Grasping for Hands {Darby && Michelangelo {c}

[Reagal]

[atrb=style,background: url(http://i738.photobucket.com/albums/xx24/cyyne/gbg.png); width: 500px; border-radius: 10; -moz-border-radius: 10; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #989898;,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=colSpan,3] [STYLE=font-family: times; font-weight: 100!important; letter-spacing: -2px; font-size: 60px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #661904; color: #cccccc; padding-left: 20px; line-height: 35px; padding-bottom: 10px;]Darby.[/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=padding-left: 20px; font-family: helvetica neue; font-weight: 100!important; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 18px; color: #9e5610; text-shadow: 2px 2px 0px #2e0a01; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7;]WE DON'T BELIEVE IN FILLER, BABY; IF I COULD I'D SIT THIS OUT--[/style]	[STYLE=margin-left: 5px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; width: 90%; background-color: #561b11; border-left: 1px solid #9e5610; padding: 10px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; color: #b45238;]Darby dropped her backpack at the side of her desk, flopping down on the uncomfortable metal chair. Since it was still morning, there was a sports bottle filled with iced coffee which was set on the corner of the desk. Darby hesitated, before taking a swig of it. Hazelnut. Nummy. Recapping the bottle and setting it aside, she leaned far back in her desk, glancing up at the teacher. Oh god. Was it noticeable that she was clenching her teeth? That was easily the best-looking man she'd ever met in person. Google images was one thing... this was better, though. Please don't be a dick, please don't be a dick, oh my god if you're a decent teacher I'll just d i e... Pulling her eyes away so she wasn't staring, she leaned over, fishing through her backpack to occupy herself. There. Sketchbook. Pulling out the notebook, she opened it on her desk, flipping to a new page. Now what to draw...? She retrieved a pencil from her bags, absently running the end over her lip. Eh. No inspiration. No muse. She glanced back up at the teacher. Tasty. She would totally draw him if there wasn't a chance he'd see it. She didn't draw bad enough for him to not recognize himself, which was good. I guess. At least it meant her art had gotten to a level where two images of a male couldn't be mistaken as the same person. Well, nothing would stop her from drawing him in her mind. A line there... a curve there... and sleek hair that perfectly framed his face... ohgod did he see her staring at him--?! credits :: by KONYA☆[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; border: 4px solid #ac7322; margin-right: 18px;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.5; -moz-opacity: 0.5; border: 4px solid #ac7322;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.3; -moz-opacity: 0.3; border: 4px solid #ac7322;][/style]

[Mr. Michelangelo]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][rs=2][atrb=style, background: #323232; width: 458px; opacity: 0.8; border-top: 2px solid #111; border-right : 2px solid #111;border-left: 2px solid #111;-webkit-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; -o-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; -ms-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; height: 100px, bTable; ] [style= background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/uSyoo.png'); margin-left: -10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; -o-border-radius: 10px; -ms-border-radius: 10px; -moz-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 10px; height: 100px; width: 100px; border: 6px solid #111; margin-top: -15px; float: left;][/style][style= font: 45pt arial bold; margin-top: -10px; color: #40403F; text-align: center; margin-left: 90px; letter-spacing: -7px; text-shadow: 0px 2px 3px #111; margin-bottom: -14px; text-transform: uppercase;]I DON'T CARE[/style][style= font: 6pt courier; color: #111; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; background-color: #40403F; text-align: left; margin-bottom: -50px; padding: 2px;]WHAT YOU THINK, AS LONG AS IT'S ABOUT ME[/style]

[style= font: 17pt arial bold; color: #40403F; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -3px; margin-top: -23px; line-height: 15px; text-transform: lowercase; width: 230px; margin-left: 140px;]THE BEST OF US CAN FIND HAPPINESS IN MISERY[/style][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][rs=2][atrb=style, background: #111; width: 458px; opacity: 0.8; border-bottom: 2px solid #111; border-right : 2px solid #111;border-left: 2px solid #111; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px; -o-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px; -ms-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px, bTable; ] [style= opacity: 0.9; border: 2px solid #000; background-color:#5B5B5A; margin-right: -12px; -webkit-border-radius: 30px 0px 10px 30px; -o-border-radius: 30px 0px 10px 30px; -ms-border-radius: 30px 0px 10px 30px; -moz-border-radius: 30px 0px 10px 30px; border-radius: 30px 0px 10px 30px;][style= font: 7.5pt verdana; line-height: 13px; padding: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #111; ]It was his first class of the day; his first class of the school year, actually. A new year, to learn names, new teaching techniques, and hey...maybe he'd "behave". Ha. Darrin wasn't sure if that was possible anymore. He stood at the front of the room, watching as his students walked in the classroom; some talking to their friends, others sitting right down. His hands were clasped together and he stood still as a statue, studying the class. Trying to figure out which ones were the quiet and which were the loud; who were friends and who weren't, all that stuff students didn't think teachers cared about. But honestly, it was one of the things Mr. Michelangelo looked for. He wanted to see who would be trouble, who he would have to separate. And there was always that other thing going on in the back of his mind. After a couple minutes, the bell signaling class beginning rang. Not wanting to waste any time, he turned around and wrote his name on the board. Sure, some may have had him before, but the majority hadn't. Darrin was being obnoxiously loud with the chalk, and by the time he'd written his name in his normal semi-cursive handwriting, the class was nearly silent and in their seats. Good. Turning to them with a pleasant half-smile, he motioned to the board. "For those who don't know me, I'm Mr. Michelangelo. No 'A' in Michel. Remember that." Then he went off on his usual list of rules. It wasn't much, just the normal 'don't talk while I'm talking', 'stay in your seat unless necessary', and so on. Slowly, he walked to his desk, feeling the eyes of many on his back. He picked up the class roll and began calling names. Honestly, Darrin hated the things you had to do on the first class. It was tedious and annoying, especially for him. While he was doing so, he looked up, noticing a single girl studying him rather closely. He raised an eyebrow, amused, and continued down the list. "Darby." Mr. Michelangelo called out, glancing around for a raised hand, or someone saying 'here'. "Darby Kathleen?" He saw a couple people looking at the girl staring at him. So that was her? Well, she wasn't that bad looking herself... If only she'd stop daydreaming. ooc: i dunno why my purty table's all messed up. ;-; whatever. it doesn't look...what bad. by the way, i blame late night exhaustion on the jumbledness of this post. wheee! [/style]

[style=width: 200px; margin-top: -20px; margin-right: 25px; text-align: right; font-size: 9px; color: #757575;]made by prism of btn and ote~[/style]

[Darby]

[atrb=style,background: url(http://i843.photobucket.com/albums/zz355/MuffinnCake/Junk/6744f4c5.jpg); width: 500px; border-radius: 10; -moz-border-radius: 10; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #989898;,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=colSpan,3] [STYLE=font-family: times; font-weight: 100!important; letter-spacing: -2px; font-size: 60px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #66ccff; color: #cccccc; padding-left: 20px; line-height: 35px; padding-bottom: 10px;]Darby.[/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=padding-left: 20px; font-family: helvetica neue; font-weight: 100!important; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 18px; color: #0033cc; text-shadow: 2px 2px 0px #999999; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7;]WE DON'T BELIEVE IN FILLER, BABY; IF I COULD I'D SIT THIS OUT--[/style]	[STYLE=margin-left: 5px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; width: 90%; background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #000000; padding: 10px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; color: #000044;]Darby kept glancing down every once in a while so she didn't look like a creeper. Sort of. It wasn't really working. She had that problem; when she saw someone attractive, she just couldn't help staring. And staring, and staring, and staring... Ohgodhername. "Ah--! Here." she called out, gritting her teeth a little. Brilliant. First day of school, first class of the day, hot teacher, and she already looked like a klutz. Really, she wasn't one-- just a little scatterbrained at times. Oh well. Her paranoia felt pressure on her back; people were staring. "Who's that girl? The one who can't recognize her own name in a silent classroom?" Ohgod. How thoroughly upsetting. Great way to start the goddam day. And now that the mild attention was drawn to her, she could feel the surprised, condescending stares that continued well after her words; "What the hell is she wearing?" It was a fucking art school. She had figured she wouldn't have this problem here. You're just imagining it; maybe they're staring because they like your outfit (the same way you stare at someone when you like their body). Maybe they're not even staring at all. Bullshit, conscience. Bullshit. They were staring. And it was because they were wearing jeans and t-shirts, and she was wearing a neon, sharp attire that almost suggested a rave in her immediate future. She had a neon green shirt on--skin tight--with a beautiful graphic of a girl's face in rich purple, with stars and hearts and butterflies and all different types of doodle-y images floating around the empty space. On the right side of her head was a lacy, rose-like cluster of fabric in black, and she had on about half a dozen rainbow, vibrant necklaces, and about as many similar bracelets. But that wasn't stare-worthy. Waist-down, she had a short, puffy petticoat of neon pink with an under-layer of neon green that matched her shirt. Beneath that, super-skinny jeans of black, with a few fashionable tears all over them. Then black, leather-ish boots with a slight heel and metal studs and chains over them, and fuzzy, rainbow leg warmers. And she had a tail. Yep. A rich, indigo tail that hung almost to her knees, and was tipped in a few hairs of red. It was real fur, too. Fox, I think. Every time she wore something like this, she could expect the same comments. "Why are you wearing a tail?" ... Why... aren't you? "Because I'm not weird." .... Alright. Touché. Ugh. Darby ducked her head, going back to doodling aimlessly on the blank sketchbook page. A-A chibi. I'll... just draw a chibi. credits :: by KONYA☆; edited by Reagal[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; border: 3px solid #000044; margin-right: 18px;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.5; -moz-opacity: 0.5; border: 3px solid #000044;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.3; -moz-opacity: 0.3; border: 3px solid #000044;][/style]

[Mr. Michelangelo]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/uSyoo.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]is this who you are?[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]SOME SWEET VIOLENT URGE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]365 WORDS[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]When the girl finally replied, he kept his eyes on her for a few seconds longer. She was definitely not the norm, with all those colors and...well, her style. And, was that a tail? That made him wonder. Was she--Stop it, don't think of that right now. He quickly stopped himself and resumed calling the roll, finishing quickly. This was probably his smallest class, with only a bit more than twenty students. None of which were looking at him; all were looking at her. Hello? Was he invisible? Darrin scowled and coughed, trying to get the class's attention. "Darby is quite lovely, but could we please begin class?" He said firmly, glancing around the class as they finally turned their attention to him. Not being paid attention to was one of the things he hated most in a class, next to boisterous students. When he was talking, when he was standing in front of the class, he wanted everyone looking at him. When he didn't have everyone's attention, Darrin tended to get rather irritated. Even more so if the attention was on someone else. "Well, let's get right into learning, shall we?" He said, grinning. Then he went off into a lecture about literature, one he quickly realized no one was interested in. Darrin breathed out, blowing his hair further to the side. Many were starting to nod off, many others seemed to be daydreaming. That girl--Darby, he remembered--was even drawing in a sketchbook. For the second time that class, he scowled. "Since no one seems interested in what I have to stay, why don't we start off the year with a simple writing assignment?" He said, watching as people straightened, some groan. Now that made him smile. At least they weren't sleeping. "Write a couple paragraphs about the events of this past summer." Darrin told them. "Fiction or not." He added, figuring it'd make a couple more people happy. He stalked over to his desk and sat down, busying himself in preparing material for classes later in the day. Every so often, he looked up. Nearly every time, he caught himself looking at the black-haired girl. Darby. He sighed. - - - ooc: it's sort of boring, but i posted. yay? i think you're already gone though. xDD [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Darby]

[atrb=style,background: url(http://i843.photobucket.com/albums/zz355/MuffinnCake/Junk/6744f4c5.jpg); width: 500px; border-radius: 10; -moz-border-radius: 10; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #989898;,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=colSpan,3] [STYLE=font-family: times; font-weight: 100!important; letter-spacing: -2px; font-size: 60px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #66ccff; color: #cccccc; padding-left: 20px; line-height: 35px; padding-bottom: 10px;]Darby.[/style]
[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=padding-left: 20px; font-family: helvetica neue; font-weight: 100!important; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 18px; color: #0033cc; text-shadow: 2px 2px 0px #999999; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7;]WE DON'T BELIEVE IN FILLER, BABY; IF I COULD I'D SIT THIS OUT--[/style]	[STYLE=margin-left: 5px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; width: 90%; background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #000000; padding: 10px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; color: #000044;]Darby flushed deeply, ducking her head and hiding behind her bangs. Very lovely. The smokin' hot teacher thought she was very lovely. Her paranoia had another side to it; overreactiveness. And now, her mind was running, spinning, reeling. She was lovely. Not pretty, not cute, not attractive--she was lovely. Her self esteem began to swell a bit; just slightly. He thought she was lovely. Darby kept her eyes down, staring at her rough sketch without really seeing it. She'd met nice teachers, teachers who thought she was special and intelligent and saw her as a wonderful character. But ones who openly, blatantly commented in front of God and everybody that she was... lovely? That was... overwhelming, to say the least. Still rolling the teacher's words around her senses, it took her a moment to hear his assignment. "...Fiction or not." A writing assignment? Why the hell were people groaning? This was great! Darby--in classes she cared for (the arts, mostly)--made an extreme effort to showcase her talents upfront; advertisewhat she was capable of to her teacher so as to make them aware of what she could do. You know. In case they decided to take her under wing and act as a personal mentor instead of a generic professor. It had happened a few times in the past, and it was a really great experience. And now, here was the opportunity to flaunt her writing skills to the teacher who already thought she was lovely. "...Fiction or not." Psh. Realism wasn't her thing. So what did she do this summer? Well, she sat on the computer for nine hours a day, or went to play with her horse. Boring. What did she want to do this summer? You know; if the limits of reality didn't apply. Fall in love. In epic, heart-wrenching, beautiful love. Well that was extremely obvious. Always the hopeless romantic, of course forever alone Darby would gravitate to that. Darby stared at her unfinished sketch for a few seconds more until she was sure she wasn't flushed anymore. Then, she risked looking up, glancing up at the teacher. Yep. Still gorgeous. "... How long can it be?' She murmured, her voice barely above a squeak-- but the classroom was rather silent, save for the rustle of paper and pencil, so she was easily heard. When she adapted to someone as a friend, her words tended to magically grow in volume. But strangers and acquaintences always encountered her as the unique, yet shy and reclusive girl who enjoyed being locked away into herself. The closer the friends got, the louder she got, until she was able to flaunt her thesbian-esque boldness of which she was so infamous for. But now, her voice was measured and tentative; the fact that the drop-dead beautiful man had called her "very lovely" wasn't making her any louder, either. credits :: by KONYA☆; edited by Reagal[/style]	[atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8; border: 3px solid #000044; margin-right: 18px;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.5; -moz-opacity: 0.5; border: 3px solid #000044;][/style] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; opacity: 0.3; -moz-opacity: 0.3; border: 3px solid #000044;][/style]

[Mr. Michelangelo]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/uSyoo.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]is this who you are?[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]SOME SWEET VIOLENT URGE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]680 WORDS[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Now that the class was quiet, Darrin could do his work without getting annoyed. While he told himself he was doing some extra planning for classes later in the day, Darrin was honestly just staring absent-mindlessly at his lesson planner. Instead, he was thinking about ways to avoid...well, what he usually did every school year. For once, he was actually trying to stop himself, but then again, he tried every year. And so far, no luck. It wasn't like he deliberately made himself find certain students attractive. It was only a couple that caught his eye. And more often than not, it wasn't only for their looks. Just thinking about it made him flush. If anyone ever found out about him, he'd be in so much trouble. And not just with the school. Though he could probably blame it on...on something. Why was he even thinking about this, anyways? "... How long can it be?" A quiet voice called, causing Darrin to look up from under his classes and once more look at the black-haired Darby. Oh right, that was why. Because every time he tried to calm himself, another one came along. He sighed quietly to himself and smiled at her. "Just don't make it a novel, Darby. And keep in mind, you have a time limit." Darrin told her. From where he sat, he couldn't see the clock. Damn bad interior designing. Had Mr. Michelangelo had the chance before school starter, he would have completely rearranged the class room. His desk would be near the window, so he could stare out of it, instead of some student in the back who would fall asleep. He could have even put a bird feeder on it, and watch different birds feed from it while his students works...goodness, that sounded stupid coming from a man. Nonetheless, he had a time limit to assign. Darrin pulled up his sleeve and glanced at the time. Still quite early in the class. He knew some students had trouble writing, so perhaps he could make it a little longer than usual... "You have thirty minutes." He addressed the class, glancing around at the students' reaction. From their expressions, it seemed fair. "Then maybe a few of you could share your stories. Or, if they are long, a brief synopsis." Darrin said. More groans for the students. Goodness, could he ever make everyone in a class happy? Apparently not. If he said one thing, one part of the class was happy. But if he added anything to it, then the other part was happy, and the other wasn't. Why? Just the difficulties of being a teacher, he supposed. Satisfied with himself, Darrin leaned back and picked up a book from his desk. It was a collection of well-known poems--but longer ones, like those Edgar Allan Poe wrote. He planned on studying several poems from this book later on in the year. Darrin actually wasn't positive when, but he would make time. Every so often, he glanced back down at his watch. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. And finally, thirty. Well, almost. He sat up and put his book down, scanning the room. Most seemed to be finished, save for a couple hard at work. "It's alright if you're not finished. Would anyone like to share theirs?" Mr. Michelangelo said, scanning the room. Few hands went up. With a smirk, his eyes landed once more on Darby. "How about you, Darby? If it's long, care to tell us about what you did this past summer?" Honestly, he figured that her story would be fiction; she seemed like the sort of person to write stories like that. Glancing down at his watch, he realizing class was nearly over. He wasn't quite sure how long the class was, but it was ending soon. Darrin wanted to hear at least one story before then, and then he would collect the rest. Today would be a rather laid-back day, he supposed. No one liked doing a lot of work the first day of school, anyways. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Darby]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px; padding-bottom:30px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/ebtZW.png); padding-top:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-left:10px][STYLE=-webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px; background-image:url(http://i843.photobucket.com/albums/zz355/MuffinnCake/Junk/93f896b4.jpg); border:7px solid #282828] [/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:0px; font-weight:bold; text-transform:uppercase; color:#282828; line-height:10px; text-align:center; margin-top:10px;]852 words[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:0px; font-weight:bold; text-transform:uppercase; color:#dddddd; line-height:10px; text-align:center; background:#282828; webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; padding:1px]Darrin Michelangelo[/style][STYLE=font-size:28px; line-height:0px; margin-top:16px; text-align:center; color:#282828; font-family:georgia]♥[/style]

[atrb=valign,top][STYLE=margin-top:50px; margin-left:3px; color:#282828; font-size:10px; line-height:9px; text-align:justify; width:300px]Darby nodded a little. Short and sweet. She could do that. Pulling her pencil away from her lips where she had started to chew it, she closed her sketchbook, shoving it to the side of her desk and turning to retrieve her notebook. Fishing around for a moment, she eventually found a blank sheet of lined paper, and poised herself to write. Wait. He would be reading this. What if... it was shared in class? Normally, she loved to show off her skills... but if she was going to be writing about how she wished she had fallen in love the past summer... what a totally lame, failure of an advertisement. New plan. She'd write about-- Edgar Allen Poe??? Captain Sexy was reading Poe? Her all-time favorite poet? The durranged psychopath drunkard -slash- artist of whom she had at least five poems memorized by heart? Holy flying shit. This class just amplified in coolness. The things I would try to do to this guy if he was my age... Darby paused, before dropping her gaze again. Shit. What the hell was she thinking about before that new epiphany? Ah. Topic for a short and sweet sample of her writing. Something she would use as her well-oiled, and perfectly perfected first impression. So where the hell was her goddam muse?? Bastard had a habit of disappearing during moments of dire need like this. She doodled a professionally-shaded portrait of a female's face in the top right margin of the paper as she thought. Some people would probably make their fictions ridiculous in an attempt at cheap humor. So how should she stand out from the crowd? Maybe... just a classic non-human intervention on her summer...? Vampires were straight out of the question. She'd liked vampires back in sixth grade, before it was cool to like morbidity. She wasn't claiming to be a hipster, but the fact remained. She could remember talking with her friend once; "Okay... don't think this is weird... but I totally like vampires." You know. Back when vampires were iconized by Count Dracula, Countess Bathory, Louie, and Nosferatu, not stoner, over-dramatic "Romeos" who fucking sparkled in the sunlight. Vampires burned, goddamit. They burned and turned to a pile of fucking ash-- Irrelevant. Irreeeelevant. No Vampires, no Werwolves... way too cliché. But... maybe something winged? Or... Darby paused, before putting her pencil to the paper. When the teacher called for them to finish, Darby frowned to herself. She could write so much more, really. Oh well. She paused, before finding a way to wrap up her words, and leaning back. Setting her pencil down, she lightly fingered the edge of the paper, glancing over her words. ...Short and sweet. Yep. This would do. She indulged in another upward glance, silently studying the teacher when he wasn't looking her way. Then a new thought struck her; What if he didn't like her writing? Then she was just a strange girl who wouldn't stop staring; nothing more. Well.. she had already put the words to paper. Revising or redoing would take too long; it was what it was. It would have to-- "--Darby..." AH she was being addressed again? So he wanted her to share? Ohgod-- "O-Oh. Okay." She started hesitantly. Clearing her throat a little, she sat up a tiny bit straighter, poising her paper before her. "Well... I kind of had a boring summer... I mean, it wasn't boring to me, but not much happened. So... I wrote about a dream I had during the summer instead." She continued slowly, her gaze brushing over the face she'd drawn on her paper pre-work once, before dropping back to the words. She paused for a second, before beginning to read it. Her measured, steady speach quickly melted into something poetic; being in the theatre all her life had made her one hell of a public speaker. Now, her words ebbed and flowed with a delicate passion--one that was also measured and steady, but you could easily hear in her tone the way she loved what she had produced, and was genuinely proud of it. She went into epic detail of her dream; a nighttime epiphany of sorts regarding a mindset where there was no line between life and death, but instead, a faint blur. Where the two were so close together, death was not feared, and life was not taken advantage of. She clearly began to envelope herself in her writing as she spoke, describing in unique, and clearly colorful vocabulary of the world that her subconscious had birthed, and how pleasureable it truly was. As her voice died off with the last words, she slowly set the paper down on her desk, silently glancing up at the teacher. There. The damage was done. Hopefully, the man wasn't cruel; Darby could just hear the sound of her soul crumpling to something brittle should he find some immense fault in her work. "That's... nice... but that wasn't what you were asked to write about." Ohgod. She would just die right there in her desk. Way to make herself look like a total show-off. Her black regarded the teacher as she waited for a verdict, praying for the best. [/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:13px; line-height:14px; color:#282828; letter-spacing:-2px; margin-left:13px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-top:14px; margin-bottom:40px; opacity:.4]template by oxymoron of back to neverland -268[/style]

[Mr. Michelangelo]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/uSyoo.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]is this who you are?[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]SOME SWEET VIOLENT URGE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]516 WORDS[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]Darrin stood in front of the class, waiting for Darby to speak. He expected average words, maybe even less than average. Something he could criticize and pull apart. Tell her what was wrong with her writing. That was something he loved about being an English teacher. Being able to read things his students wrote, and most of all, being able to correct it. To tell people what they're doing wrong and how to fix it. But he also enjoyed getting into people's minds and seeing what they thought about when they wrote creatively. When Darby began to speak, he definitely wasn't ready to hear near-perfect writing. All he could do was stand there, with a rather astonished expression. That wasn't something he'd been expecting. Definitely not something he'd expected someone her age to write, either. Or even dream. It might not have been exactly what he'd been asking, but it had occurred over the summer, had it not? Darrin's eyes scanned the room, finding many of the other students' expressions nearly as surprised of their own. He figured that perhaps they knew her to be an exceptional writer already, or maybe they weren't as interested as he. Or maybe they hadn't already set low expectations for their classmates, as he had for them. So yes, all he could do was stand and listen, rather enjoying her voice. When she finished, Darrin stood there for maybe a second before straightening. Just when he'd been about to speak, the class exploded into a rather quiet applause. At least they had manners, instead of leaving the girl hanging. After the applause died down, Darrin began to speak again. "That was a lovely st--" He began, only to be interrupted by a larger large kid in the back. "I thought it was dumb. It was a shitty story." He told everyone, leaning back, as if satisfied. The whole situation angered Darrin. Not only had be been interrupted in the middle of a compliment, but it had been an insult. Against something he'd liked. Though his posture remained calm, Darrin's eyes flooded with anger. "Really? Well I'd love to read your story. I'm nearly positive it's about all the girls you didn't get dates from this summer. I bet you sat at home and played video games while Darby here had dreams much more interesting than your sex life." He spat, glaring at the kid. "And if you ever interrupt me again--well, I'd be sure not to." Then he turned back to Darby, a pleasant smile on the face. He ignored the students' astonished expressions, and continued on with his compliment. "As I was saying, your story was lovely. Very interesting." He told her, before turning his attention back to the class as the whole. "It appears as though we're running out of time. If you could all pass your papers to the front, name included, I'll collect them." Darrin said, watching as they began to pass their papers in. He let out a sigh. Insulting the kid probably hadn't been his best decision, but he hated being interrupted. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]

[Reagal]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px; padding-bottom:30px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/ebtZW.png); padding-top:10px; padding-right:10px; padding-left:10px][STYLE=-webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px; background-image:url(http://i843.photobucket.com/albums/zz355/MuffinnCake/Junk/93f896b4.jpg); border:7px solid #282828] [/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:0px; font-weight:bold; text-transform:uppercase; color:#282828; line-height:10px; text-align:center; margin-top:10px;]317 words[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:0px; font-weight:bold; text-transform:uppercase; color:#dddddd; line-height:10px; text-align:center; background:#282828; webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; padding:1px]Darrin Michelangelo[/style][STYLE=font-size:28px; line-height:0px; margin-top:16px; text-align:center; color:#282828; font-family:georgia]♥[/style]

[atrb=valign,top][STYLE=margin-top:50px; margin-left:3px; color:#282828; font-size:10px; line-height:9px; text-align:justify; width:300px]Darby went a little stiff as the first couple of people began to clap. For an actress, she was much less than prepared for applause. And then it grew, and almost everyone was clapping. For her. For writing some brief ditty about a dream. Blood rushed to her face, and she cleared her throat a little, daintily picking up her pencil and writing her name in small, evenly measured letters beside the sketch of a face. She barely heard the teacher compliment her work-- but the insult was clear as day. "I thought it was shitty." She could have just won a Nobel Peace Prize for that little blip about a dream, but that phrase was enough to make everything else null and void. Darby's teeth locked, and she stared at the face she had sketched, freezing in place. She didn't dare look up to see who had spoken; it didn't matter. Her paranoia carefully recorded his words down in stone, and then threw the stone at her face. And it fucking hurt. She was in the middle of recovering (sort of) when the teacher spoke up again. This time, Darby did look up, staring blankly at the man as he openly snuffed the boy. Shock. She was in utter shock. By the time she recovered from that, the girl behind her was lightly tapping her shoulder with a stack of papers, indicating for her to take them (since she was at the front of the row). Darby cleared her throat a little, silently shuffling her own into the stack and pushing it to the corner of her desk. With her same, steady, measured movements, she gathered her notebook and sketchbook, and slid them back into her bag, slipping her pencil into her pocket. She had no idea what to feel about this class. [/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:13px; line-height:14px; color:#282828; letter-spacing:-2px; margin-left:13px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-top:14px; margin-bottom:40px; opacity:.4]template by oxymoron of back to neverland -268[/style]

[Mr. Michelangelo]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;,bTable][style=margin-right: 5px; height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 200px; border-radius: 100px; overflow: auto; float: left; overflow: hidden; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/uSyoo.png);][cs=2][/style] [style=margin-bottom: -5px; font-weight: bold; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px;]is this who you are?[/style] [style=border-top: 1px dotted #b3b3b3; font-family: helvetica; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; padding-top: 3px;]SOME SWEET VIOLENT URGE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=margin-top:5px; width: 90px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; background-color: #2a2a2a; color: #f9f9f9; text-transform: uppercase; padding: 3px;]292 WORDS[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=width: 305px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; padding-left: 5px; border-left: 1px dotted #b3b3b3;]For once, he couldn't really interpret any of his students' expressions. Usually, he had some sort of idea of what they were thinking. You know, the usual 'this class is boring', 'this is interesting', 'ooh, let's see what she got for #4...', and so on. It was something he normally prided himself on. But now, he could barely tell what anyone was thinking. He couldn't tell if he'd gone overboard with that simple insult. It hadn't been that bad, had it? Perhaps he was just overreacting. He didn't need to keep thinking about it; the deed was done. And that irritating boy had been put in his place. Darrin glanced at Darby; her face was one he could read. She was shocked. Didn't think a teacher would defend her, eh? Well, no one usually would, at least not to that extent. But still, did everyone show their emotions so noticeably on their faces? Darrin went about the room, collecting papers from the students at the front. And one of them was Darby. As he passed her, he muttered a quiet 'Sorry' before continuing across the room. He brought them over to his desk and began arranging them; making sure all were facing the right way so he wouldn't become frustrated when he attempted to read them later. Darrin figured he could make this the class's first small grade, so hopefully no one had been a smart-alec and written something stupid. Looking up at the nearly silent class, he smiled, pretending as though he hadn't said an ugly word before. "You all may talk until the bell rings." He told them. And just like that, the silence was gone, and for the moment, all forgotten. Darrin let out a heavy sigh. [/style]

[style=font-size: 10px; font-family: georiga; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE[/style]