we need time, only time&&open!

[bookie]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 460px; background-color: #f7f7f7; padding: 8px;] WILL YOU BE the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned? tag: n/a notes: n/a lyrics: welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance credits: rayah! of BTN! AS USUAL, NOBODY WAS IN THE STATIONARY STORE. And, as usual, there was a lone figure situated among the tightly packed shelves that were so close together, people could barely get in or out. But Janie was used to it; this stationary store was cheap, close to her home, and, most of all, rather empty, which she appreciated. It meant she had full leave to be as loud as she possibly could, and that was something she really enjoyed doing; it seemed that, even when she didn't mean to make noise, she did. The journalist leaned against the shelf that was behind her and, reaching her arms up uncomfortably, sifted through the shelf of notepads. Oh, she loved the smell of new paper. It was so... familiar. Like a dream that you tried to hold on to but it kept slipping out of your fingers. Like a memory from a past long forgotten that induced a pleasant sense of euphoria and nostalgia every time to thought of it, although you couldn't really pinpoint it exactly. That was the sort of feeling new paper gave to Janie. Outside, people bustled and carried on with their humdrum lives, going to the 'normal' stores - or what was regarded as the norm, anyway. Janie didn't keep up with this sort of stuff. The redhead hummed absentmindedly as the old lady at the desk sorted through her things, mumbling a bit to herself. That was Meredith, and she was surprisingly good with money for such an old lady; the back room was always empty, and there were no other employees. Or at least none that Janie knew of. There were pens and paper to be got; pencils and erasers and all manner of wonderful things. Her wallet, pressed tight against her thigh in her pocket, jingled slightly as she moved, and Janie felt a little smile twitch at the corners of her mouth inadvertently; the feeling of being able to buy things was always nice. But there wasn't much to brag about to others when all you had was stationary. Oh, well. It instilled a feeling of pride inside her, and that was what counted, right?

[hunter aaron parkman]

ITS A LITTLE BIT FRIGHTENING

WE MIGHT AS WELL BE PLAYING WITH LIGHTENING

a message from his mother required hunter to get a simple card that expressed his gratitude for the money that was given to him by his grandparents—not that he actually needed funds of any kind. the male was more than capable of living off his large inheritance for the rest of his life and still have money left over for the offspring that he would no doubt produce one day. the store was organized into sections and hunter followed the signs to the greeting card area but was baffled by how many kinds of cards laid before him. flowers, weird caricature of what he believed was meant to be a cute cartoon, strange jokes and nothing that was fitting to actually send to his grandmother. the woman was high society, not the bottom of a trash bin where most of these cards belonged in his opinion. he stayed positioned in the same spot though, not wanting to actually move and be thrown into an assortment of colored pages for scrapbooks and never find his way out once more. dull was the first word that came to mind when he picked up the least offensive looking thank you card but when flipping the cover open, a song came through the spine of card and tumbled out of hunter’s hand in fright, ”jesus christ!”

[/i] he exclaimed, bending down to peel the card off the ground and slid it back into it’s rightful place. brushing a hand through his hair, he never thought that he would actually be frightened by a card but as his heartbeat slowed to a normal resting rate, the male continued to browse. nothing was jumping out at him and he was tempted to reach into his pocket and just call his grandmother himself instead of giving the formal card but he was well aware of the tongue lashing that he would receive by his own mother if that was to occur. raising an eyebrow, he turned his head and spotted a rather attractive female in the aisle and his instincts took over in an instant. he took two steps closer to her before clearing his throat, ”excuse me miss.”[/i], his accent shining through, though born and raised in the united states. ”would it be too much trouble to ask for your opinion on something, it’s for my grandmother..”[/i], deciding that adding a little reasoning as well as pulling at the heartstrings was a good way to go about this. the male was always picking up girls in a club or the grocery store and he was curious if he was able to do it in something as absurd as a stationary store.[/div][/center]

(BOOKIE/JANIE , 445 , TSHIRT&JEANS , HAHA HE'S SUAVE.)

[bookie]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 460px; background-color: #f7f7f7; padding: 8px;] WILL YOU BE the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned? tag: whoever notes: anything here lyrics: welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance credits: rayah! of BTN! SHE ALMOST FORGOT HERSELF AMONG THE AISLES OF THE STORE. Dreamily sorting through new stationary and breathing in the comforting smell, it took Janie a while to realize that she was being addressed, and was obliged to answer the man now standing next to her in the aisle, looking through cards. "Hmm?" she murmured, turning her head and snapping slowly out of the daze that the stationary had induced. What she saw was a good-looking male with an American accent, and it took the redhead a while to register just what he'd said. It took her longer yet to comprehend the fact that there was actually someone else in the shop; at the desk, Meredith looked rather frightened, but Janie was busy figuring out an appropriate response to such a sudden question. Pulling a sweet smile onto her face, Janie moved over to him and tilted her head a little. "Well, which one were you thinking about?" Her voice took on a pleasant tone; it was always good to meet new people, and even better to make good first impressions, even if she ended up disliking this man. "My name's Janie, by the way. Nice to meet you."