maybe it's not so bad - presley

[DARCY MARIE KEHL]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/tvsvE.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px;] kill you up with my lyricals WORDS 313 TAGGED PRESLEY NOTES sorry it's crap! I had to do it quickly. next one will be better, promise Darcy browsed the art section of Hunter Square, mostly to pass the time. It wouldn't be until later would her performance start. In a few hours time, will her fans be cheering for her. Her band, Kehl and the Creeps, is a local favourite; the one to beat in all the competitions. She couldn't help it that her mom vouched for her every time she entered. She was just Darcy, doing what she loved. And looking around in the square, she could tell that everyone else was doing what they loved. It made her heart warm. There was nothing better than to see people living their dreams and sharing their lives together. Darcy was so caught up in all the mushy, gooshy stuff, that she didn't see where she was going. Instead of flying away, like how she felt, she walked straight into someone's painting, which was propped up on a easel. PLUNK! The canvas hit the ground, along with the easel. 'SHIT!'

[/color] she said quickly, trying to catch the damn thing in mid-air. The gesture did not end well. Darcy accidentally kicked the painting further down the ground, and it landed face down. She looked behind her, to see if the artist was there, but they weren't, so she continued to try and pick the thing up.

'Ah, shiieeeet.'[/color] she said as she picked the painting up to inspect the damages. Across the painting, were large, dark skid marks from the asphalt. Darcy felt like she was slapped in the face... what had she done?

Slowly, she resembled the easel and propped the painting back up on top of it. In her mind, she tried to think of what to say to the artist who was unfortunate enough to have her walk by them. She also tried to prepare herself for the fact that she might have to pay for the thing... Oh Darcy.
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call me verbal criminal

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY GUNGOR[/center]

[dell]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 434 ( TAGGED ) DARCY ( WEARING ) CLICK With a short-nailed finger, Presley played with the fraying fabric of her jean shorts; they were going to have to go soon, she realized. They were falling apart after all, and were bordering on ancient. They had belonged to her mother when they’d been about the same age, though her mom was in the height of the era when high-waisted, short jean shorts were in great demand. Now, with the decaying popularity of them, Presley doubted she could find a pair to start her own legacy with; pass them down to her daughter, if she had children that was. She was deign to throw them out, not wanting to discard the ratty things that had stuck with her for a while now. The shorts had been through a lot; worn and torn, spilled on and paint splattered, never would she find anything so enduring. They just didn’t make things like they used to; especially clothes. Sighing to herself, and trying to keep her happy smile on her face, Presley re-threaded her belt through the belt loops, after having taken it off to clean some paint off by chipping it with the eraser-less end of a pencil. It wasn’t odd to see Presley doing such things, so when her friend approached; he was hardly surprised to see her picking at her belt with a pencil. Unconsciously by the outside force of her friend at work, she was pulled away from her art display, and ended up some ten feet from it, much closer to his than to hers. She couldn’t help it really, distraction was her middle name. It was rare to see her concentrating on one thing at once, and when some change in her environment happened, all attention went to that. Strangely, it made her oddly observant, and she rarely missed things that were going on around her. Which was why, of course, she had basically seen the accident happen before it went down. She saw the poor girl walk right into her easel, try to pick it up but only push it farther into the ground. She managed to pick the canvas up though, and Presley rushed over to help her. “Are you alright?” she asked, picking the easel up and rectifying it, noting that a screw had popped out, but none of the wood was broken, and that it would only take her a minute to repair it once she took her tool kit out. “You should watch where you’re walking,” she said with a laugh, taking off her outer shirt and using it to rub the dirt off the easel. don't worry about length (:

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[DARCY MARIE KEHL]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/tvsvE.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px;] kill you up with my lyricals WORDS 381 TAGGED PRESLEY NOTES THANKS XD She was reassured when the artist finally came out to help her resurrect the easel and canvas. A bolt fell out, Darcy noticed, and she picked it up once she heard it hit the ground. She popped back up, with the bolt in her hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm super clumsy."

[/color] she gestured the bolt toward the girl. The feeling of guilt overwhelmed her, and she wanted to make up for it. "I can pay for the painting if you want."[/color] she blurted.

Yes! That was a good idea! Darcy rushed to unzip her jacket and her hoodie within. Inside her hoodie was a secret pocket where she kept her wallet. It was a Kenneth Cole wallet, brand new and was bought with the money from the last Band Competition. In it was about $400. She pulled out all the bills, tucked her wallet under her arm and sorted the bills. "Now, I'm not sure how much the painting is... but you must take some of my money to compensate for it. I can even take it home, if you want it off your hands."[/color]

Darcy looked at the girl through her shades and noticed her vintage shorts. Oh, how cute! They looked legit old. Not the kind of old shorts you buy brand new at the store. The pair looked like they were falling apart. She loved that so much. Her dad always told her, "Anyone can have new shoes. But how many people can get shoes that are ripped up exactly like yours?" That was the theory behind all of her style choices, and it made sense when applied to things like her feathers, glitters and skull covered costumes.

"I like your shorts by the way."
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call me verbal criminal

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY GUNGOR[/center]

[dell]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 484 ( TAGGED ) DARCY ( WEARING ) CLICK A part of Presley wanted to laugh at the girl’s clumsiness and misfortune, but she couldn’t. Though she’d been raised differently that most people, a basic respect for people had been engraved in her from a very young age. Maybe even more so than other children. Because she was raised without a real, concrete religion, her parents relied more on morals and ethics to teach their daughter, since they had no moral code dictated for them. They’d been much freer in their beliefs, and one of the strong ones was that every person on earth was equal and deserved to be treated with respect and kindness and be loved. Words that Presley may have a taken a little too literal; determined to become friends with everyone she met. That wasn’t the intention of her parents when they told her to be nice to everyone, but it was the way she took it. “Thanks love!” she said, taking the bolt from the girl and sticking it in her pocket. “Don’t worry about it,” she laughed her little tinkling laugh. “It’s just a painting. I’ll make tons more. S’long as you’re alright, we can just forget about this.” Presley waved her hand dismissively. It was in fact, just another canvas covered in paint. Yes, she’d put a lot of emotional investment and time into it, but thinking that the situation could’ve turned out much worse -she herself had already suffered quite the nasty injury due to an easel- she was just glad the girl was alright. “No, really,” she pushed the offered money back. “It looks better this way,” she said, laying the painting down on a table. “It had an emotional value, more so. It isn’t worth that much money,” she laughed again, scratching the back of her head. “Now it just has another story to go with it,” she shrugged. It was true. She had trouble selling a lot of her work because she couldn’t put a price on it. Usually, when she sold something, she charged beneath it’s value, unlike a commission, when she did it on the spot in the Square when a couple wanted a painting of them, or a sketch or something. Those she didn’t get too attached too. “Thanks, they were my mom’s actually,” she replied, picking at the shorts yet again. She loved her old, worn out clothes. They felt well-used and loved. Who couldn’t love a pair of shorts that made it through her mother’s teenage years, had been to Woodstock and endured the Summer of Love? They were some of Presley’s faves. “I’m Presley,” she said, sticking out her hand as a formality. Her parents had taught her to respect some rules of society, so when she wanted to hug someone, she shook their hand instead. “It’s nice to meet you!” she finished, pulling her full lips back into a large, wide smile, revealing pearly-white teeth. lalala~

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[DARCY MARIE KEHL]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/tvsvE.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px;] kill you up with my lyricals WORDS 361 TAGGED PRESLEY NOTES -- "You sure?" Darcy said, offering the wad of bills one last time. She insisted that it just added more depth to the painting, which is true to some degree. Darcy wasn't really good at this whole, don't accept no for an answer thing. She knew several people (including her mother) who wouldn't accept presents and wouldn't accept no for an answer. In many ways, she admired those who could sacrifice so much. "Alrighty! If you're sure... Thanks so much."

[/COLOR] Darcy flashed a huge, thankful smile and stuffed the wallet back into her jacket. The girl reminded her of her uber-generous relatives.

"Really, they were your mom's?! Let me take a good look at them."[/color] Darcy didn't hesitate in grabbing the girls shoulders lightly and turning her around so she could do a full 360 degree view. They were truly the real thing. Darcy tried to think if she had anything like it, but was unsuccessful. Perhaps she'd raid her mom's closet or the attic later. Old things seemed to be better the second time around. "How old do you think they are?"[/color] Darcy marvelled at them for one more moment before standing straight again. Even then, she didn't take her eye off them until she introduced herself.

"I'm Darcy, from Kehl and the Creeps."[/color] She shook her hand with enthusiasm. Finally, someone else who liked shaking hands. Darcy didn't do it often, but when she did, people looked at her like she was crazy (especially people her age). But it was reassuring to find another person, close to her age, who also liked to shake peoples' hands. Perhaps it's a fad that's coming back. There was something about it that made people bond. As if their meeting was official, and they can put it in the record books.

"So, are these all of your paintings?"[/color] she took a step toward the side and admired the rest of her paintings. Now that she knew the artist, she could see where the paintings came from. They looked like something she would paint. Suddenly, she had a good idea. A huge grin made its way unto Darcy's face, "Can I commission you for a sketch of me?!"[/color]
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call me verbal criminal

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY GUNGOR[/center]

[dell]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 400 ( TAGGED ) DARCY ( WEARING ) CLICK “Mhm,” Presley said once again and pulled her sheer shirt over her head, poking her head through after brushing some of the dirt off the sullied painting and shaking it out. Now she was stuck wearing a dirty shirt, but it didn’t really matter. More often than not she was rolling around in dirty, completely muddy and half-covered in paint or charcoal, anyway. “Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.” Alright, so she was little bummed that painting was dirty, but at least the canvas hadn’t ripped and it was still in good condition. If she really wanted to, she could just get a sponge and clean it off later, but she rather liked the brown marks now scattered across the painting. “Yeah, they’ve been through a lot, as you can tell,” she said, as the girl spun her around. If she was anyone else this would have been weird, but Presley just went along with it. She wasn’t the type to argue over anything, especially something so small as someone who was taking an interest in her shorts. Her very loved shorts. And she wasn’t the type of person who didn’t like being touched and needed personal space. She was perfectly fine with people touching her, as long as they weren’t hurting her. “Well, they’ve been through Woodstock and the Summer of Love, so probably about forty or forty-five years. They’re pretty ancient and seem to be on their last legs.” “Oh!” she gasped. She had had a feeling she knew the girl, if only in passing. Now, she could pinpoint exactly where. Presley had seen Kehl and the Creeps a few times when they’d performed in the Square, and she quite liked their sound. “I knew I knew you from somewhere!” she exclaimed and shook Darcy’s hand in earnest. “Yeup,” she said, inclining behind her with her mess of curls. “Well, most of them. Some are my dad’s, you can tells the difference,” she finished, pointing a painting out that looked much better than the rest. Her skills weren’t the same as her father’s, and they both had different styles, while his was much prettier than hers. “Sure! I’d be happy to,” Presley said with a smile, eager to actually be able to sketch a... well, a star. Of course, she wasn’t going to charge the girl, but she wasn’t going to tell her that just yet. lalala~

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[DARCY MARIE KEHL]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/tvsvE.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px;] kill you up with my lyricals WORDS 334 TAGGED PRESLEY NOTES -- Whaaat? Forty to forty-five years old? Darcy made a face in shock. Man , those were older than her parents! She laughed at the thought. Presley must be some kind of hippie child... and she loved it. With a huge grin on her face, Darcy was excited to hear that she had heard of her. Truth to be told, she loved all the attention, good and bad, and adored her fans. Sure, there were the few haters, but they didn't stay around long. "Really? You've heard of us?" she giggled with a blush, "What do you think? Pretty indie, huh?" With all the buzz her band had been getting (and other bands too), her music was often described as a mixture of rock n' roll and techno music. An odd combination, but that was how Darcy liked her music. She was excited to hear her agree to the sketch. Darcy squealed, thank you! and pulled out a wooden stool she guessed was used for other portraits. "How's this?" she laughed softly, as she straddled the stool, put her hands in between her legs and whipped her hair to one side. Darcy had to admit, she was a little perverted, but in this case, she was just trying to have some fun. Besides, didn't everyone say that sex sells? Perhaps once she's older and more famous (the thought made Darcy starry eyed), the sketch would be worth like ten million times more -- since it was an original one of her in her early ages. "Or how about this?" Darcy flung herself around on the stool, crossed her legs and tried to look sophisticated. Her back was as straight as an arrow and her her hand curled around her chin as if she was a diplomat. She tried to hold it, but she eventually gave in to the sudden burst of laughter. "Haha, no way, that's totally not me." and went back to her original, rather sexual pose. "Besides, that made my back hurt." call me verbal criminal

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY GUNGOR[/center]

[dell]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 468 ( TAGGED ) DARCY ( WEARING ) CLICK All in all, Presley considered herself quite the music junkie. It didn’t matter what it was, the genre, the style, the band, she’d try it all, and would probably find something she enjoyed about it. She was quite picky with her music, but at the same time she was fairly relaxed with what she listened to. Her favourites were quite distinct, and they would always remain her top ten, five, whatever, though she was open to trying new things and listening to whatever caught her ear. From classic rock to rap to metal, she was fairly sure she enjoyed all of it. Even the cheesy folk music and the country no one really seemed to like. For this reason, Presley was quite familiar with most of the bands that played the Square, and frequently attended their concerts, even if she wasn’t the biggest fan of their music. Concerts in themselves were good enough in Hunter Square that even if you didn’t like the music all that much, you enjoyed yourself anyway. “Yeah, really,” Presley responded with a laugh. She’d caught Kehl and the Creeps only a few times, and their music was different, to say the least. And Presley liked different honestly. “Your sound almost reminds me of Bowie in his earliest days,” Presley rambled on, not being able to help herself when she started talking about something she was passionate about. “When he was mostly doing psychedelic folk, which was some of his best, and during that androgynous time when he was transitioning into glam rock and was still trying to situate himself on the music scene. You guy may need to refine the sound a little more, since sometimes the electronica outpowers the bass, and from what I’ve seen your fans really appreciate the rock a little more, but the electronica is a boost you don’t want to lose since it keeps it interesting.” Presley watched curiously with a goofy smile on her face as the girl tried to place herself. As long as Presley got to move her a little to get the best light, she wasn’t really all that concerned with the way Darcy decided to pose; she could work with it. Turning around, she dipped behind her table to pull out her largest sketch pad, popped up another, unbroken easel, making a mental note to fix the other one when she was finished, and grabbed both her sketch pencils and her charcoals, not having yet decided which would look best. “Did you pick yet?” she said with a laugh and grabbed a stool, placing both the easel and it a good distance away from Darcy. “Or am I going to wait until you find something more comfortable?” she stuck out her tongue and her fingers reached for the pencils, before grabbing the charcoal. lalala~

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[DARCY MARIE KEHL]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/tvsvE.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px;] kill you up with my lyricals WORDS 319 TAGGED PRESLEY NOTES LATE! D: Darcy rolled her eyes slightly and let out a little scoff. "Yes, yes, I've picked a pose."

[/COLOR]She laughed softly as she teased Presley. Motionless, Darcy tried her best to hold the pose. It wasn't easy for her... staying still and focusing on one thing made her restless. In her mind, she tried to think of different scenarios to keep her distracted. It's a lot of fun to play out the fantasies you have in your mind, as it keeps you entertained for a long time.

She thought about singing on stage and the crowd. Oh, if she wasn't staying still, she would have literally shivered. The stage was her place, she knew it. Darcy took a quick glance at Presley, and thought to herself, 'Man, I could get used to this!' Getting a sketch of yourself is quite common in Hunter Square, and she especially liked the art scene here. They always found a way to keep her busy for hours on end.

Darcy thought about her mom and dad, and how they were probably sitting at home, watching tv. In a way, she felt a little sorry for them. They couldn't really appreciate all the art that Hunter Square had to offer. Then again, trying to force them to like it would make them dislike HS. Ah, well, what can you do? But Darcy loved her parents, and they were on extremely good terms.

The somewhat sensual position was held as best as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see people staring, but she didn't do anything about it. In fact, she liked the attention. It would make her memorable, so people would likely want to check out the show. At least, that's what she thought. Darcy could help but feel a little hot. It made sense since it had warmed up a little and she was wearing like three layers of jackets. She cleared her throat lightly and waited for Presley's cue.
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call me verbal criminal

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY GUNGOR[/center]