your kingdom's crumbling, (pg-13)

[CHANEL DESPERAUX]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: bottom;][classy=icon][/classy][classy=pnotes]tag: toshi! <:[/classy] Guess what, another game over I got burned, but you're the real loser I don't know why I've wasted my time with you You're bad news, a history repeater You can't trust a serial cheater you're good at hooking up but, you suck at love

[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;] Stupid piece of shit. Ever the elegant thought. It was the first words to come to his mind though, he thought. There was no way to go around it or any way to think about it. Fact was, his car wasn't the most useful of devices in transportation. Especially considering the fact that walking - and he loathed the very mode of transportation because it was atrocious to do to his heels - was becoming more and more of a reliable way to get around the god forsaken town. In other words, he didn't like it. He didn't like this town. He didn't like his car. And so help him, he refused as in refused to ever walk around because he had to. He had a car for a reason and so help him if he wasn't going to use it. But naturally, that laid with the prior thought. His car was stupid and useless. He loathed it. So with his father - or should he say mother? - 's insistence, he had decided to take the piece of junk into the dealership. He couldn't see why he couldn't just get a nice new car but apparently his father wanted to teach him the value of money. Or something stupid like that anyway. He couldn't see the point in that. It wasn't like they didn't have enough money what with who his father had been dating prior to their move. The man had been stupid enough to entrust such a large amount of money to the two of them and expect them not to take off? Like, really. Some people just were oh so stupid. Like his car. Again. Whatever. There was obviously no other such reason that he had arrived at Gleeful's Auto Sales otherwise - he made a note to insult the name of the dealership later. Gleeful. He hated that word more than he hated the word crusty. Though with that said, he wasn't particularly fond of anything in the first place. Ugh, whatever. He didn't care anyway. He wouldn't have even been here if he didn't have to watch the guy fix his car. After all, he didn't know if the guy was going to try and pull out his breaks or something. Definitely not. It wasn't like he wanted to die or anything. Although, he supposed a lot of people definitely wanted to see that happen. Whatever. They all hated him just for telling the truth. He said it as he saw it. And they just weren't grateful at all. It couldn't be helped though, he thought. That was how life was and people merely should have understood that. They could say it was an invasion of privacy or whatever. But if they really wanted things to stay private, they should have done a better job at hiding it. It really was just oh so public what he found out these days. Manicured nails tapped at the white keys of his keyboard, the pink haired man glancing up every so often to meet the eyes of the mechanic set to work on his car. He wasn't sure why he had yet to come across that fine ass, but he supposed it might have been because he had never really bothered with grease monkeys. It wasn't like he bothered with his car until now anyway. So he didn't have a reason to fix it. But apparently it had a whole bunch of issues that hadn't been disclosed to him or his father until recent. He merely continued typing away on the laptop set into his lap, glancing up every so often to run his eyes over the form of the other. "Are you almost done with my car yet? I have places to be." What? Just because this guy was hot didn't mean that he was going to be any nicer to him. What was it that they said anyway? If he couldn't handle him at his worst, then he didn't deserve his best? ...ugh. Whatever. That was stupid too.

MADE BY JUMPSTART

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[RICKY ORTIZ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500;] [atrb=align, middle][classy=box][classy=sicon][/classy][classy=txt] Poor Ricky bby, having to work. >> Lilly/Chanel[/classy][/classy] [style=background-color:A8A8A8; border-left: 3px solid #CD0000; border-right: 3px solid #CD0000; padding:10px;]Alcohol. Ricky needed something to stop him from killing the owner of Gleeful's Auto Sales and the rest of that damn family. The nerve of some people. Ricky had been called, woken rudely from wonderful mid-day nap, by the owner, and was told to get his butt in the shop for some customer who wanted her car fixed. Groggily, before he had realized what he had okayed, Ricky said he was fine with coming in on his day off. HIS DAY OFF. They are lucky they woke me up from a nap... Ricky inwardly grumbled as he pulled his goggles over his head. His hangover sucked, but there wasn't much he could do about it besides pop some Tylenol and walk to the shop. He had left his car at the shop the last time he had been there... or was it the time before that? Who knew. He had been in a drunken slumber since then. Regardless, Ricky was slowly getting accustomed to the walk from the apartment building to the garage. Invigorating, even. With jeans slouching just past his hips and a dirty shirt thrown on in the bolt to get ready, Ricky cut through an alley that took him from Main street all the way to second street, and then slowly he walked around the blocks until he hit third street, and finally his place of occupation, Gleeful's Auto Sales. After having a chat with Mr. Gleeful himself, Ricky ambled back to the garage, where some strange lady with her electronics was sitting. Ricky sighed. It was going to be one of those ladies, wasn't it? There never failed to be one or two a year, someone who needed their vehicle fixed but knew nothing about it. Instead, they insisted on hovering, trying to figure out if Ricky was really fixing said car. Did they not trust the hispanic Mechanic? He wasn't working hard just to fool them! I work so I can get the hell out of there later! Pulling on stained gloves, Ricky lowered the goggles onto his face and got to work. A leak in the carburetor for one, and then there was a short in the engine. Fuck. Long fix. It would take an hour or two at least, but Ricky had been too lazy to tell the lady that. He just wanted to work in silence. Too bad I forgot my earbuds. Those certainly would have made the job go faster. But no, he would have to listen to the lady and the car dying over and over in front of him. A symphony of Chaos. Ricky snorted when the lady spoke. Where did she have to be? A knitting convention? Somewhere to go get money from some guy? He turned around, leaning on her car and lazily pointing a wrench at her face. Her... odd face. "You're not going to be able to go anywhere unless you stop pestering me. Look, you should've brought this in earlier, it'll be another hour or so. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Mr. Gleeful, not his lowly mechanic." Ricky sighed and turned back around, sticking his hands back into the engine to unfasten some bolts. Lord help him now if the lady kept talking. [/style] coded by electric of gs

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[CHANEL DESPERAUX]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: bottom;][classy=icon][/classy][classy=pnotes]tag: toshi! <: chanel's going to get hit, i can feel it.[/classy] Guess what, another game over I got burned, but you're the real loser I don't know why I've wasted my time with you You're bad news, a history repeater You can't trust a serial cheater you're good at hooking up but, you suck at love

[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;] His eyes roamed over the stranger's form, taking in each and every last detail as his fingers continued to fly across the keys embedded into his laptop. He highlighted a few of the subjects, reminding him to find out just exactly what this guy was hiding from him. Most people had secrets to hide and secrets to keep, he thought. There was no way that the other didn't have some of his own. Even he, Chanel Desperaux, had his own secrets to keep. The most evident of these being the very fact that he was the blogger that knew everything and everyone before they had done so much as set foot into town. So to speak anyway. Having people run around and tell him things was oh so helpful. But he supposed that perhaps playing people this way was hardly a good thing. It kept him entertained at least, he thought. It kept people on their toes. Kept them questioning each other, wondering who exactly disclosed such secrets to him. Trust was a petty word. Something he loved to exploit more than anything else. People were more like play things, he thought. He glanced up from the screen again, his eyes following the other's every move silently. He was no different from the rest in the end. Just as everyone else was. He lifted the laptop slightly, adjusting the edge of his pale pink skirt and crossing his legs promptly. This guy really needed to hurry up and fix his car. It really was annoying to have to wait all this time just to get the damn thing fixed so he could go anywhere. It was hard enough just getting the shit to the garage to begin with, he thought. He didn't have all day. He had people to see, things to talk about. Normal socialite things. He nearly laughed at the thought then, rolling his eyes slightly as his eyes returned to the screen briefly. It really was so surprising who constituted as a 'socialite' in this stupid town. A little fifteen year old girl? Yeah. Sure. He really was so scared. Please. He had seen scarier things in Vegas and lord knows that he may have very well been mentally scarred. Because naturally, he wouldn't have let anyone hurt him physically. He was obviously too gorgeous for that. He nearly jumped when the wrench was pointed at him, an annoyed expression crossing his face for a moment. Did he not know who he was pointing that dirty thing at? A paying customer! And on top of that, Chanel! He was Chanel! How dare this man not know who he was. What did he do? Grow up under a rock? Tch, chances were that he had. A shiver rolled down his spine, the expression faltering in favor of a more pleasant one. Now, now. He couldn't lose his cool. He drew in a deep breath - cringing at the smell of sweat and motor oil - before his painted lips turned into a very slight smile as he moved to lift his hands and shut the laptop screen quietly. "Even if I had brought it in earlier, I'd still have to wait the same amount of time." He quickly replied, tapping his manicured nails against the cover of his laptop a bit irritated still. "And that's aside the point. Do you really think that fat tub of lard would be able to really do anything?" He snorted, rolling his eyes slightly as he moved to prop his head up with his hands gently. It wasn't like 'Mr. Gleeful' could do anything anyway. From what he had heard, his son wasn't exactly the most polite of kids. And the guy had the spine of a sponge if he bent to the will of his child. At least his father had done a better job than that. He had talked him out of getting that perm. Lord help him if his hair had to be that curly until the end of time. Loose, big curls was just how he liked it and needed it. "He couldn't be more useful to me than you are. But fine. Whatever. Just hurry up. The smell in here is making me gag.

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MADE BY JUMPSTART

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[RICKY ORTIZ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:500;] [atrb=align, middle][classy=box][classy=sicon][/classy][classy=txt] Poor Ricky bby, having to work. >> Lilly/Chanel[/classy][/classy] [style=background-color:A8A8A8; border-left: 3px solid #CD0000; border-right: 3px solid #CD0000; padding:10px;]Ricky was at his limits with this prissy, socialite lady and her junker car. Well, it wasn't a bad car, but it was in a terrible shape. Plus, the way the woman looked at him as if he was prey or something, now that was just straight up weird. Did women usually look at him like that? Well, Kendra did once, but that one was entirely his fault. This lady, she was new in town. She probably came while you were in rehab, you dolt. Guess you're the 'new' one. This lady still didn't appreciate how hard a mechanic's job was. You had to have an intricate knowledge of several different machines, their parts, how they all work together. It was like being a technician for a plane or being fucking Bill Gates or something. You had to know your shit. And then, whenever a new one came out, you had to know more about that as well, and then there were the tools to master, the checklists the intricate problems. It was really too unfortunate that customers only considered him a grease monkey from over the border, because he could bring the automotive traveling in this town to a standstill in one night if he wanted to. After all, he was the only mechanic so far. Mr. Gleeful had limited knowledge of the machines he was selling, the ol' lard. Customers should be glad that he even came back after rehab, not threaten him that they'll get him fired or buried or other, unpleasant ends. He'd already seen some of the worst things happen to a human, so it didn't bother him that much. Still, Ricky always left work angry because of ignorant customers and how they thought they were better. This weird young lady was no different. Another stupid girl trying to tell him how to do his job. Ricky was quick to correct his customer. "No, if you had brought it in earlier, your carburateur filters wouldn't be warped. I'm going to have to pry those out! That's like, another hour you have to sit here because you didn't bring it in earlier. See how that works? It's called consequences.

[/color] Ricky rolled his eyes as he worked, trying to use his tools to even get down to those filters. It was going to be a long day. The customer did say something about Mr. Gleeful's incompetence, and Ricky cracked a smile while his back was turned to the lady. At least she recognized that much. But then she turned sour again right after that, getting all high in her horse about wanting her car.

"Mr. Gleeful is a great boss, but he needs someone who knows the intricacies of an engine cavity. That's where I come in."[/color] Ricky turned around, leaning back on the lady's car to deliver his last line. Hopefully, he would shut her up for good.

"You know, I bet I could hurry up a lot more if some socialite prick wasn't trying to whine her way to her car faster! What's wrong, don't want daddy to know what you've done? Will you get your nail-polish taken away? Give me a break, chica."[/color]


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coded by electric of gs

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