Herz App 4/4 HE'S YOURSlisten_toyourJanuary 1 2011, 15:53:28 UTC
Third person sample: He wakes with a start to a sweat and a heat and the vague impression of a dream he…really wishes he could forget.
He doesn’t want to move because it means pulling the covers away and facing the reality of his erection. He can’t stay here and ignore it, because it won’t be ignored. He has to face it-he hates it-and get up, and navigate his way to the shower now, before his parents wake up…
Can’t linger.
Can’t…close his eyes and try to hold onto the last fleeting images of his dream before they fade. That dream, the one he doesn’t want to remember.
But that’s what Herz does, as he often does. He lingers for another minute. Just one. Closes his eyes. Doesn’t realize, as he shifts to get back to comfortable that he makes a noise, under his breath. A pleased, breathy noise.
He can’t…feel it anymore, but he can still almost see it. The wispy, half images his brain’s trying to organize-the fingers and the face and the body connected to that face and he remembers seeing himself and his reactions-and piece them back together into a whole.
A…completely sinful, terrible whole-why is he still lying here? The minute passes; Herz rips the blankets off like a band-aid and stumbles his way out of the room. The bathroom door shuts behind him, and he strips off his pajamas and wishes he could pull off his skin under that. It’s on too tight, possibly an entire size too small.
The bathroom is small, with faded floral wallpaper that hasn’t changed since as far back as he can remember. It used to be the printed bouquets were closer to gold than golden brown, but there is a patch-a square patch directly over the sink-that's still crisp and close-to-new. The mirror used to protect it from the elements and the florescent bulb on the ceiling, but the mirror’s gone now. Been gone for a year and a half. The dreams, though, they have been around for much longer.
The water’s cold. A cliché, but it works. His hand is firm as he fixes his stare down at the drain. It’s quick and quiet and painless. It’s over in less than a minute. Herz stays in the shower for the next twenty-nine, eyes to the drain, reciting verses in his head until he's stamped them down. The lingering images. He mechanically washes while his mind sets to suppressing. The dream doesn't get forgotten, but at least how he feels like he can continue on with his day. The faucet's turned off. He steps out, pats himself dry, and the routine continues until it's brought around, full circle.
Eventually, he does have to crawl back into that bed. The possibility hangs over him--what if he gets it again tonight?--and really, no amount of scripture before hand can save him. Sometimes that just puts it on the forefront, insuring he'll see it, giving his imagination fodder. Believe me, the irony doesn't escape him.
Maybe he can hide from the world, but he can't hide from God, and he can’t hide from himself. First person sample: [While it was entirely by accident, he’s so glad he found you, other person apparently trapped in the exact same situation as him. Not sure if you’re aware, but you’ve made his life by being just as confused, distressed and kidnapped as he is. He’s listened to a few conversations by now and has decided to give one of his own a go. He thinks he has it. He thinks he knows how it works.]
Uhm.
H-hello? Can, uh. I-I don’t know if-i-if-
You can-can-
[His voice is wavering and he swallows, trying to clear it.]
Can…hear me. But. I-I heard…You. I’m-
I’m not…’sposed to-to be here either. I wasn’t. This…wasn’t where I fell asleep, I’m-
Can. Can we maybe…I-I dunno. Help each-other? I dunno how just-
I-I-I-I dunno we could…think. Think of-of something…?
You can find information about your character's appearance to Vertiline here and specific information on their housing here.
Vertiline is not yet open, so please refrain from any IC posting. The mods are planning a special opening event for our first batch of accepted characters and will let everyone know the moment everything is ready to begin!
If you have any additional questions, please feel free to check over our Rules and FAQ once more, or contact a mod with your inquiry.
He doesn’t want to move because it means pulling the covers away and facing the reality of his erection. He can’t stay here and ignore it, because it won’t be ignored. He has to face it-he hates it-and get up, and navigate his way to the shower now, before his parents wake up…
Can’t linger.
Can’t…close his eyes and try to hold onto the last fleeting images of his dream before they fade. That dream, the one he doesn’t want to remember.
But that’s what Herz does, as he often does. He lingers for another minute. Just one. Closes his eyes. Doesn’t realize, as he shifts to get back to comfortable that he makes a noise, under his breath. A pleased, breathy noise.
He can’t…feel it anymore, but he can still almost see it. The wispy, half images his brain’s trying to organize-the fingers and the face and the body connected to that face and he remembers seeing himself and his reactions-and piece them back together into a whole.
A…completely sinful, terrible whole-why is he still lying here? The minute passes; Herz rips the blankets off like a band-aid and stumbles his way out of the room. The bathroom door shuts behind him, and he strips off his pajamas and wishes he could pull off his skin under that. It’s on too tight, possibly an entire size too small.
The bathroom is small, with faded floral wallpaper that hasn’t changed since as far back as he can remember. It used to be the printed bouquets were closer to gold than golden brown, but there is a patch-a square patch directly over the sink-that's still crisp and close-to-new. The mirror used to protect it from the elements and the florescent bulb on the ceiling, but the mirror’s gone now. Been gone for a year and a half. The dreams, though, they have been around for much longer.
The water’s cold. A cliché, but it works. His hand is firm as he fixes his stare down at the drain. It’s quick and quiet and painless. It’s over in less than a minute. Herz stays in the shower for the next twenty-nine, eyes to the drain, reciting verses in his head until he's stamped them down. The lingering images. He mechanically washes while his mind sets to suppressing. The dream doesn't get forgotten, but at least how he feels like he can continue on with his day. The faucet's turned off. He steps out, pats himself dry, and the routine continues until it's brought around, full circle.
Eventually, he does have to crawl back into that bed. The possibility hangs over him--what if he gets it again tonight?--and really, no amount of scripture before hand can save him. Sometimes that just puts it on the forefront, insuring he'll see it, giving his imagination fodder. Believe me, the irony doesn't escape him.
Maybe he can hide from the world, but he can't hide from God, and he can’t hide from himself.
First person sample: [While it was entirely by accident, he’s so glad he found you, other person apparently trapped in the exact same situation as him. Not sure if you’re aware, but you’ve made his life by being just as confused, distressed and kidnapped as he is. He’s listened to a few conversations by now and has decided to give one of his own a go. He thinks he has it. He thinks he knows how it works.]
Uhm.
H-hello? Can, uh. I-I don’t know if-i-if-
You can-can-
[His voice is wavering and he swallows, trying to clear it.]
Can…hear me. But. I-I heard…You. I’m-
I’m not…’sposed to-to be here either. I wasn’t. This…wasn’t where I fell asleep, I’m-
Can. Can we maybe…I-I dunno. Help each-other? I dunno how just-
I-I-I-I dunno we could…think. Think of-of something…?
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Vertiline is not yet open, so please refrain from any IC posting. The mods are planning a special opening event for our first batch of accepted characters and will let everyone know the moment everything is ready to begin!
If you have any additional questions, please feel free to check over our Rules and FAQ once more, or contact a mod with your inquiry.
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