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Post by Dawson Gerrick Schaffer on Dec 11, 2010 14:09:39 GMT -7
It was hot. It was just too god-awful hot here. If there was one thing that Dawson didn’t like about North Carolina, it would have to be the weather. And if there was one thing that he missed about Wisconsin, it was the weather. It was December. There should be snow on the ground and it should be fifteen degrees. There should be snow days and snow hills and ice skating outdoors and skiing and just everything that came with winter! It still blew Dawson’s mind to see Christmas decorations up everywhere when it was seventy degrees, and the inhabitants of North Carolina thought nothing of it. It just wasn’t right to him. Where he was from, once it hit October, it started getting chilly. It wouldn’t be the first time if you went trick-or-treating in your snow pants. But here in North Carolina, hell, most of the kids probably didn’t even have snow pants! And these accents... Man, they just got him. If Dawson had a ton of friends or people to talk to at all, really, he would probably spend a lot of time with them just laughing about their accents. Then again, there were people who looked at him strange when he spoke, because of how different he sounded from them. He hadn’t been living in North Carolina long enough to contract the accent, and so he still sounded like he lived in northern Wisconsin.
But it was only a matter of time, right? Before he knew it, Dawson would be considered a legit resident of Riverdale, North Carolina. For now it was only his first year of school here, but he knew that at least until he graduated, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was stuck here. It wasn’t like Dawson wanted to go back home – hell, that was the last thing he wanted. He never wanted to return to Wisconsin. But the weather here, it was enough to make him just want to get the hell out of here right now. He could move to Canada or Alaska. The northern parts, far enough away from people that he wouldn’t have to worry about any of them. He could be alone, he could be by himself. He would have a notebook and a laptop and that was all he needed. He could go hunting for his meals and provide for himself, not relying on anyone. That would be all he needed. No neighbors for hundreds of miles on all sides, just he and himself and a way to write. He could send in his work via the internet and still get published, still have a way to make money. Not that Dawson would really need money for anything up in northern Alaska. All he really needed money for would be to get a place to live. After that, he would just have himself, and that was enough.
For now, though, Dawson was stuck in Riverdale. The young boy walked slowly through the park with notebook in hand, as usual. There were a few people around, but no one bothered him. He was by himself, just the way he liked it. His current plan was to keep walking down this path until he found himself at his favorite bench, underneath his favorite tree. There were rarely people there, and it was just a great place for him to write, in his opinion. It was almost like it was hidden, how no one else in the park hardly went there. The thought of sitting there and scribbling away for hours almost – just almost – brought a smile to Dawson’s face. But any trace of that was wiped away when he got closer and saw someone sitting there. Lovely. Dawson hugged his notebook close to his chest and glared at whoever it was, turning around and starting down another path. If whoever it was caught him glaring, he’d be dead. Dawson wasn’t confrontational; he wouldn’t know what to do. His walking speed increased substantially as the thought of what would happen if the person did see filled his head, and he was hardly paying attention to where he was walking now. He soon found himself down a path he’d never seen before, and he may not have known where he was, but there were no people here and he was grateful for that. Dawson continued until he found himself near a ravine. He’d never seen this before... Dawson crept close to the edge, dangerously close, peering over the edge. It was a long fall. He moved a few inches closer, a few rocks tumbling down as he did, and his hands clutched nervously at his notebook, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. He just stared...
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Post by andrei on Dec 16, 2010 22:37:01 GMT -7
 WAKE UP, WAKE THE SUN hanging there like a chain, wake up [/font] • • • • • • • • • • • DAWSON SCHAFFER ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center] After a full year without any sort of technology, not even for school, Andrei was thrilled to be able to use a computer again. What was a nerd to do without a computer? Suffer, that’s what. Andrei, admittedly, had done some minor hacking since getting his access to technology back. It was nothing too big as of yet, nothing big enough to get him in trouble at least. He was spending more time improving codes for people than anything else. After all, he didn’t want to get in trouble again. Andrei didn’t fully understand why he had had his technology taken away in the first place, he had just obeyed his parole out of fear of going to prison. Andrei couldn’t possibly express just how hard it had been to obey his parole, whimpering every time he walked past a computer or had to borrow a cell phone from a friend to call his foster mother. Andrei was addicted to technology like a drug addict was addicted to cocaine, having had actual withdraw symptoms for the first few months he was on parole. You can bet that he was glad to have his computer back, damn near inseparable from it now. If he didn’t have his little notebook computer on hand he had his iPhone with him. Taking this boy away from either one of them was quite impossible now that he had them back.
Right now was no different, Andrei’s iPhone in his hand as he walked. He was delivering a letter to his brother, or at least he was supposed to be delivering a letter. Dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans, a bright red Babycakes tee shirt and a comic book print hoodie, he was quite snug and colourful. His shoes were Thing 1 and Thing 2 Converse and on his wrist was his puzzle piece medic alert bracelet, which had Eunice’s phone number on the back of it. In his pockets was a packet of red vines and a toy he had found on the ground, his hands holding his letter and his phone with a lollipop in his mouth. Black hair hung on his eyes, in desperate need of a haircut, and he desperately avoided accidentally brushing against someone as he passed them on the streets. He had gotten pretty good at weaving through crowds so he didn’t touch anyone, though as he continued to grow it was getting more and more difficult. He was still getting broader and had put in a little weight since not having his computer, which meant that the technique that he had developed wasn’t as successful. He brushed against a few people as he walked, heading toward the post office, and both times he jumped and squeaked before continuing to walk.
Something distracted Andrei from his quest to the post office, watching a scruffy kitty cat run across the street, dodging cars, and run behind some buildings. Curious about if the kitty had owners looking for it, he followed it behind the buildings and toward a more nature-dense area of town. “Here kitty kitty,”
[/color] he called in his soft voice, laced with his Italian accent. His dark brown eyes were wide as he looked for the kitty cat, unable to see the scruffy creature. Though he could see a figure of a person coming into view, finally figuring out where he had wandered to. The ravine was really close by, which he could hear now that he was paying attention. “Oh…”[/color] he thought out loud, pocketing his phone and his letter and pulling the lollipop out of his mouth, which he had still been munching on while calling for the kitty. Andrei was torn now, considering his options carefully. He could keep looking for the kitty and ignore the figure he saw, he could turn around and go to the post office, or he could try and talk to the person. Eunice did tell him that he needed to make more friends…Andrei chose to walk toward the figure, who was a boy around his age. “You’re gunna’ fall in,”[/color] he informed the boy in his quite little voice before sticking the lollipop back in.[/justify] [/blockquote] words: 696 outfit: clicky! lyrics: the matches, wake the sun notes: <3[/blockquote] |
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Post by Dawson Gerrick Schaffer on Dec 22, 2010 16:07:44 GMT -7
Dawson had actually put quite a lot of thought into his plans after high school. Most kids his age were worrying about college, trying to figure out where they’d go, if they’d get accepted, how they were going to save money, all those worries. But Dawson? He wasn’t thinking about any of that. Hell, he wasn’t even considering it. There was no way in hell that anyone was going to get him into a college. He wouldn’t go even if his parents tried to force him. Of course, Dawson respected his parents. There was no doubt about that. And what they’d done for him, getting him out of Wisconsin like that, and bringing him here, where he was safe? It was undoubtedly the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for him, and could ever do. But that didn’t quite equate to something as important as this, his future and where he went and what he did with his life. College was just out of the question. If middle school and part of high school had been this bad, then there was no way that Dawson would go out of his way to endure even more schooling. If he wanted to be something like a doctor, well, then that would be different.
But there was no way in hell that Dawson Schaffer would ever, ever, be interested in becoming a doctor. If he didn’t like being around people, then why would he want to get into a career where he saved them for a living? Technically, he was still dealing with the human race as an author, but it was in an indirect, roundabout way. A way that Dawson could deal with. After all, the only people he’d be dealing with the most closely would be his editor and publishing company. After that, he didn’t care about anyone. He would definitely be one of those aloof authors who never went to book signings or answered phone calls or dealt with fans at all. Hell, Dawson didn’t even care if he had fans. Getting money didn’t even matter to him. After all, like he’d said, he had his entire life all planned out, or at least what he was going to do after high school. When he moved up to northern Alaska, or Canada, or Greenland, after all, he didn’t need to worry about money. He was going to fend for himself, never depending on anyone else but himself. And if he wasn’t dealing with people, he didn’t need the money! Well, a few dollars never hurt, but he knew he’d get just that off of his writing, and that was going to be enough to get him through his life comfortably.
Dawson’s definition of the word ‘comfortable’ differed greatly from that of others. What Dawson considered comfortable was a little cabin up in the mountains, surrounded by snow and nothing else but snow. He’d chop his own wood and keep his house warm, he’d hunt. In the summer he’d have a little garden so he could get some fresh vegetables. He’d have fruit trees, whatever ones can survive the climate he’d live in. And of course, only if he had to, he’d be within flying distance of a grocery store, if he just had to get in contact with others. Necessities were necessities, after all. How else was he going to get more paper? How was he going to get more paper now, Dawson thought fleetingly, as he jumped a little when he heard a voice behind him and his notebook almost went tumbling down into the ravine and the rushing water below. That was the only thing he thought. He wasn’t worried about himself, as he’d jumped back slightly at the boy’s voice. He was only worried about his paper. After all, that meant getting in contact with others if he had to go to the store. Dawson slowly, slowly turned around to face the boy in front of him. Somehow... he seemed different. Dawson didn’t have a problem with him. He didn’t mind his presence. “I-I,” he stammered, blinking and shaking his head a little, clutching his notebook close defensively. “I’m f-fine.” Two simple words, but for Dawson, two words were a lot.
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Post by andrei on Jan 10, 2011 23:50:05 GMT -7
WAKE UP, WAKE THE SUN hanging there like a chain, wake up [/font] • • • • • • • • • • • DAWSON SCHAFFER ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center] Andrei wasn’t the kind of person who planned that far ahead, mostly because his brain simply didn’t work that way. Eunice had tried talking to him about his future plans but Andrei always ended up bringing himself into the world inside of his head that no one else was allowed into. She had desperately tried to get Andrei to think ahead, but it always sent him into silence for the rest of the night. Andrei wanted to be able to think ahead like any normal human being, but it was pretty much impossible. Andrei knew that he wanted to do something with computers, maybe weapons since he had helped tinker with a few home made bombs when he was still with his brother, but that was as far as he got. It was hard enough for him to tell Eunice that he wanted to work with computers, let alone do anything else. Communication wasn’t exactly Andrei’s strongest quality; he was lucky if he could tell you that the animal was furry, let alone that it was a dog. Most people didn’t take the time to learn how to talk to him, so he never knew what he was supposed to say. The only people who he could really talk to were his brother and a social worker from when the trials were going on and he had stopped all talking because he was so distraught by the changes going on. Nero had, over time, developed a relent for prying information out of his little brother, asking questions in just the right way to get simple “yes” or “no” answers from him. It had been like that for a while before he had developed an even stronger talent for forcing Andrei to say more than just one syllable.
The boy desperately missed his brother and was barely able to understand why Nero was in prison in the first place. Andrei had been raised to believe that what they had been doing was completely okay, completely unaware that hacking into government websites and bank accounts was not a good thing to do. He could remember the terror and confusion he felt when he was arrested as if it was yesterday, shrieking and crying and trying to get out of the handcuffs that restrained him. He hadn’t understood what was happening to him and why and reacted the only way he knew how: the shrieking. That had been when Andrei was officially diagnosed with autism, pardoned from his cybercrime because he had been led to believe that it was morally correct to do. Andrei still believed that it was okay to do; the only reason he was hesitant to hack any more was because the social worker had taken him to visit Nero in prison and it had absolutely terrified the boy, more than getting arrested had scared him. He had been told that if he hacked he would go to prison, and since he was afraid of prison he was hesitant to commit another cybercrime.
Andrei had made a promise to Nero in his last letter that he wouldn’t get into trouble and that he would try and make some friends, and that was a promise that Andrei was bent on sticking to. Nero may have done some bad things, but he didn’t think that he was a bad guy. He was simply taking care of his little brother in the only ways he knew how. Someone had yet to tell Andrei that murder was a crime, obviously otherwise Andrei would be rethinking his high held opinion of his brother. So he figured that he would talk to the boy near the ravine, or at least give it a shot. He hadn’t meant to startle the guy, not at all, so he felt bad for doing so. Andrei gave a little nod at the boy’s assurance and searched for his words. He knew what he wanted to say, but when he went to speak the words were lost. He was quiet for a long moment before finally finding the words. “I’m Andrei Raphael De Grazia,”
[/color] he announced, having the habit of using his complete name. “What’s that?”[/color] he inquired about the notebook.[/justify] [/blockquote] words: 700 outfit: clicky! lyrics: the matches, wake the sun notes: <3[/blockquote] |
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Post by Dawson Gerrick Schaffer on Jan 16, 2011 13:50:35 GMT -7
There were a lot of people in today’s world, most, actually, who believed that you couldn’t get anywhere in life if you didn’t have a college education. Basically a majority of this country, and maybe even the world, thought that you were basically going to be a failure in life. Even many famous actors and actresses, musicians, athletes, they all go to college first before they make their millions. You won’t find many authors who didn’t attend a university after they finished high school. But Dawson, he wasn’t worried about that. He didn’t care what the rest of the world thought; he was going to do whatever made him happy. Hell, he didn’t even care about the whole making millions part. He just needed enough money to live, and that wasn’t going to take a lot when he was going to live up in the mountains by himself. He would still be successful, however. No one in their right mind would call Dawson Schaffer unsuccessful. Even away from people and not spending any time communicating, ever, he was still going to affect people and do something with his life that he enjoyed and loved. Writing, it was Dawson’s passion. There was nothing else he wanted to do. Sure, Dawson was a creature of habit and wouldn’t try anything new anyway, but he knew that writing was what he wanted to do.
The only other thing that Dawson ever did with his life was stealing. It was a strange hobby, really, and not one that anyone would ever suspect when he or she first looked at Dawson. He was a quiet, strange kid, that was true, but he wasn’t the type of weird kid that you thought was ever going to bring a gun to school. But he stole, he truly did. It was the thrill of it that got him. It was like that adrenaline rush he got every time he got away with something was the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing he thought made life worth living. A week never went by without Dawson nicking something from a department store or a gas station. And over the years, he’d gotten better at it. It had helped him through his depression at his old school, and it helped keep him afloat here, too. The knife collecting, however, was more of a simple hobby. A strange one for someone of his age, but he really enjoyed it. He was harmless with them, too. Dawson had never learned to throw them or use them as a weapon, and he didn’t ever plan on that. Quiet and withdrawn, Dawson was a very peaceful boy and never wished harm on anyone. Not even on the people that had made his life an utter living hell a few years ago before he attempted suicide. No, not even them. That was cruel, and Dawson was the farthest from cruel that a person could be.
Stealing was probably the only thing Dawson did that he enjoyed that involved other people. And really, there was no direct contact or communication with other people in the process, which was key. The only way Dawson would end up talking to someone from it would be if he got caught, which definitely wasn’t in his plans. Either way, though, it was the only activity he engaged in that he enjoyed that involved people. Granted, it was one of only two activities he really enjoyed, the other being writing. That was one thing that he always got to do by himself, and he loved it. Dawson wouldn’t be himself without writing. Well, he enjoyed walking, too, that was true... But not when it ended in communication like this one was. Dawson, as discussed, wasn’t a mean person; he wasn’t about to ignore this boy. And, he couldn’t deny it, he was cute... Shit, he didn’t just think that, did he? Ahh this wasn’t good. Dawson didn’t need to look at anyone romantically, it just wouldn’t end well. Just coming out and telling other people about his sexuality, not even getting involved with anyone, had seriously fucked up his entire life last time. This kid seemed nice enough, though... Not about to attack him for being the person he was... “I-I’m Dawson,” he replied after a quick hesitation, not bothering to tack on the rest of his name. He wouldn’t ever talk to this kid again, would he? People never talked to him more than once; he scared them off... Dawson could feel his face reddening as he turned his eyes down to his notebook. “It’s... it’s just s-something I write in...” How else could he describe it, anyway? It was his, that was all.
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Post by andrei on Feb 2, 2011 17:26:48 GMT -7
WAKE UP, WAKE THE SUN hanging there like a chain, wake up [/font] • • • • • • • • • • • DAWSON SCHAFFER ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center] There was a lot going on in Andrei’s mind that he would never be able to express to people. His mind was constantly buzzing with numbers and equations and facts and he could remember being really little and writing these things down on Post-its and sticking them all over his brother’s walls. As a child he had rarely spoken to people, with no idea how to socialize with others and no idea how to play with other children. He was still as a loss as to how to socialize, more often than not forced to suck it up and deal. Unlike a lot of kids like himself Andrei hadn’t had a lot of the opportunities that he could. He hadn’t been able to do therapy to help him catch up and he hadn’t had very much help in elementary school. Most of Andrei’s life had been spent in his own little world, his brother corrupting his delicate mind to believe that the crime that they were doing was alright. He still had problems understanding that stealing was wrong, and even murder wasn’t that big of a deal to him. People often found that shocking, but they had to remember that Andrei’s only real experience with death was far too early for him to remember. At least he was getting the kind of help that he needed, with people helping him in school and going to therapy to develop life skills. He wanted to be able to work and be independent even if it was highly unlikely that that would ever happen.
When it came to his sexuality, Andrei had always found it completely normal to like men. He had seen Nero with all of these girls, but it had never occurred to him that liking boys was different. He hadn’t really seen the difference in male and female other than the gentiles, which he didn’t think was that big of a deal. It wasn’t that Andrei was open about his sexuality, because he wasn’t open about anything, but he definitely wasn’t ashamed to like boys. The term “gay” was completely new to him and he wasn’t until high school when he started to realize that it wasn’t a normal thing to be or feel. The other boys likes girls and called him names that he had never heard of before and didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense to him, why they would say these things when he thought that it was normal to feel like he did. It hadn’t really caused him too much trouble though, because most people were afraid to hurt him in case his gangster brother found out. For Andrei being gay was nothing out of the ordinary and it was nothing to be ashamed of and if he was able to communicate like everyone else he would probably be the next Harvey Milk. Either way he definitely thought that this guy was pretty damn attractive.
It was times like this when Andrei wished that he was normal. That his brain worked like everyone else’s. He knew what he wanted to say but he had no idea what words to use. He had no idea how to go about attempting a friendship with this cute boy, who may or may not go to the same school as him. Ah, this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t he just be normal for one little moment? He felt like a blubbering idiot right now. “What kind of writing?”
[/color] he asked despite having something totally different in mind to say. “Like…stories? Or like a journal?”[/color] he clarified. Well, at least he got that much out. Eunice had once suggested that Andrei start a diary but he didn’t have the motivation to keep up with it. Boldly, Andrei walked closer to the boy so there was only a few feet between them. He looked familiar, very familiar. “Do you go to Riverdale high?”[/color] he then asked.[/justify] [/blockquote] words: 654 outfit: clicky! lyrics: the matches, wake the sun notes: <3[/blockquote] |
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