem like boasting on his part, but he was... sensual without trying. His lips parted less when he spoke, this little sexy smirk stayed on his face, which usually only happened subconsciously when he liked what he saw... And he did, very much so.

Moving his hand back to the table to rest one arm on the cool wood, he picked up his drink with the other, the slight veins showing along his arm, simply swirling the mid-green liquid around without drinking at all from the bright green straw sticking out. He watched with the same smirk on his face as she giggled, noticing how pretty she was really instead of just sexy... her hair was long and beautiful, her face clean, cheekbones and jaw pronounced. Hmm... he know he probably sounded weird and obsessive or just like a slut, but he really did need something other than just a bed toy every night... Not that it wasn't good enough for him, that wasn't exactly it. It wasn't right altogether. That didn't help him when he didn't know what to do, when he was absolutely exhausted and couldn't do anything and needed to talk with someone or needed to be THERE for someone, more importantly... It made it harder knowing that he didn't have that luxury which most find easily and take for granted. He nodded and laughed, the sound deep and rather thick after him diving back into his complex mind, as she spoke his name and his position in the band.

"Very good, Miss Ophelia," he said with a laugh, assuming it had been long enough to say her name without sounding like a freak. He felt his eyebrows raise considerably when she mentioned her part in Shameless. Becoming a bit more serious, he nodded once more and commented, "Tough work. To get up there, at least." Though sometimes these things could break groups up, he somehow respected the better gossipers... of course it took forever to make your way to being one of the top. And it was a dangerous world... sometimes we needed the gossip to stir up some action every now and then, that was Silas's opinion. He laughed easily, instead of the harsh or forced sounds men often made when interested or excited by a girl... "Of course I would never assume you are stupid... I can tell when a pretty girl is smart..." he said, the smirk turning into a genuine grin. He watched her for a moment, feeling how he felt when he was intrigued and stumped at the same time. There were people you could read like a book... people anyone could read like a book. Then there were the people that Silas could understand, a bit easier for him than the average. But she... Ophelia was a tough egg to crack, Silas guessed you could call it. He couldn't quite find a way around the exact way she was acting and why, which was unusual for him and though it made him slightly nervous it intrigued him and turned him on. Mysterious, beautiful, smart... he listed off in his head, nodding barely to himself.

He looked down at the table, taking a long drink of the blunt tea before looking back up at her face earnestly, for once the smirk not being there. A regular smile showed at the corners of his lips, and he took a deep breath and sighed, rolling his toned shoulders back, subconsciously showing off his form. "I've been alright... kind of tired, I guess. Felt a little bit irritated before I sat down here," he stated, looking into her icy eyes with an innocent little-boy smile. "But for some reason, this is a little bit of a relief," he said with one firm nod to himself, his eyes straying, but refocusing as a group of girls walked by. They had to be a few years younger than him, and he gave them some credit with a small wink, but wasn't impressed with their attempts to get his attention. Though it was for most boys, showing half of your ass did nothing for him except excite him, which it would for any normal (straight) male. But it didn't impress him and certainly didn't turn him on excessively; he felt they were trying to be someone so much different than each of them probably were. Hell, one of them might love horses; the other being into pottery, another into music, and of course, the outside vision of them are just a few little sluts who walk around the mall and get money from their daddy for more revealing clothes. His gaze returned to Ophelia, keeping himself well under control, banishing the image of the overly-provocative girls from his mind, or any images thereafter. He listened to her quietly, a small smile registering on his face as she spoke to him about urges and emotion.

"Of course I know, if I wasn't a man I would do the same," he muttered with a playful smirk and a wink (of course only Silas could pull of a wink in these modern days). His eyes widened dramatically as the grin spread wider across his face. "But danger is so good in a way! That feeling it gives you, right in the pit of your stomach... like when you're flying around in a car, pressed against your seat, or a roller coaster... The adrenaline, that's it. It pumps right through you, you know?" he said, tilting his head barely, subconsciously, in a cute little way. Listening to her comments on his shirt further, he laughed loosely again, glancing down and tugging at the shirt.

"You think so? Yeah, I dunno," he slurred, allowing his glance to stray past Ophelia's face and to her hair, her neck, her form as he looked over her for the first time (a pretty long time to wait before a boy first checks a hottie out, he thought and praised himself) before casually returning his gaze to her face. "You're gorgeous just as well," he commented appreciatively, letting a slight bit of flirt reach into his voice but not enough to intimidate her. He had this art mastered and he knew it... over years of practice finally he could say he had it right and no longer had to waste time on girls he wasn't interested just for the practice.

"It's going good... I'm mainly working on brainstorming and writing new stuff," he said with a smile to her, putting a bit more trust than he probably should in a gossip columnist, but of course, how could she ever trust him if he didn't her? Or that's his opinion at least... "The more songs you have to fail, the more that will win," he mused, spreading his hands slightly on the table with a mildly seductive glance and smirk at her, shifting his weight on the soft leather padding of the seat below him.

WORDS ,, 1, 434. CRAP. xD
TAGGED ,, Ashley (THE SEXED ONE), Oph (THE EVIL ONE)
NOTES ,, All I have to say is that Siphelia is going to be IT. XD
CREDIT ,, PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION[/size]

[OPHELIA M. WHITMAN]

TAKE A BREATH TAKE IT DEEP CALM YOURSELF HE SAYS TO ME IF YOU
PLAY YOU PLAY FOR KEEPS TAKE THE GUN AND COUNT TO THREE • • •
& i'm sweating now moving slow no time to think my turn to go
AND YOU CAN SEE MY HEART BEATING
YOU CAN SEE IT THROUGH MY CHEST

The way this boy complimented Ophelia made her nearly melt in his hands, but she had to keep her composure. He knew how to get into a girl’s heart, but she, oh she was not like those other little sluts he most likely was used to. She was no band groupie. Yeah, she was a little easy at times, but that did not matter. She liked to at least be a little hard to get; even though this little crush of his would only last a night. They all did, did they not? Huffing silently in dismay, she knew this boy wanted himself lodged in between Ophelia and her pants. That is what all boys wanted from her, right? Smiling sweetly, she tucked her head into her chest a little in mock shyness. The way he said her name was like drinking a sweet but potent drink from a luxury bar. She wanted to say something impressive like she went to Harvard and was on the fast track to becoming a lawyer. But she was not. Only in her dreams would these things be true. Granted, her dreams were violent and evil for the most part, but sometimes she had sweet little girly dreams. Only after nights where she had felt innocent and vulnerable, like she pretended to be now. Recrossing her legs, she swallowed some excess spit and resumed thanking this chivalrous boy. “I am glad you know how I feel about adrenaline rushes.” She smirked, for this could be interpreted in many other ways than just the literal sense. “And I greatly thank you for all of these kind compliments, Mr. Turner.” She smiled a small wry grin as she wished she had gotten a drink, for Silas’ iced tea was looking more appealing with each sip he took (then again, Silas in general was looking more appealing with each thing he said). The feelings that were coursing through her veins were confused, to say the least. She wanted him to get lost in Ophelia-land, but she also wanted to make a relationship with a guy like him real. He was such a good guy; how could he still be single? When she was a little girl, her mother had told her to go after any boy that was good looking, treated her like a princess, and was financially well off. Well, he was basically all three of these things. Smiling, she snidely thought Oh, mom. You would be so proud. Chuckling out loud a bit, she glanced back to the boy. When he looked her over, she shuddered a bit; she could feel his eyes examine her feminine body inch by square inch. She bit her lip in embarrassment and looked away, waiting for him to finish looking at her. She snuck a peek at his eyes. All clear. When he winked at the little sluts, she felt a pang of bitter sourness. Why did he have to wink at them? They were horrendous creatures, not giving a shit about modesty; only about getting laid. She hoped that they would get AIDS the next time they had sex, just because they were stealing her spotlight. Then after they got their AIDS, they would die. Hah. Ophelia quite liked this idea.

After they stopped giggling (or at least in Ophelia’s earshot), she resumed her conversation with the guy they would never get. Oph felt mighty fucking special to even be flirting with a guy in this kind of status. Throwing back a lock of her glossy hair, she looked to the skylight in that part of the food court. The night sky was settling in on New York, and she could feel the nightlife awakening like a hibernating creature does after winter is done. It was a rather exciting process, the nightlife. Anything could happen, alliances could be made, romances could be shattered (or made, for that matter), and, well, the sky was not even the limit. Thinking this over a bit, she wondered what would happen between Silas and her tonight. Obviously thinking of the extreme, she smiled at him shamelessly; like she had just heard a dirty joke that some invisible person next to her. When he told her that he was relieved when he sat down with her, she got his implications and looked to the side in faux flirtiness. Yeah, she really felt jittery from flirting like this, but she was quite apathetic, so her excited was the normal person’s almost-excited. She had had these kinds of confrontations before. They usually led to sex, but she would not matter at all if she just sat there with Silas for the rest of the night; talking about nothing yet making good conversation. The Rihanna song that played over the PA was perfect. The lyrics, the mood, everything. It was sultry, electronic, and catchy; just what she needed. The urge to start dancing right then and there was almost unbearable. She had to do something or else she would do another something that she would regret right after doing it.

“I will be right back.” She held up her thin index finger. “I need to get a drink, m’kay?” She smiled and walked away. She hoped she looked alright to Silas and attracted him, even when she was not looking at him. Pursing her lips, she glided up to the cafe. “Hey.” She murmured. “Can I get a hot tea, please?” She usually did not say please, but this little happiness high was running inside of her and she did not want to turn it off. Leaning on the counter with her hands sprawled across it, she crossed her legs, giving her right foot a little break from her heels. Watching the young woman take out a tea bag cautiously and fill a porcelain cup full of steaming water, Ophelia sighed; this made the girl tense up even more. Closing her eyes in frustration, she wondered why the hell the girl was so petrified of failing on one little thing. It is not like the girl had not seen murderers before (she just probably had never knew they were murderers before). The girl gingerly set the tea bag in the water and waited for a bit, staring at the tea like it was the only thing that would keep her alive. “... really?” Ophelia breathed out in an exasperated sigh. The nervous girl did not hear her, unfortunately, and she pursed her lips some more, her happiness steadily wearing off. She tapped her heels in total annoyance, hanging onto the music that was now slowly playing over the PA. No more Rihanna. This sucked. Bad. Figuring out that she would see what the new craze is, she decided to watch the tea turn from clear water to brownish yellow tea along with the young girl, who was dressed in a maroon polo with black dress pants and a black apron on her. Her nametag read Julia. Wow, what a boring name. Thought the ingeniously named Ophelia. What had inspired her parents to name her Ophelia? Was it really Hamlet? She really doubted her mother would have read Hamlet, so it must have been her father. He was smart....ish. Ophelia definitely was the brains of the Whitman family, even though her brains were tinted. Watching the steam float up into the air from the tea, she sighed audibly, and the girl jumped, noticing it was done. “sugarormilk...orboth?!” The girl piped, clearly startled. Holding both of her hands out in a high five ‘it’s not my fault’ movement she blinked slowly and asked. “Please say that again. I am afraid I do not speak Alvin and the Chipmunks.” Keeping a straight face, she really had this desire to burst out laughing, for her snide comments really made herself happy. Julie decided to slow it down, but stammer. Still inaudible, still annoying. “Uhh.. Sugar.. or.. uhh.. umm.. milk.” Then she added some more fast in it just for kicks. “orboth?” Wow, was this girl fucked in the head or what? Smirking, Ophelia replied “I would like a few dashes of sugar.” After two dashes, the girl was about to put in another when Oph decided that was enough. “Okay! That is sufficient.” She loudly giggled as Julie mumbled under her breath, sugar still in her gloved hand. Tossing the excess sugar on the floor (which Ophelia noticeably turned her nose up about), Julie handed Miss Whitman her tea, still a little hesitant that she was this close to a psychotic girl who needs to be institutionalized as soon as possible. Tossing a few dollar bills on the table, Ophelia waited to get her change. Julie was insufferably slow. Physically ad most likely mentally. Slowly returning Ophelia’s currency to the beautiful girl, Julie avoided hand and eye contact. Snatching her bills and coins, Ophelia rolled her eyes and walked back to the table briskly, not enjoying the diminishment of her good mood. Maybe Silas will raise her mood again. She knew Silas would make her happy. He was such a tease and she adored it.

Strutting maybe a little too provocatively back to the table, she smiled at Silas with her tea in hand, she sat back down. Not sipping the tea immediately because she knew it would singe her taste buds, she ran her index finger around the rim of the cup and remembered a little something he had said before. “You said before that you were writing songs?” She looked at him with her defined head tilted. “What kind of songs?” She was very curious about this. Songs about love? Songs about fame? There were so many different kinds of songs. If they got together, would he write a song about her? She partially blushed at this thought, her curiosity clearly getting the best of her. She then wondered. What would he do if she kissed him. Right then and there. Just by his looks, she knew his lips would be sweeter than the iced tea he had been sipping. Licking her own lips in temptation, she smiled mischievously; that mysteriously adorable look on her face again. Silas was probably wondering what the hell was wrong with her, but she did not mind. He could figure it out himself if he wanted to enough. She would gladly let him into her apartment. See, she rented here in New York, for she knew that Shameless would be a very actively moving band; and therefore she would have to be an actively moving gossiper. It was pure logic. Taking a deep breath in, she wanted so very badly to strike up more conversation. Picking any subject at random to talk about, she targeted one of his own crew members. “Via Liter.” She started, still looking up to the ceiling. “Does Via Liter sing?” She looked at him in confusion. “I have heard around the block that she was singing in the park in Boston one day.” Shrugging, Oph managed to try and gather gossip without saying that she is. “If she is any good... you should have her do a song with you. A female voice would compliment your voice in some of your higher pitched songs.” She said this so nonchalantly as she examined her fingernails. It was not like she wanted Via Liter to be super successful or anything, she just wanted a few rumors to be flying around. Nothing big, for she liked this Silas kid. A lot. Just a bit of ruckus would be entertaining to gossip about. Smiling, she looked back to the boy. “I really like your songs. They are always so thought-provoking and catchy. A hard combination, but you and your band nail it.” She smiled a crooked little smile and lightly bounced in her seat, just talking to this boy made her feel far more jubilant than the slow girl Julie. The more she looked at him, the more she wanted to run her hands through his hair. His hair. It was so golden, and shiny, and... delicious looking. These thoughts were far too bold to say out loud to this boy, but she screamed them inside of her head. Had she ever been this love drunk before? Thinking back on her relationships, she noticed (with swiftly declining pride) that none of her relationships had ever been over one week long. She wanted to tell her brain to shut the fuck up, but that would scare away this boy and make her look mentally insane while doing so.... Yeah, I will refrain from that. She thought, a tad embarrassed as the ran what that scene would look like through her head. Shaking that out of her brain, she heard another catchy beat come on the radio. She liked it, but Silas probably would not. It was hip-hop-ish, and he looked like strictly the alternative music type. But, you never know. Ophelia never pictured herself as a killer, but lo and behold, she is. In retrospect, Ophelia thought about how she did not even really think her killing was that bad. I mean, come on, she thought. There have been far more brutal murders out there. Sighing in boredom, she looked at her new acquaintance. “I apologize for being so quiet.” She laughed a bit, more ashamed at herself rather than amused at her words. “It has been quite the long day and I could use some excitement.” She smiled blankly, only then noticing the risque sound of her words. “And by excitement I mean some club hopping, of course.” If one did not know better, they would think Ophelia was blushing, but she could not be. It is just impossible; but that pinkish hue on her cheeks is one that shows utter innocence and embarrassment. A look Ophelia never shows. Oh fuck, she thought. What is this boy doing to me?

words 2,315. I am legit insane.
tagged Silas/Meggerlou
notes OUTFIT: Her pertyful outfit.
template PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION ( Thank you, Lauz! Your templates are the bestttt!)

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[SILAS A. TURNER]

wish that i could cry fall upon my knees find a way to lie
• ABOUT A HOME I'LL NEVER SEE •
i'm only a man looking for a dream it's not easy to be me

Silas felt himself shift in the seat, rolling his shoulders back absentmindedly and watching her quietly, feeling nothing needed to be said quite at the moment. Taking a sip of the tea, his gaze slipped around the cafe, where the crowd and people were slowly thinning, each person taking their time and eventually staggering out, half of them seemingly drunk from the bar next door, tossing their drinks in the trashcan, some even missing the trash can and cracking up. Silas rolled his eyes at the wasted group of teenage boys and smiled. "I remember when I was like that... young and stupid... but it was fun," he said with a smile, his gaze returning back to Ophelia's icy, refreshing stare. "Definitely a time I would trade." He chuckled deep under his breath, barely audible, and played with a napkin he had in front of him. He listened to her talk some more, part of his mind thinking just about Ophelia in general, how she was beautiful, rather mysterious, that he wanted to find out. Now that he thought about it, why not get together that night? Just because he did that didn't mean he didn't have any chance at having her in a relationship... in fact, it might help his case a little bit if they had some fun together. The thought sent a grin sprawling across his face, bringing the most of his mind back to what she was saying.

"You're very welcome," he responded to her with a small nod. "I don't lie. Ever. So you don't need to worry about that," he said with another small grin, raising one eyebrow and then waggling both at her playfully. He laughed and topped off his drink with a small sucking noise and pushed it off to the side, his eyes moving around the nearly empty cafe. Only about 5 people were in there now, one couple making out in the back private booth, which he laughed at the young teens. The other couple seemingly were just friends, talking, and then there was one person sitting alone. The baristas looked bored, and just stood around talking quietly, waiting for the last of the people to leave. Wrenching himself from his thoughts, he turned his head up to look at Ophelia as she headed off to get a drink, watching her like any normal man would as she sauntered away. Staying on his own, he pulled out his phone and checked the time; 9:45. He'd been there nearly an hour already, he thought with a small shock, but a grin spread across his face anyway. It certainly wasn't a waste of time, not in his mind anyway. Turning his glance to check on Ophelia, he laughed quietly as he saw her giving the small, quaint server a hell of a time, giving her a quick thumbs up and chuckling again. She seemed like a lot of fun; he needed someone like that sometimes, just to laugh with or at. As she walked back over, Silas smirked up at her.

"Naughty girl, poor waitress," he scolded, wagging a finger at her and smiling playfully. "She was moving like a slug though, I got to agree. Who works at a cafe if they can't move quickly?" he asked, rolling his eyes and laughing again. He watched her sit down, liking the small vibe of flirt he got from her, watching her quietly as she asked about songs. Still playing with the napkin, he pondered for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and then back to Ophelia's pale face. "I suppose I tend to write about whatever I'm feeling at the moment... usually about emotions, obviously, but it depends on the day..." he said. As he thought about this, he thought about writing about love, he felt a slight twinge, unaware that she was thinking more to it as well. He smiled wryly at her. "I guess I would write about love if I loved someone," he said with a small laugh, though he was barely kidding at all. He swirled the empty cup filled with green-tinted ice, he thought for a moment about her comment about Via. "No, not in the band, she doesn't... but I heard that as well, I'm not sure. Maybe she just likes to sing but doesn't want to do it in the band," he suggested, bringing his eyes back to hers. A slow smile spread across his face. "You're not using me just for gossip, are you?" he teased, partially joking and partially wondering the answer now that he thought of it. She wouldn't really do that, would she? He thought, a small furrow forming in between his brows. But he quickly erased it; one thing he hated doing was creating or feeling tension. It was the one thing he could not stand at all, the feeling of being tongue-tied, which he never believed could happen until the first and previous girl he actually loved several years ago, but he never liked to think about that... it created that tension again and he got mad at this, so he banished the thought from his mind. She didn't matter, she didn't matter. he repeated in his head several times before turning his full attention back to Ophelia. He thought over what she said about Via and him singing. "Yeah, maybe I'll ask her... she probably has a good voice," he mused out loud. "I don't know. I just hope it doesn't mess anything up in the band... or rumors...," he said, looking mischievously at the girl sitting across from him with a laugh. Not minding the quiet, he sunk back into his mind, not really thinking about it but hating how he did it so subconsciously. Pulling himself out of his mind again like he was battling his own brain, he looked back to Ophelia and laughed easily.

"No, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, nodding at her. "I've been kind of quiet myself... I probably need the same thing," he said thoughtfully, then grinned wide. He tapped the table heavily with his hand, not too violently but still enough to make a noise. "So, I'm thinking the least you could let me do is take you out club hopping tonight," he said with another smirk, watching her easily. This'll lead to a fun night, he thought happily with a lopsided smirk. Waggling his light eyebrows at her, he smiled. "You up for it, Missy?" he asked teasingly, taking a moment once again to admire how pretty she was. Girls' hair, he always had wondered what they did to it to make it all fried and straight... but not Ophelia's. He just wanted to run his fingers through it or twirl a strand of it, it looked so whole and healthy and shiny...

WORDS ,, 1, 230.
TAGGED ,, Ashley (THE SEXED ONE), Oph (THE EVIL ONE)
NOTES ,, All I have to say is that Siphelia is going to be IT. XD
CREDIT ,, PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION[/size]

[OPHELIA M. WHITMAN]

TAKE A BREATH TAKE IT DEEP CALM YOURSELF HE SAYS TO ME IF YOU
PLAY YOU PLAY FOR KEEPS TAKE THE GUN AND COUNT TO THREE • • •
& i'm sweating now moving slow no time to think my turn to go
AND YOU CAN SEE MY HEART BEATING
YOU CAN SEE IT THROUGH MY CHEST

Gingerly placing an index finger in her tea to check the temperature, she listened to the boy (who was getting more charismatic with each word). ‘I never lie’, he said. Licking the tea off from her finger, she thought a subtle ‘Pshh, yeah right’ to herself. Everyone lies. Lying was such a little thing, yet it brought up such problems. Lies are contagious, as well. Pondering it a bit, Ophelia soon came to the conclusion that lies were a lethal pandemic. This pandemic, though, was one Ophelia was immune to, and she could soak in the lies like one does the summer sun, and still not believe them. Skepticism was one thing that she was so very glad she had. Blinking a few times, she looked back to Silas again. “Oh, I doubt I will have to worry.” She tilted her head subtly and forced a smile. “You seem legitimate.” Arching an eyebrow, the girl gave the boy a once-over, just for effect.

“Poor waitress?” She said in mock surprise and a dash of anger. Holing her hand to her heart, she dramatically replied. “No, Silas. Poor me!” She wanted herself to believe that she was suppressing a smile, but she just could not. Not smiling was a thing that she now knew as second nature. This feign grumpiness turned into the real deal as she watched the minute hand turn slowly on the clock. “Yes, yes. She was a slug.” Listening to what Silas wrote his songs about, Ophelia wondered what his implications were. ‘I guess I would write about love if I loved someone’. The words seemed awfully strong and risque. “Your implications are...” she tilted her head, a wry smile creeping over her lips. “very mixed, I must say.” Taking a sip of her tea, she let the steaming drink sear her throat as it went down. Pain. Pain was just another way of showing you that you are still alive and kicking. “Oh, I was just merely curious, Silas.” She was regarding the rather snappy comment about Via he said. Holding up her hands like she did to the waitress, Ophelia closed her eyes lightly and replied. “Your skepticism is really not needed, my friend. I know I may be a gossip columnist and talk with a fair amount of gossip terms, but do not judge me for being fully, irrevocably devoted to it.” Opening her intense eyes and rather coldly staring him down, she resumed. “A little respect,” She held up her index finger and thumb and pressed them together. “Just a little, would be absolutely grand.” After a bout of scowls, she let the smile she wanted to show come out and tease the boy in front of her.

“Oh, Silas, you know I am kidding.” She smiled again, but she surely was not kidding. Joked were for weaklings, who could not take a bout of truth. This thought almost made her scowl again, but she kept the wretched smile on, bluffing like hell. This boy was nice, yes; but a little on-cloud-nine. He was just so... happy. It is not that Ophelia does not like confident, cute boys, she just liked a more of a down to Earth boy. Well, her version of down to Earth and the normal person’s differentiates quite a bit. Her version of it means a tad manic and sarcastic; just like her. But she had never found a guy like this, and could not tell if this really was the type of man for her. Looking back to Silas, she smiled warmly at his offer to go club hopping. “Of course, of course.” Her smirk was one of those unmistakably haughtiness. “I have been up for this, Mister.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “On second thought, I must admit, I was born for this.”

words 640. Sorry for this shitpost.
tagged Silas/Meggerlou
notesHer pertyful outfit.
template PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION ( Thank you, Lauz! Your templates are the bestttt!)

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