empathtaite-blog

[empathtaite-blog]

OOC

Hey so my brother’s in the hospital and there’s some other stuff going on so I don’t really have the mindset to roleplay or the time, so I’ll be taking a hiatus until about June 8. 

[empathtaite-blog]

heartlessxhunter replied to your post: If you could make one phone call to anyone right...

Sounds like a waste of a phone call if they wouldn’t pick up.

Why would you send this? I’m assuming the question is hypothetical. If I could call.

[empathtaite-blog]

ballisticsfae:

The band broke up—Douglas kept saying it as if it were the truth. As if Margo didn’t intimately know the reports of Douglas’s death. He denied everything Margo had come to know, and there was no way she’d accept that. She couldn’t. She knew what she’d read, what she’d heard, what she’d held conversation of her own about. Even Douglas Taite himself couldn’t stop her from trying to piece together the puzzle. And she wasn’t about to just stand there and let him make a fool of her, deny everything she was saying. “No,” she spoke firmly, anger slowly bubbling into her body. “Listen, I know what I–you were dead. You’ve been dead for years.” She glanced away, not knowing where to look. Her body tensed for a moment as her brain tried to find some kind of an answer. There had to be one, right?

“Only my great-aunt calls me Doug.” The words barely hit Margo’s ears, but she had to laugh at them. As if any of that even mattered. “Okay,” she looked back at Douglas, “Can I call you Doug still? It feels weird calling you Douglas.” Douglas Taite was the cool guitarist Margo knew, this man was something else. He wasn’t Douglas at all, he didn’t feel like it. Silence fell over them again and Margo turned once more; if he didn’t fake his death then why is he here? It must have been that he was lying but Margo felt a sharp honesty exude off his words. Slowly, her eyes fell on to the pictures along Douglas’s desk. Pictures of him and a little girl, picture of that little girl by herself–smiling. It didn’t take Margo long to put that story together in her head. “You have a daughter?” The Douglas Taite she knew didn’t have one, and he didn’t seem the type of harbour a secret child. But of course, he also didn’t seem the type to die and come back yet here his very image was—staring her down. “How old is she? Is she–Is she why you faked your death?” At least that made a little more sense.

Margo turned back, finally having the courage to look at Douglas again. “The internet?” She shrugged, “You guys definitely wrote these songs, unless the band plagiarized them. That’s your voice and your guitar.” Margo paused, taking a breath in and then one out slowly. “I never got to see any of your shows live in Ashford before you passed. And then the band really took off but I never wanted to go their concerts.” It was an odd thing to focus on, but it was all Margo could think about now. How she’d missed out, and how her chance to get that back was slowly slipping away too.

For someone who absolutely hated confrontation, who had spent a lot of his life avoiding it whenever he could, Douglas felt that he came across an unfair amount of it. Uncomfortable situations just seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was at times like this that he wished he were more like his older sister: self-possessed, confident, and a little disdainful of other people. “Look,” he started, then stopped when he felt the anger rising up, faint but unmistakable. This situation just kept getting better and better. Maybe, he thought sarcastically, The goddamn horse will show up and make it a real party. 

He followed her line of sight down to the pictures of Ava placed around his desk. He’d brought in the first when he felt lonely at work: a picture of her sitting in her high chair celebrating her second birthday. People had seemed to like him having pictures of her around, they seemed to be more comfortable around him; like no matter how distant he could be he was still human. The rest had accumulated over time: birthdays, vacations, artwork she was particularly proud of. “That’s my daughter, yeah. She’s five, nearly six.” He looked back up at her, frowning. “Again, I didn’t fake my death. But one reason the band broke up is because I didn’t have the time for it anymore. I had to take care of her.” One of the drawbacks of being a single parent, it was a lot harder to find the time to do other things you wanted. Although the band had never appealed to him after Caoimhe.

“No, I know that’s us, but I’ve never sung that.” He stopped and stared at her. Ashford. He remembered Reed’s message, the people who stopped by complaining about things being wrong, and the graffiti near his house saying ASHFORD RULES, ASHKENT DROOLS. The pieces clicked. “Oh. You’re...from Ashford?” It was a nonsensical answer but it somehow made the rest of this situation make sense. “I’m- I live in Ashkent. Where we are now.”

A Band Omen || Douglas & Margo

[empathtaite-blog]

sciencebanshee:

[pm] Non-human animals aren’t capable of murder, as defined by the law. Or homicide as defined by forensic pathology. But they can kill, obviously. Horses can be particularly dangerous due to their size and power. I don’t doubt that you witnessed a horse killing someone, but I wouldn’t call it murder. Are you sure you heard it talk

If it did talk, what did it say? And are you unharmed in all of this?

[pm] Jesus Christ, shut the hell up. Yeah I know that. All I’m saying is that this thing talked to us. I was with someone else, I’m sure her name is on the police  report if it’s so hard for you to believe with just one testimony.

It...didn’t say very much. Just checked on us. I’m fine, my arm is a little hurt but that’s from me falling, nothing else.

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If you could make one phone call to anyone right now, who would it be and what would you say?

[user almost deletes this message]

There was someone very important to me who’s gone now. There’s a lot I want to say to her. A lot of questions I have that she never got to answer.

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What is one thing you feel your life is missing?

Safety. Happiness. I miss being in love. I mean I’m still in love but I miss being in a relationship and loving someone and having them love you back.

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douglas & caoimhe:

i’m still in love with her. i don’t think i’m ever going to stop being in love with her.

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Are you easy to love?

I...don’t know. I think that I used to be. I know she was happy with me, that she loved me. But I don’t know anymore. There might not be enough to me.

I hope so.

[empathtaite-blog]

Something you are scared of losing?

My daughter.

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How are babies made?

What? Who is asking this? Either you should already know or you shouldn’t be on the internet. Or at least not talking to adults online.

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do you have a type?

I like people with a good sense of humor. I don’t think there’s anything more important than being able to have a good time when you’re together. My girlfriend was I also think having similar taste is good. Music and books and stuff like that. And I mean, clearly now I would need them to get along with my kid. That’s priority one for me.

[empathtaite-blog]

cassidydanvers:

“Well, that’s not so bad,” she reconsidered, “plus the bond over terrible music acts is a sacred one,” she nodded solemnly. “Bonds you for life,” Cassie crossed her middle and index finger and smiled.

Not even the whole movie. That definitely sounded like the worst of the two. “That must be fun,” she grimaced. “Maybe she’ll move onto the next thing soon,” she offered. “Maybe she’ll get into the one with the lizard and the hair, or that one with the moose and the snowman.” Their names escaped her then. “I had an Aladdin phase,” she remembered. “Had all the merchandise, dolls, t-shirts, everything. Clearly it must’ve drove my parent’s nuts, because I probably did the exact same thing. The tape wore out I remember that. Think I vaguely remember being into the Power Rangers for a while after that then everybody moved on to something else pretty quick.” She hadn’t changed all that much, now she played albums to death instead.

“An empty box,” she nodded, “some guy is usually chasing me with it. Occasionally it gets thrown at me,” she turned to face him. “I mean, I assume it’s empty. I don’t know what’s in the box. Could be nothing or it could have the members of Hanson hiding in it, who knows. I never take the chance to find out. I just take off like a track runner.” Or she tried to. Running in dreams almost always felt similar to running along those walkways at the airport going the wrong way. “I have no idea. There’s some sort of psychology attached to all that stuff,” she shrugged, “There’ll be a meaning there somewhere, maybe I have a deadly fear of packing supplies.” She trailed off, she didn’t want to be one of those people who talked about their dreams and bored the hell out of people. Or talked about their chakra being out of line or whatever it was.

She considered his suggestion as a band name for a moment and grinned back, “I can see it,” she widened her eyes, “that’s actually kind of genius, like a built in critic shield. Anybody said they suck and they could just say, well,” she gestured up to the invisible sign, “it was already right there in the name buddy,” she tapped the side of her head with her index finger “smart.” She fidgeted with her glass without taking a drink. “Topping the charts,’ I like the optimism there.” Cassie looked back towards him as he offered to buy her something else. “Uh…” she looked at her glass. “Sure,” she answered after a few beats. Cassie propped her forearms on the bar, leaned forward and looked at her options for something different and maybe slightly weaker, “okay, I’ll take Blue Moon if you’re buying.”

Douglas nodded. “She likes the old ones. She likes the art styles.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never raised another kid, but I think they’re usually into music and wacky characters side characters. Not her, she pauses it and just looks at the art.” Their house was filled with her own drawings of scenes from movies, with vibrant colors and disproportionate people. As much as he was sick of hearing the songs and voices over and over again, he did like the way she was when she was working on art. She seemed comfortable and stable in a way that she usually wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what a five-going-on-six year old had to be anxious about, but she was calm when she was drawing.

He winced at the mention of merchandise. “I’ve been lucky so far. I have to keep her in paper and crayons but at least she doesn’t want all the expensive shirts and toys. I’d be broke in a week.” He shook his head. “Too bad streamed videos can’t wear out, that option isn’t really open anymore.”

He leaned his face on one hand. “Nah, it’s gotta go deeper than that. Dreams mean something, or at least that’s what my sister tells me. Let me try to remember some of the stuff she talks about.” Erin was always telling him things about the meaning of dreams or crystals or whatever else she picked up. He often thought she’d have been better off feeling other people’s emotions. Would probably be really into it. “The emptiness probably means that something is unfulfilled and the box is like,” he rolled his eyes and made a face. “You feel boxed-in? I don’t know, I zone out a lot when she gets to dream meanings.”

Douglas leaned across the bar and managed to get the girl’s attention away from her phone. She came back with the drink and Douglas handed it the money over and smiled at Cassie. “Well? What would you name your band if you had one?”

All Around Me Are Familiar Faces || Douglas & Cassidy

[empathtaite-blog]

openbook-izel:

[pm] [long pause due to mini rant elsewhere] Um, yeah. I do have an alarm system of sorts.

[pm] Okay, I’ll be there soon.

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sciencebanshee:

[pm] Thank you. 

I experienced a talking horse once myself. But I was affected by mushrooms at the ti Never mind Is this a hypothetical, or do you mean to say you’ve encountered or heard of an encounter with an actual murderous, talking horse?

[pm] It sounds ridiculous every time Two nights ago. I was coming out of the store with someone and we got mugged and this horse showed up out of nowhere and just smashed him into horrible tiny pieces killed him. And then the rest is what I said.

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openbook-izel:

[pm] I… can’t guarantee the Puca wouldn’t show up, it’s as likely here as anywhere else. I understand that.

[pm] Okay. I guess it’s either go there or wait here. And I don’t have an alarm system that could keep something like that out. Is now okay?

[empathtaite-blog]

openbook-izel:

[pm] Like, she’s quite small, right? My store/house isn’t like child safed in the way people with kids have safe houses, but there’s nothing dangerous she could reach while supervised. Otherwise it’s as safe as anywhere else [d: I need to get that checked out]. I wouldn’t want her in the section these books are in, but we can take the relevant books out of that section and set you up where you can watch her.

[pm] I’m not worried about her getting into something dangerous. She’s good about stuff like that. Just.. I meant I didn’t want the Puca showing up. It’s bad enough that I send her off to school every day. I mean, it’s not bad, school is important. I just worry.

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sciencebanshee:

[pm] I’ll certainly have my nose in the remains, too. Uh, metaphorically speaking. And not. Smell can be an important indicator of Mostly. Please do keep me abreast of any developments with the interviews, if you can. I’ll be penning an announcement about the remains if anything is out of the ordinary. More out of the ordinary than “normal,” that is.

This thief sounds thorough. But there’s always a trace. Locard’s exchange principle.

[pm] I’ll keep an eye on them for you.

So, you’ve always been one for logical solutions. Uh. Do you think you have one for a horse appearing downtown, stomping someone to death, and then speaking? Anything that would make sense.