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Post by dahlia huntington leigh on Jun 17, 2010 3:49:32 GMT -5
THESE SOUTHERN CONSTELLATIONS GOT ME SO DIZZY. [/color] [/font] You’d think as a Los Angeles native Dahlia would be used to the aggravating traffic. You’d think she’d be good at staying sane when the sun grew warm against the hood of her little car. You’d think she’d stay sane when an old Indian woman cut her off in her expensive Mercedes. But nope. No way. Da hlia wasn’t good at staying sane, and as the temperature grew and the asshole behind her parked closer and closer to her bumper she became more and more agitated. It was funny to see the normally bubbly little redhead turn sour because of someone forgetting their blinker or dodging incoming traffic. It was the only case where she would feel her own blood boil because otherwise Dahlia was always smiling. She was constantly being the happy go lucky tatted up girl that people liked..
But find her in her yellow old VW bug and it would be a different story. She clenched her tattooed fists tighter around the old fashioned wheel. ”SERIOUSLY? FUCKING SERIOUSLY?” Her voice was somewhat soft spoken normally and bright, almost matching the color of her hair, but at that moment it sounded so rough and rigid. The irony was pretty obvious. An extremely tattooed girl playing As I Lay Dying who was cussing up a storm in a little pale yellow VW bug… At least her best friend understood her. Shit She better, since the two rarely ever parted. Dahlia thought back about Char and her temperature cooled. She had just driven from stopping by work, a strip club about 3 miles away, and now she was headed out to lunch with her freshly written paycheck tucked in her studded clutch bag. Dahlia raked her fingers, coated in rings, through her long red hair. ”… Don’t do it.” She muttered to an oncoming car, which was trying to cut in front of her. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but in a split second she was speeding to avoid a car and after cutting a couple people off she had turned onto a slower road and rammed right into another car… She froze. The whining came first. Dahlia didn’t want this.. or need this at the moment. Her head fell against the wheel as she told herself that taking those anger management classes would’ve helped. Dahlia’s steps out of the car were slow and drudging as she found herself in front of the small wreck. “well.. Shit.” The young woman looked down at herself, taking note that she was fine. She still had her arms, her hips, and those long legs that made her money. Phew. Thank god she didn’t lose anything vital. What about the opposite driver…When her dark bronze eyes landed on him she didn’t really know what to say except for that.. well.. fuck… also thank god she had dressed cute that day. Honestly Dahlia rather would run into a sexy man than some old Asian one any day, and maybe just watching him would make this situation so much easier.
DIZ BE FOR KATIE. DIZ IS 506 WORDS. DIZ IS HORRIBLE. MY B.
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Post by carlos ray moreno on Jun 17, 2010 4:37:55 GMT -5
nothing but the sound of soft singing came from the vintage mustang, the music only a murmur competing with the man's voice. he sang quietly, but passionately the words that had come to his mind again and again. "if only she saw what i could see, she takes a moment to stumble to her feet, if i was there to hold her hand, if only she saw what i saw she’d get out of this one, she’d get out of here." he wasn't sure who this 'she' was exactly, but the words kept coming to him time after time, and he had even managed to tap up a beat on the old, peeling steering wheel. carlos had been at this music business for a while now - he'd started when he was a sophomore in high school, and here he was, twenty three years of age, still going at it. he was somewhat successful now, on his on little tour to a few choice places before he'd go to europe; or some place exotic. all he knew was he was getting out of LA, no matter what. he'd been here way too long, and he was tired of seeing the same streets, the same people. he needed something new; something different.
he knew there were going to be a lot of things he'd miss about los angelos; but the horrible rush hour was not one of them. he'd been sitting in the same goddamn spot for almost an hour now, and he was at the point where he was about to go ahead and shut the car off, instead of letting it idle for so long. but the heat was enough to keep him from doing so as he cranked up the ancient air conditioner, not finding it's blasting enough to keep him cool as sweat beaded from his forehead. quickly, he put the car in park and looked around, making sure that he wouldn't have to go any where before reaching down to the brim of his shirt and yanking it up and over his head before tossing it in the backseat of his car. after he had successful placed the car back into drive - so he could inch closer to the car ahead of him - he turned up the radio, remaining unamused by the crappy music played on all the stations. all they played in LA were booty grinding beats that the ghetto girls from down the block loved to dance outside their houses to. the image made him cringe, suddenly making him resent the idea of returning home to his small apartment in downtown LA. of course he had money, but that didn't mean he was going to spend it all foolishly. no, his mama and his abuela taught him better then that. he was saving up to buy them both a nice house - maybe even in the hamptons - because he wanted his women to have the best. he'd already promised his abuela a new viper, he might as well throw in a house. he chuckled at the idea of his tiny, fragile grandmother behind the wheel of a monstrously charged car. but his laughter was soon brought to a halt as he felt his car jerk ahead - just barely missing the car ahead of him. suddenly - as he realized what was happening - he felt his anger rise as he slammed his hands down on the steering wheel, pissed that some pendejo had managed to rear end him. "AYE LOS GRINGOS ESTAN STUPIDOS." he cursed, quickly opening the door of his mustang and getting out, putting a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes as he searched for the culprit. "HIJO DE PUTA! QUE TE CREES ESTAS HACIENDO? TU NO SABES MANEJAR?" he screamed at the other driver, not even daring to look at the damage done to his darling car. he shook his head angrily, looking down at his chest and frowning at how fast the heat had caught him - making him nearly glisten with the hot summer heat. he looked up, finally realizing who he was talking to and let his mouth drop slightly before blinking a few times and then regaining composure. "aye chica? are you drunk?" he questioned, switching back to english considering the girl he had just cussed out in spanish was completely and totally white. he felt guilt wash over him, but he stood his ground, trying not to glower at the redhead who stood before him.
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Post by dahlia huntington leigh on Jun 17, 2010 5:06:29 GMT -5
THESE SOUTHERN CONSTELLATIONS GOT ME SO DIZZY. [/color] [/font] It would be hard to explain the feelings that washed over her so quickly at the sound of a rough and agitated voice. At first she had stayed calm at the sight of him. Dahlia’s nerves had already taken a hold of her at first. Not going to lie, she found him extremely attractive, but once words flew out of his mouth her mindset changed and she was set onto attack mode. How fast he came at her, shading his eyes and ignoring the burning sun. For a moment she was jealous, wishing she could just tear off her shirt like him and flaunt the cool shades and colors on her skin… How she wished she could revel in nudity publicly like he could right then. It was odd how Dahlia could switch from sweetheart to sour patch kid in seconds. She was easily swayed, and always had been, and this situation was no different. Having some Mexican guy come at her yelling in a language she didn’t speak was threatening enough, but with added hate she scowled at him. Dahlia had no clue why, but she was always hateful towards other races. No matter how horrible it sounded she had something against them, and any other race that came to California and called it home. Maybe it was because she had lost her own job to an old latino girl, but someone who was obviously much more skilled than her, and maybe it was just because Dahlia felt the need to hate something. People were easy targets. Her spin suddenly felt clammy, no matter how warm it was outside. The humidity was what killed her, how she sweat and glittered in the daylight like he did… Just not to the sexy extent. She tugged at her tight gray tank top and scowled at him. Dahlia straightened her back, her shoulders, obviously trying to look more badass and feel less childish for the wreck. Fuck Charlotte was going to kill her for getting herself into this one. “You’re in California, speak some fucking English. I don’t know what the hell you’re saying.” She snarled before she could think, her voice turning icy. There it was, that quick reaction. She was like prey pinned to the wall. The redhead felt cornered, but also didn’t do much about it. She cleared her throat, watching as he softened a bit. There was still that barrier, that defense system that kept her 5 feet away. With her arms crossed in front of her she appeared just as defensive as she acted, her tattooed skin covered her midriff when the shirt rode up to much. Whatever, she had a flat stomach, it was okay. The twenty year old suddenly felt constricted in her jeans and flat boots. She wanted out of the situation, away from the man who had jumped out at her at first.
Dahlia wouldn’t admit it at the time, but at the same time that she was naturally repelled away, she was obviously intrigued. She inched forward, her eyes darting from the array of metal and vintage pieces to the handsome and tall man who really.. really wasn’t her type. Well that was what she kept telling herself. She mustered a half hearted smile, her dimple piercings prominent in her porcelain skin. If he could soften, so could she, so she did. Her posture mellowed and her arms released, letting them drape in a nonchalant manner at her sides. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap.” Her apology was empty, but it was as best as she could do. Dahlia was never good at talking shit out. “Pretty car.” She couldn’t hold the straight face, quickly covering her mouth at her own joke. Once she took away the tattooed hand, the bright grin was wiped from her face. She was trying to not become a goofball in front of him. Dahlia was trying to be serious, though it was practically impossible. Her eyes skimmed his body as she cleared her throat again. Thank god Char wasn’t there, otherwise she’d be stuck watching her eat up yet another perfect boy. Dahlia stopped her train of thought and raised her eyebrows, replaying how he spoke and shaking her head to herself. The young woman stepped forward and leaned against her car, reaching into the window and pulling out her cell phone. After failing miserably at the attempt to grab her license and insurance card, she popped over the door and bent down into the car before getting back up and sending him a heartbreaking smile. “Insurance and info right?”
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Post by carlos ray moreno on Jun 17, 2010 6:31:03 GMT -5
it was safe to say the boy had seen more than his fair share of beautiful girls. but when he laid his eyes on the red head, he could tell that she was a different kind of beauty - one that he wasn't used to seeing. she was rough, but gorgeous nonetheless. he had never seen her before, and he found it refreshing to meet someone new. even if it meant there was multiple lacerations on his newly painted vintage mustang. however, he mistook her beauty for gentleness, causing him to look at her in shock when she snapped at him, causing his lips to pull up in a slight smirk. oh, how her comment - that might have been taken as a bit racist to some, but not to carlos - made him chuckle slightly, making him cock his head to the side at the slightest as he spoke softly to her, ¿cuál es la materia preciosa, no le gusta el idioma español? cooing her with his inticing spanish voice, one that he'd used time after time to lure girls into his trap. this one in particular didn't seem to like the language, but he found her reaction too amusing to pass up. it wasn't often that his latino influence repelled girls rather than attracting them like flies. as he spoke, he let his eyes trail up and down her body, noticing the way her tank top trailed off. he let her see him checking her out before he smirked, looking away from her, pushing her buttons. she seemed rather uptight, and he was curious to see what made her tick. why? for entertainment, of course.
after a few minutes, he let himself relax from the tense stance he'd been holding before walking over to the rear of his car and checking out the damage, wincing as he spoke to himself, cursing his luck. he sighed and looked up at the now aplogizing redhead, shrugging. he knew she didn't mean it, it was obvious. he was mexican; he wasn't stupid. "aye shush chicka, i don't want your fake apologies. besides, i'm just a beaner, no need to worry. i deal with racist babosos todos los dias." he sighed, not bothering to explain what he was saying to the girl. as he started to think up how much it would cost him to repair the car himself, he looked up at her - almost in hate - as she spoke again. he shook his head angrily, not liking that she thought the destruction of his prized possession was funny. "yeah, she was." he emphasized the past tense, hissing at the slightest. yes, the girl was pretty, but she didn't exactly come off as someone he'd tolerate. sure, he was used to ignorant people, but that didn't mean he would put up with them. but the girl was obviously trying to make ammends, so he sighed, shaking his head, "sorry mija. it's hot, i'm grumpy, aylin is ...-" he paused, looking over at the car, "damaged" he said the word, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at the rear end of his car, hating how the paint was chipped and how the metal was bent out of shape. however he caught himself and cleared his throat and looked at her, offering his famous crooked smile before watching her go to her car, laughing at her quietly when she couldn't reach what she had been attempting to reach. as hard as he tried not to, his eyes rested on her, soaking her up while he still had the chance before she turned around and caught him.. well, staring at her ass. as she turned around, he looked down - making it rather obvious - before looking up, feigning a look of angelic innocence as he returned the smile, reaching for the info when she finally got it. "thank you, la belleza." he purred, looking down at the driver's license and chuckling. "only people with skin as white as snow would name their hija something as loca as dahlia." he teased, winking at her before looking at her insurance card and pulling out his cellphone, quickly dialing the number, letting his eyes rest on her face as he waited for someone to answer.
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Post by dahlia huntington leigh on Jun 17, 2010 16:50:48 GMT -5
THESE SOUTHERN CONSTELLATIONS GOT ME SO DIZZY. [/color] [/font] Dahlia could always past for someone who was ignorant. She was never serious, never really showing an inch of brains unless people got her talking in a serious conversation. Even then it was hard to keep her from making jokes and smiling just because she didn’t think that way. Dahlia didn’t look at life as a chore, but as an adventure. She toyed with people’s minds and played and even at work was grinning like a fool. Stripping wasn’t even a fun job and she was still smiling at customers and friends. Dahlia was even the cliché girl who everyone went too to cheer them up. She’ll make a fool of herself willingly to see someone be lifted from doubts. That was another thing, the girl was caring. She was a bubble of selfless emotions, that sometimes turned snappy and negative when the occasional asian, African American, or Mexican person came along.
He was speaking Spanish again, it was making her mad.
”…… What the fuck are you saying?!” She clenched her fists and shook her head, looking away from him for a second to try and cool herself. Instead of noting how obviously sexy it was to hear, she was so completely turned off. It made her skin crawl to hear the words. It was hard being so obviously attracted to a man and then not because of what he spoke. He was staring at her, checking her out. Dahlia found herself curious again, raising her eyebrows and then stepping a little.. closer. Honestly part of him wanted to just straight up rape him right then and there, but the other part of her, the other extremely racist and fucking ignorant part of her wanted to just flip him off and drive away in her VW that now obviously had a cleft lip.
She laughed gently at his comment, how he pointed out she was racist, and raised an eyebrow. Of course he did… But then again California was more than likely 50% of his race so what problems were he dealing with? She didn’t like the indecision coming out inside of her. She didn’t like not being able to make a decision on hitting on him or not hitting on him. All she knew was when he kept his mouth shut, he was gorgeous. Dahlia didn’t even normally like long hair on a guy, but yet there she was, drooling (privately mind you) over a Mexican guy with long hair. Sounded disgusting to her.. but much more pleasing to the eyes than she expected. He apologized for snapping and she genuinely smiled at him, not baring any teeth as she shrugged. “It’s no big deal. California sun gets to all of us.” She touched her own shoulders, hoping she wasn’t getting sun burnt and that the sunscreen she applied earlier would last throughout the day. She felt a pair of eyes on her when she bent down, but when she stood back up straight at least he had the decency to look away. He feigned being angelic and she laughed lightly to herself, her smile brightening as she approached him and traded off licenses. Even his name was so fucking Mexican. She rolled her eyes at his comment and then glanced at his, willing to prod. “Hah. Carlos. I should’ve guessed.” She smirked and locked eyes with him, not pulling away for the world. Dahlia nibbled on her nail, holding her insurance card as if she were about to look at it but instead keeping her focus on him. The young woman smiled to him, suddenly inching a little closer and lifting his hand to peer at her card in curiosity. She dropped it, breaking contact again and turning around to walk her car. She pulled out a camera from her purse, which was ironically enough film. Dahlia wasn’t sure why she had a urge to take a picture of the young man on the phone with the crashed cars behind him but she did, and not caring whether he saw her do it or not. Dahlia put the camera back in her purse and sighed. ”So.. “ She cringed a little. “Carlos… What now?”
[/b] Her eyes scaled his frame again, but much stealthier than he had before. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him anyways, he was Mexican. [/justify][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] [/center]
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Post by carlos ray moreno on Jun 19, 2010 4:52:11 GMT -5
carlos moreno had a long history of dealing with ignorance; seeing as he went to an all white private school growing up. why his abuela insisted he went there was beyond him, but he went, even if kids were constantly commenting on his skin color, and how that made him less important than they were. he grew up with discrimination; so it wasn't anything shockingly new. however, what did surprise him was the fact that someone as beautiful as dahlia could be that close minded; that ...ugly when it came to other people. and he could honestly say he was disappointed; yes disappointed in the girl he was yet to know. he wasn't one to judge off of looks or even race, and he usually expected the same treatment from someone. but again, it seemed like he was always asking too much. apparently manners was too much for the red head to handle. so, instead of giving her a lecture on equality and such he bit his tongue, giving her a toothless smile when she looked at him as if he was some kind of disgusting animal. but at the same time, he couldn't help but piss her off when it came to him speaking spanish; however, he knew better than to piss her off anymore, so he merely laughed at her anger, not registering why she hated the language so much. he watched her, his eyes alight with curiosity as she shook with anger just from his words. anger didn't come much to the six foot two man, so he was amused when it seemed to come to the red head so easily. he held his hands up in surrender, still chuckling slightly "ayee chica, calm down i was just kidding." he said giving her a mischievous smile.
as the two stood there in the searing heat, he felt himself continue to sweat and he frowned, going back into his car - wiping off the sweat with his shirt before secretly spraying some of his dior cologne over himself and then going back to where the two were standing. "aye it is really hot outside. good thing you're not wearing much clothing, eh?" he teased, acting like he didn't appreciate that fact even though it was so obvious he really did appreciate it. he watched her touch her shoulders and he chuckled, leaning against his car before shaking his head, "no worries belleza peligrosa, i doubt you'll end up with skin as brown as mine." he said, toying with her and the fact that she didn't like any race other than her own. sure, he didn't like the fact that she was racist, but he was willing to playfully prod if she was. he didn't like tension, so he did what he did best; play it off with jokes. carlos could surely take what he could dish out, so as she reacted with her comment about his name, causing him to throw his head back and laughed at her before looking back down at her, shaking his head at the slightest. "ahh, this diabla blanca tiene chistes, eh?" he teased, winking at her as he watched her with the same curiosity as she watched him with. he raised one think eyebrow at her as she got close to him, moving his hand before finally letting go, appearing as she had lost interest. the small girl confused him; she would not accept him for the color of skin he had, but at the same time she wasn't too disgusted to touch him? he gave her an odd look as she went to get a disposable camera - typical gringa, being prepared - and frowning when she included him in the photo. "i don't think taking pictures of the victim is protocol, mija." he said, his eyebrow raising at the slightest. he sighed as someone answered the phone, causing him to put a finger up, notioning for her to be quiet so he could hear. a few minutes later, he hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket before looking over at her. "well, dahlia -" he said, saying her name so that it sounded hispanic, "we wait for the insurance stupidos to show up so they can handle things." he said, checking out the damage on his precious car once again. "ayos mejos. i know you don't like my kind, but she's american, like you." he whined, running his hand along the car's trunk as he complained, "did you really have to hit her?" he probed, looking over at her and giving her a rather stern look. aye, gringos were so loco.
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