[Discter]

sketch dump I don't know if I will be able to finish these, as I have a lot of things planned after school this week, as well as my cousins visiting over the weekend. Hopefully I can get something done, but who knows.

username: Discter
name: Azúcar - means sugar in spanish
gender: Male

Azúcar stared silently of the grave of his mother, a tiny headstone it's only marker, with only a few daisies on it that he had picked earlier for decoration. 'You promised me you would always be with me, that you would always take care of me... So why did you go?' That was the only question that haunted his brain, pushing out any other thought, demanding to be the only thing in his head and heart. Getting rid of the ugly thought was a struggle, each time he tried to think of something else, it pulled him right back to where he started. He startled at the boom of thunder in the distance, and with a last glance at his mother's grave, he went on his way.

-

"Hey kid, you need a ride home?" Oh, the groundskeeper was talking to him. Or, he at least thought it was the keeper, since the older Kalon had on a hat with the symbol of the cemetery on it, and a shovel with some cleaning supplies. "O-oh, I'll be fine." "You sure? It's gonna get pretty nasty soon, storm's already kicking up a fuss. This really isn't weather to be walking in." "I'll be fine sir." The older Kalon made a face, "I don't believe ya. Look, it's already sprinkling, and the sky is getting even more cloudy.” After a few more seconds of sprinkling, he reluctantly agreed to let the groundskeeper give him a ride home.

-

They were pulling up into the driveway now, and the groundskeeper twisted to study him with one of his milky eyes. "You gonna be safe tonight kid? I know yer mum is in the graveyard, will yer dad be able to take care of you in case the storm gets worse?" He avoided the older Kalons eyes, and mumbled a yes, only to have that stare pierce into him more. "I'm not stupid kid, I know a lie when I hear one, and yer lying right through yer teeth. Tell me truthfully now, you got anybody to take care of you?" Azúcar glanced down at the worn seat in the truck. "No." The older Kalon sighed, "tell ya what kid; you go in and pack your clothes in a suitcase and come back, you can spend the night at my place." Azúcar climbed out of the rusty truck, and scrambled into the small house, trying to dodge the storm.

-

Azúcar had spent the night at the groundske- no, Ayudante's house. Mmm... What was that smell? Was mom cooking bacon? That was a rare treat, better go and eat it before she did! He opened his eyes, and was greeted by a foreign ceiling. Oh, right, he was in the Ayudante's house, and his mother had been dead for a month. He got himself ready, and went downstairs. "Morning kid," Ayudante called as he flipped pancakes in a pan. Azúcar stared at the buffet of breakfast food on the table, and tried to stop himself from crying.

He had ended up crying at so much food, and healthy food too. It was pretty embarrassing, but with usually cereal his only meal for breakfast every day, except the rare birthday treat of bacon. Azúcar knew his mom and him were poor and struggling, but it hadn't hit him that they really were until he saw so much food. After a hug and a large meal, Azúcar was interrogated by Ayudante's fierce gaze. "Do you have anybody taking care of you, kid?" "No, not after my mom died." Ayudante remained grim, "how long do you have that house for?" "Another month."

Ayudante sighed, then offered him a smile, "well, you wanna learn how to take care of a cemetery kid and live here?" Azúcar gaped at him, "y-you.. would take me in? Even though you don't even know me?" Ayudante nodded, and stared at a portrait on the wall. It was him and his wife, Emily. "I've always hated seeing kids on their own, and after my wife passed, that feeling just grew and grew. Seeing you always hanging out at yer moms grave everyday broke my heart, but I thought yer dad or someone else was taking care of you, so I never bothered you. But now that I know yer on yer own, and gonna be running in the streets soon, I'm gonna bother you. You okay staying here?" Azúcar nodded, and ran upstairs to empty his suitcase for his meager possessions to sit in soon.

-

Azúcar scrubbed the grimy headstone, shiny white marble slowly peaking through it's ugly dirt coating. Ayudante was a few headstones away, picking up twigs and leaves off the headstones, throwing them into a black trash bag. "You doing okay over there kid?" "Yes!" After three more rows, Azúcar was allowed a break. Azúcar gained a second wind, suddenly able to run to his mothers grave and tell her about his day.

"I'm doing well, mom. Ayudante is taking good care of me, he helped me with my math homework last night. It was really confusing until he showed me a shortcut, and now it's really easy! I didn't think I could do so well in math, let alone get an A in that class! I cleaned some more headstones now, and they look really pretty. I'm so surprised that they were able to get clean, I thought they would stay dirty forever! Some of those stones go back about thirty years mom, some even older." He stopped his rambling, still digging up some of the weeds that had sprouted. "I'm really happy mom, I never thought I could be happy again after you... Died. But, now I'm doing well in school, and I've found a hobby I enjoy a lot. I've even picked up a new one, skeleton collecting. I feel kinda strange, though. I feel like I'm leaving you behind, I'm flourishing and moving on, and you're here lying in the ground. But, I know that is what you wanted."



1

[mango marmalade,,]

ahhhhh i love

[Sunniedew]

<3 makr

[froghands]

username: mowingmylawn
name: lock
gender: male

- v confident
- loud + obnoxious
- buncho friends
- obsessed w the day of the dead
- works at a printer supply company
- always prettys up their desk
- laughs at basically all the jokes
- obsessed w glowing stuff

[nana]

.

[Rooster Cult]

OH I LOVE!!! might join if I have time

[NE0N-UMBR30N]

marking to watch
may enter idk yet

[iBrevity]

username ;; iBrevity
name ;; Marseille "Marcy" Maddox
gender ;; male

90% of the people Marcy meets can't pronounce his name.

He doesn't blame them; it's on the wrong side of ridiculous, and like most French words, has a noticeable overabundance of vowels. He encourages them to call him Marcy, even though his father says it's girly, even though his mother says coolly over the kitchen table that they gave him a perfectly good name themselves. Older folks know it, recognize it from their adventures abroad maybe, or their basic geography lessons, but the kids he goes to school with definitely don't. He doesn't mind so much; the slow drawl of Marseille is difficult even for him to manage, and he's been saddled with the thing for sixteen years.

His parents have moved them around a lot, his father claiming boredom, his mother trundling along without complaint. Marcy doesn't maintain many friends, unsurprisingly. He's loud and brash and rude, and when he gets excited he gets even louder. Few kids can stand him; most parents, upon coming into contact with the Maddox family, suggest gently to his parents that they send him to therapy. His mother always tuts, looks disapprovingly at Marcy even if he's been behaving perfectly well.

"We've tried," she always says, and they both know it's a lie, Marcy hasn't even been a regular doctor since he was twelve; but he never corrects her, and she never actually makes him go to therapy, so he figures they're square.

He's reluctantly surviving freshman year in Missouri when his mom announces they're moving. Again. They've been here for maybe eight months, and the end of the semester looms some two weeks away. Marcy doesn't expect they'll wait for that, and they don't. He completes his finals in the backseat of the family car, while his parents scroll through real estate ads and try to pick out a house. He narrowly graduates and they move to Oregon, to some tiny town that boasts a three hour drive to the coast and a single high school. Marcy whittles away a lonely summer and starts school with low expectations.

He's in his homeroom, determinedly pushing his glasses back up his nose, when a boy sits beside him. He has startlingly pale hair, pastel blue curls that he has to sweep to the side so he doesn't sit on them; and he smiles warmly at Marcy, and Marcy blinks back.

"You're Marseille, right?" He asks.

Marcy's mouth opens into a perfect o. "What the hell," he says, "I mean, yeah, I am, that's me but--what the hell?"

The boy's open smile fades a little in confusion, and Marcy rushes to add, "No, no, it's cool, that's my name and everything, I just don't really meet anybody that can say it. You know."

He laughs, and offers a dainty hand, and says, "My mother's name is Baozhai. I've gotten used to vowels."

The boy turns out to be Jaibrien "please call me Bree" Jiao and in Marcy's muddled life he's a breath of fresh air. When he realizes Marcy is actually brand new, and not just new to their homeroom, he insists on showing him to his classes. They only share the one, but Bree says his teachers won't mind him being late.

Bree is escorting him to the biology lab when he stops suddenly and turns an interesting shade of red. Marcy blinks, twists around. He's long-legged and still growing, and Bree is pretty short, so he's capable of seeing over the boy's head the stranger who has startled him. It's an older kid, a senior maybe, with a mass of dark blue hair and a leather jacket. He looks like trouble. He looks like exactly the sort of guy Marcy would expect someone like Bree to have a crush on.

"Oh my god," he says, putting two and two together, and Bree flushes darker and hurries him into his next class.

"I'll see you for English," he says, and then bolts out the door.

Marcy scrutinizes this new classroom, nudges his well-worn backpack a little higher up. The students are separated into teams, two of them seated at each station; and he immediately dismisses the few in the front, where there are empty seats but noticeably unfriendly faces. He follows the wall to a table in the back, where he sits beside a student bent over their notebook.

Marcy is not given to silence. When he's nervous, or excited, or anything in between, he fills the rushing of his thoughts with his words; and so when the boy says nothing, Marcy scooches his seat forward so it squeals on the tile and stage-whispers, "You come here often, handsome?"

The boy finally looks up. Marcy reevaluates their assumption of boy; their features are ambiguous, their navy hair tied back with a ribbon, their large dark eyes surprisingly intimidating. Marcy sees how they're sitting with their feet folded on the highest rung of the chair and realizes that they're really short; five foot maybe, tucked into a lavender sweater and white washed jeans. They look harmless if you just glance at them.

Marcy clears his throat while their gaze steadily bores a hole into his forehead, and says, "Um, I'm Marcy. I'm new. I hope no one sits here because I really don't want to move and honestly, jesus, can you like, blink or something? What is this? Are we nemesises now?"

"It's 'nemeses', Frenchie," they say, and Marcy's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. They turn back to their studying, and there is no further conversation; but Marcy keeps looking at them through class, and he's buzzing to ask Bree a dozen questions.

He gets through the first day with minimal fighting and when he trudges home he's surprised to realize he's actually excited for school tomorrow. Bree hadn't known much about his new bio partner, only that their name is Zyron and they're a foster kid; but there's nothing Marcy loves more than a mystery. For once, he's glad his parents decided to move.

[Alihorse]

username:
name:
gender:

-impress me!-

I may try?

[Gaycko]

Marking