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The Fools in Summer

The Fools in Summer

One starts to think that there's nothing special about anyone, when you're surrounded by people that are just like you on the outside.

505 readers have visited this universe since Starboi created it.
Topics: drama, modern, original, and romance (Add Tags »)
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Introduction

LAKEWOOD, 1965
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[Excerpt pulled from a 1965 edition of The Lakewood Reporter]

"...Local police were called to the site of a domestic dispute at the Marion residence, because neighbors had heard screams and cries coming from within. When they arrived; the bodies 65 year old Mary Marion, 61 year old James Marion and their 17 year old son James were found laying face down in the kitchen, a large puddle of blood having pooled and a nearby window smashed. Police are calling it a robbery attempt gone wrong, but homicide is still on the table. Despite the gruesome scene, it appears that all scheduled fall festivities will proceed as planned, although concerns have risen due to the number of adolescents that are set to participate... ."




LAKEWOOD, 1985
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[Excerpt pulled from a 1985 edition of The Lakewood Reporter]


"... yet another murder has occurred, this time at the Freemason Lodge with all 14 members found mutilated and strewn about up to the wooden rafters..."


LAKEWOOD, PRESENT DAY [JUNE 1ST, 2018]
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School is out, and that means all Hell can break loose outside of four rat infested, crumbling walls and corporal dunce-cap punishments; a teacher that prefers to use a bat instead of a ruler, a principal that seems too comfortable with suggesting "quality time" with his students, meat from a slaughterhouse that always seems to be stocked with mystery meats, a PTA bake-sale/annual blood drive in which all Lakewood residents must give back to their community. The local newspaper declares that all is well and good in this tiny tourist trap, but is it really? With all these cover ups, who can be so certain of that? The friend you grew up with may just be a complete stranger....


Or a murderous supernatural entity.

Rules

1:No God Modding or Auto hitting.
2:Romance with every gender is allowed, but take other things to private messaging if it gets like that.
3:Bullying others OOC is not okay, you can be harsh in the roleplay but if you have personal issues with someone, talk it out privately.
4:No Mary/Gary Sues. Everyone has flaws.
5:No OP characters!
6:Death should be discussed with all members before it occurs.
7:Please let the admin know when you're going to be away for awhile!

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Character Portrait: Kyle Bates "Nothing is ever as it seems, especially people."
Character Portrait: Jeremy
Jeremy played by Starboi
Character Portrait: Jenniffer Ross "Woe is I."
Character Portrait: Roselle
Roselle played by Starboi

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Character Portrait: Kyle Bates Character Portrait: Jeremy
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Light did not deter summoned shadows, as fingers pulled loose the fabric around Jeremy's waist, the only fabric keeping the kimono from slipping away. Crimson fabric fell, there was only pale beauty beneath such a thing, a tattoo of black roses and winding around his entire body. "I must give myself..." With eyes still closed, he spoke. The shadows caressed his figure, it was as if they had positioned the pretty male just for them upon the couch. Then, they were gone. Vanished into darkness. Vicious marks and deep wounds all over Jeremy's body. "They were hungry..."

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Kyle looked down on Jeremy's pale body, the scratches and the tattoo all of it was just a lot to take in all at once.

"Who was hungry? What were those things? Please explain what's going on here. Am I hallucinating?" He asked as the scent of blood stirred something inside him. He did his best to resist the urge to lick at the bleeding wounds. He quickly ran to the bathroom and got the first aide kit. It was clear from the scars on Jeremy's body as he bandaged the cuts that this wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Please just stay with me here. If you're strong enough to talk, I need to know what's going on. Can you explain things to me? Why did you give me that bottle? What do you know about me that I don't?"

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This exotic flower belonged to those shadows; this boy was the gift from the depths, and that meant his rituals must go undisturbed.. Jeremy was a personal servant, which also meant that he would accompany the shadows almost everywhere he went. Until now. He gingerly was pushed back onto the couch as soon as he sat up, "Not yet..." surrounding, they spoke rather sweetly to Kyle. "The boy... prepared for you, you must keep him; such is the law! Asore, Asore!" Jeremy's kimono was pulled off so -fortunately he was wearing undergarments. "The ritual is broken and may never be sealed," Kyle was given Jeremy's Kitsune mask, and the shadows at last vanished. "I must stay with you now... I know many things; and so do you."

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As Kyle heard the shadows speak from all directions it seemed, he slowly grasped a little of what was meant by them.

"Prepared for me? You mean I was supposed to... ?" He couldn't finish the sentence. He looked at the mask.

"So because I didn't... finish the ritual, you're supposed to stay with me? Oh, this is going to be complicated. C'mon I'll take you to my room, you're probably going to be spending a lot of time there, but first..." He grabbed a post-it note off the desk and wrote a note for his parents:

Mom and Dad, a friend of mine got mugged while his parents were on vacation. I hope you aren't mad, but I offered to let him stay here for a while until his parents come back in a few weeks. I didn't think it would be good for him to be in his house all alone. I'll talk to you in the morning about it.


"This way I'll have a cover story for why you're here and the stuff missing from the first aide kit." He explained before taking Jeremy up to his room. He sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to him for Jeremy to sit down.

"So, you have to stay with me now, huh? I'm guessing this has something to do with my little experiment two years ago? My DNA was altered with that of a bunch of supernatural creatures. My blood holds the key to all of this doesn't it? Whatever is inside of me was supposed to be the one to finish the ritual I'm guessing." The gears were clicking into place for Kyle now. He wondered what kind of DNA was inside him now, what creatures were used, what supernatural things actually existed that he had always believed to be just myth and legend.

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Jeremy sat down, not bothering to cover himself again. "You're probably wondering what that is, yeah? It's a Kitsune mask, used for rituals.. I shattered my other one awhile ago so I have to use this one. I remember a story my father told me... it will explain a bit, I think, about the rituals. Hidden deep within the Forest; a rather peculiar Shrine belonging to one of Japan's many deities, it was said that one could avoid becoming a wandering spirit if they spilled their blood upon the marble steps and the blood dripped into a wooden bowl, the deity, Asore, would devour them. If an offering was refused, the one offering to Asore was forced to dance in his Kitsune mask until rotting away. He was described according to legend as quite beautiful, with long, flowing hair as dark as night and pure sakura eyes, beauty was a mask for cunning as he would often lure young men to the shrine to make his dolls and women to drown. His dolls could not speak; could not move, and Asore ate his dolls one by one until there was nothing left. One lone man; a lone traveler happened across the deity and demanded to wear the mask in ceremonial dance because he knew that he would be protected, a priest. He would leave Asore alone if he lost and curse Asore if he won. Asore tried everything he could to distract the man, but he finished and pointed a finger at the deity, "You must be consumed, lest you fall to the bidding of another." "

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"So if I understand you correctly, you're the incarnation of the deity, Asore, and you need to be fed to these shadow creatures as part of your curse, I'm guessing about every 20-30 years or so going by the long chain of events in that house? Also, because I interrupted the feeding I've become your master of sorts? It has nothing to do with the monster I've become. But that still doesn't explain why you gave me that bottle or what was in it." He spoke. He was exhausted after what had happened that day, but he still needed answers.

Kyle took the mask and put it in his dresser drawer and couldn't take his eyes off of Jeremy, or was it Asore? Either way he was very attractive and sitting on his bed nearly naked.

"Wow, this isn't exactly the way I imagined getting my first guy into bed." Kyle chuckled a little nervously trying to cheer up Jeremy a little. This whole situation was so serious and Kyle felt the need to cut the tension a little.

"So, now what do we do?"

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"Not exactly, no. Asore is my father." So Jeremy did have a father, but where was he? "The curse will never cease; all of the bloodline carries it and will do so for all of eternity, I might have ruined the ritual on purpose." What? "Yes, it does. I.. I gave you my blood, rather than taking yours, no human can drink it and live. You came in, nullified the ritual, and they couldn't do anything because of what I did." Jeremy was still a bit drained from the ritual, he ended up falling back onto the bed with a blush on his pale cheeks.

This explained the bandages on his wrist. He unbound his hair, well, tried to; but fell back against Kyle. "Well, now I must share a bed with you. It is law."

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"Whoa! Slow down, Turbo." Kyle said with a very surprised expression on his face. Granted, he didn't mind having Jeremy there, he actually kinda liked the idea, but he was still figuring things out about himself. He only realized he was gay a year ago and now the stuff about the weird DNA he was fused with, he was so confused right now.

"Okay, just to clear this up, you mean sex, right? If so, do we have to do it like right now, or just eventually? I'm not sure how well I can perform under that kind of pressure. Also, what's this about giving me your blood when it could have killed me? How did you know what I was? I didn't even know what I was, I'm still not 100% sure what creatures were used." Kyle was more talkative than usual, but under the circumstances, it was expected.

Kyle instinctively held Jeremy in a hug when he fell against him and he undid the ribbon around his hair. It cascaded down like a black waterfall and it was as though Kyle couldn't help but notice Jeremy's beauty now. He absentmindedly traced his finger along the rose tattoo with one finger while holding him close with his other arm.

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"I'm the son of a deity, I'm pretty sure I can tell if someone isn't human. It's not even a gift, just something that happens. The day I met you, I could immediately tell that you weren't human, and I feel like you knew that I was more like you than you thought. I don't know what you are exactly, but I think I could find out..." Jeremy trailed his slender fingers across the front of Kyle's chest, it didn't bother him much that he was smaller than the other, really." He gingerly pushed the other back onto the bed, his heated breaths felt against his neck. "Surely you'll let me... because nobody is home."

[taken elsewhere for now]

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Character Portrait: Jenniffer Ross
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Jenniffer sat alone in the library, reading.
It was one of the only things her father allowed her to do. After one incident involving a rather attractive boy, she wasn't allowed to interact with any male peoples. She resented him for it. Then again, she resented him for a lot of things.
She could read, write, paint and mess around on her phone, but only for videos and pictures. Her dad had an app to watch her activities. She wasn't allowed to have any friends. She had quite a few crushes, since she was an 18-year old girl, but Father would make sure she never carried any of them out. Thus, she read.
It was one of those boring old 19th century books, about some random chick in a prim dress travelling around the USA and interacting with polite, handsome gentlemen. They were extremely boring, but they were the only things her father would let her read. Another reason for hatred.
Her father walked up to her. "All right, Jenniffer, your time is up. Let's go. Put the book back." He never let her check out any books; he was not one for the fine arts.
"Alright, Father," Jenniffer said politely. She got off the chair and walked over to the shelves to put the book back. Father went out the doors to go start the car up.
As she put the book back, something caught her eye. It was a very large book, big enough that it looked like it could be used as a doorstopper. It also didn't look like anything that a prim and perfect lady would be reading. Someone must have misplaced it onto the wrong shelf, she thought. Well, I'll just do them a favor and put it back on the right place.
She picked up the book. It was quite heavy, and she gave a quiet grunt when she hefted it off the shelf. The cover was made of what appeared to be worn leather, and it felt oddly warm to the touch. In ancient ink, a title was printed on the cover in Latin. It read, "In Libro Domini Impiarum Animarum". She happened to take Latin classes at her school, and was able to translate the title to "The Book of the Damned".
The title sent a shiver down her spine. It sounded decidedly gothic to her. However, she got some sort of strange sense of foreboding while holding it. Was it the odd warmness? The way the cracked leather cover seemed to her to hold secrets that should never be known.
Outside, she heard her father honk the horn. Without thinking, she deftly slipped the book into her backpack. Her father would hopefully assume it was just another textbook; he hadn't done backpack searches in years.
She ran out of the library and got in the car. Her father scowled at you. "What took you so long?"
"I was putting a book back on the shelf it belonged on. Someone had misplaced it," she replied carefully, hiding her odd fear.
Father nodded. "Good girl. It's good to see you helping the community."
"Thank you, Father." You bastard, she added in her mind.
The car drove away back towards her home.

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Character Portrait: Jenniffer Ross Character Portrait: Roselle
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"My, another one... Now, whatever am I to do with you?" The body was frigid and austere; a young Caucasian adolescent male of about sixteen years, short caramel hair cut jagged at his neck. Dark bruises covered the back and sides of his neck, an indication of strangulation despite the cause of his demise being cardiac arrest. "You've left such a mess of my table, such a terrible guest." Roselle ran slender fingers through thick, neon purple hair with a deep, exasperated sigh slipping past a thin lipped smile as he slid the large metal tray back into its cabinet. "I must pay someone a visit... I'm afraid I lost a precious item, and a young woman is aware of its location. I will see you very soon, my little darlings."
Roselle hummed a funeral dirge while stepping outside, locking up the morgue with a rather large lock and rusted brass key, which was slipped into suit pockets. "It is so cold outside, I hate to have to be out and away from my darlings. Poor dolls, so alone in such a bitter, cold place, not unlike the outside world we live in. Adjusting the white cashmere gloves they wore, Roselle knocked upon Jennifer's door. "Excuse me! It is dark, cold, and I have ashes to attend to; graves to dig, a priceless item to locate! Open up immediately, I haven't the time for this!" Being British; British-Australian, Roselle had a rather thick accent and demanding tone that often came across as the most bitter individual one could possibly come across.
"I have three clients to bury this afternoon and someone within this house knows where my book is!"

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The door opened, and Jenniffer's father stood there, looming like a mountain. He had a gnarled brown beard and shoulder-length brown hair. He wore a plaid shirt and ripped jeans, and carried a belt. His girth and height covered the entire door, as if he were some living wall.
"What," he said, with a voice like thunder, "do you want?"

* * *

Jenniffer could hear her father yelling at someone on the front door. Probably some mail boy or one of those guys who hand out religious pamphlets.
She was reading through the Book of the Damned, and boy but was it a hefty sonuvagun. It was also a little hard to read because of it being entirely in Latin, and because the handwriting was very messy and cramped. What she did translate was stuff about spells, like making voodoo dolls or Ouija board stuff. Most of the stuff seemed to have some relation to the dead, death, bones, blood or spirits. It was a bit freaky, frankly.

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The pale, purple haired male adjusted his gloves as he cleared his throat. "I want my book returned to me immediately! Have you the slightest idea as to how many bodies are awaiting cremation? I had to leave the morgue for this, and I am rather displeased. I want my book, I refuse to depart without it!" Morgue? So the huge, creepy tome belonged to the town's mortician. It made quite a bit of sense, of course, and he seemed rather adamant for its return. "Do you understand, sir? This is quite inconvenient for me at such an hour, I recently was brought a boy that has become quite a terrible problem and cannot be left alone for too long, less he cause another mess. He does not play well with other children."


Roselle was far from intimidated by this man, because he would see him on a metal table one day.

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The man continued to glower darkly at this boy, the mortician. His hands started to tighten into fists. "I do not know what you are speaking of," he said smoothly. "We have no book of yours. Now leave my abode and do not return." And with that, he closed the door.
Meanwhile, Jenniffer continued to read her book. It was quite fascinating, really. All these odd spells...
An idea struck her; a rather mischievous and possibly dangerous one. Maybe I'll test this out, she mused. Maybe the magic will be real, and I'll be some cool necromancer chick. Which wouldn't be too surprising, considering this hell of a town.
She flipped to the appropriate page and skimmed the area describing the materials needed, then ran off, book tucked under her arm.
She tip-toed through the house, making sure not to disturb Father who was sleeping on the couch. He often took power naps after he was finished chewing someone out. Probably the poor fool who was out by the door, whoever he was.
She quickly gathered the supplies, which included chalk, some candles, a crystal she plucked off of Father's shelf of odd relics, a cloth napkin and a lighter.
She went outside to the backyard of the house. It wasn't like the big grassy backyards of most kids. It was an abandoned parking lot, surrounded by a fence her father had built when he'd bought this property. The derelict restaurant was beyond the fence. As a child, she used to climb around the wreckage and get into all sorts of mischief there.
At least, before her father beat all the mischief out of her. She could still feel the old scars sting a little when she bent over to prepare the stuff. He'd been getting a little more pacified as of late, which was good.
She drew a pentagram, a star within a circle, on the ground with chalk, and then put the candles at each point of the star, lighting each one in the evening gloom. She placed the cloth napkin at the center, the crystal on top, and then she began to chant.
It was a relatively simple chant, which was good because while she could read Latin she was no expert on it. "Mater transformandus sit, et ego in te vocas! Commoda mihi multitudinem liberorum benedictionem!" "Mother Ghoul, I call on you! Lend me one of your many children as a blessing!" Even though this was something that could definitely lead to some people thinking of her as a Satanist, she didn't really care. Besides, her family was already infamous for her father's deeds.
As she chanted, she lit the cloth napkin on fire. It burned quickly. Was it her imagination, or did it seem to get darker around her and the flames hotter?
As soon as the flames licked the crystal, there was a blinding flash of light. Jenniffer threw her hands over her eyes, lest she be blinded. After it faded, everything looked normal. However, crystal, napkin and candles were gone. There was just the pentagram drawn in white chalk on the pavement. Huh, she thought. That was-
Her thought process was interrupted as a bony hand broke the surface. Jenniffer yelped and scuttled back on her hands and feet.
The hand was followed by another, which dug a corpse out of the ground. No, not a corpse; it looked like one. It was a skeletal, hairless creature, with gray skin pulled taut against thin bones. It had no lips, nose or ears, and it stared at her with chattering teeth and wild eyes. Jenniffer stared in horror at it, not making a sound.
It was a ghoul.

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Roselle suddenly had this sort of feeling that screamed at him to glance upwards as he stood outside until he did, only for his deeply set eyes to widen in their sleepless sockets. He was rendered speechless for a moment, a mere brief moment in which he swore that he certainly had to retrieve his book one way or another from whatever imbecilic individual had decided to read from it. That, and his revelation was followed by a long string of wrathfully irritated curses to the Gods below as he vanished from where he stood. The smoke always caused terrible coughing, it might as well have equated to smoking an entire package of cigarettes, which he could safely say was quite terrible despite he himself lighting that many per day. Apparently most humans don't have that lung capacity, and most humans don't live to be 112-and-a-half.
Fortunately for Jennifer, the smoke didn't follow Roselle when he appeared behind her, just the extinguishing of every present light source and even then did the pale male carry a black lace parasol because hey, artificial light can hurt when all you're used to are candles. Yes, welcome to the non-Victorian Era, Roselle, enjoy your stay. "What in the Hell did you do?! You're not a necromancer! Or a mortician! Or a necromancer mortician! For the love of Hades, don't ever do this again, yeah? I had to step away from work for this." He swore in Latin, another very, very long string of harsh curses as he removed his right glove and snapped his fingers, thus nullifying the summoning ritual and returning the ghoul to eternal rest before it could slaughter Jennifer. "You don't ever get to touch this book. Not even the cover. Or the spine. Or the bookmark, because my job is very important. If you want to learn these things, you should ask before you read. Reading can be dangerous when the book is hundreds of years old and in a language you don't major in from the sound of it."

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Jenniffer stared with wide eyes at Roselle. Suddenly, something clicked in her mind, mainly because of his mention of being a mortician. "Hey," she said, "aren't you that one kid who works over at the morgue? Roselle, right? I think I saw you once in Latin class."

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"Correct." Roselle took his book, flipping through pages until he had reached the one Jennifer read from. "...I am surprised... usually this sort of spell does not work properly, even when followed. Although... I don't want you borrowing this without supervision. I'm not trying to be your father, I just ... don't want you to get hurt."

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Jenniffer winced. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't think it would work anyways, I was just curious..." she trailed off.
Then, a thought occurred to her. "Hey, could you teach me this stuff?" she asked excitedly.

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"Could I teach you?" Roselle felt himself internally cringing. "... yes, I can. You won't have to slip outside... as you would most likely tell, I have the habit of letting myself in to escape those like your father. Unpleasant man, really. Seems to take a sort of pleasure out of yelling at unfortunate souls. You may or may succeed in what you want, Jenniffer. I had to learn almost as much as you will. Almost. One perk, if you will, of not being entirely human."

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"So... are we just going to do this out here? In the backyard?" She waved her hand around the cracked pavement. The yellow, white and blue parking spot paint was faded, and weeds grew through the abundant cracks in the ground. "If we are, we'd have to be careful so my father doesn't see. He... he doesn't like me being around other people." She blushed a bit.

The Fools in Summer: Out Of Character (OOC)

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