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Sat, May 16 2026, 9:28am PDT [ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, [5], 6, 7 ]

RD: Café Brio
Welcome to Café Brio! Quaint in atmosphere, but actually quite spacious inside, the café is the number one spot to meet people and just generally loiter around. Open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, the coffee is world-class and the snacks are always fresh. Couches are available for lounging, studying, and even napping. Make yourself at home and stay as long as you would like!
Back to Realistic Dreams

  • Cause the last relationship fucked her up - got hurt majorly, finds it hard to trust.
     -- Alexis Montgomery, Tue, Sep 28 2004, 10:17am PDT
    There was a fair indication that the girl was hanging heavily under the influence of a blurred past that she couldn't get rid of - the effects of it still wearing on her after years. Dark young girl made her way in, a frame of mahogany and amber hair settling stylishly around her features, a well cut pantsuit covering a rather vivacious form, hiding it well for the circumstances, and a leather case in hand. She sidled in, slid off the heels she was wearing and dropped the satchel inside of the door. Job interviews were killer - and to top things off, she felt completely out of her league - though she'd been a prodigy, or considered as much for her entire life, she was still playing with the big boys as far as consulting went. Dropping onto the nearest couch, she propped her feet up and unbuttoned her jacket, starting at the first four buttons of her white blouse.

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  • ...Hungry Eyes...
    -- Shane, Sun, Sep 26 2004, 1:17pm PDT
    He was going crazy at home, with Luke and that broad all over each other. And so, he was back again. He'd dressed hastily, anxious to escape before they'd gone at it on the couch where he was sitting, in an old white t-shirt and jeans. Dark spikes were in a dissaray, his unshaven face growing rough. Which didn't look half-bad on him, only increasing his look of ruggedness. Black eyes scanned the room, as he realized he was starved of both company and food. Wandering into the kitchen, the best he could come up with was a bag of chips, which he left in their place. Opening the fridge, he removed a Corona and took a swig. Good enough.

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  • Dry your eyes, mate.. -- Ivy, Sun, Sep 26 2004, 2:51pm PDT
    A good night out, sipping drinks at the edge of the bar and being carded at every establishment that she attempted to enter, had cured the pixie's homesickness or at least curbed her thought train toward the hangover that she nursed this morning. Being of her tiny stature, and not overly experienced with the drink, the firey redhead had taken in more than she could handle and been escorted home by a bouncer when they finally peeled her away from one of the smaller, hole-in-the-wall bars at the strip around 2am. Now, she wore a pair of dark glasses, and a thick, lumpy cardigan cinched tightly around her narrow waist, a pair of white fleece pants belted a few inches lower and a pair of sloppy flip flops slapping against the bottoms of her feet. Her short, rust colored hair was tousseled and mussed beyond recognition. She went directly to the kitchen, to the cupboard, and pulled a bag of Oreos and a bottle of ibuprofene and a glass of water before meandering into the main area - pleased to discover that her window seat was uninhabited and free for her to take as usual.

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  • We stand in our civilian clothes... -- Darren Olsen, Sun, Sep 26 2004, 5:31pm PDT
    Dandelions in bullet holes
    we stand in our civilian clothes
    on blankets laid out on a lawn
    clouds of rain will all move on
    and when the mist clears you will see
    all of our names on a marquee
    across the ocean the same day
    and then washed ashore a block away


    He'd handled his first day in this alien society with a great deal of gusto, and a permissable amount of forgetting about the past years, the other places, the other faces, those nights of longing, and so was back for more torture. It wasn't rain that ushered him in this time, however, but an almost obnoxiously glaring sun - his hair in the same fuzzy shape it had been in after the rain nonetheless. A cutout of his physique splashed across the floor as the young man, dealt out in a "Vote or Die" tshirt and his trusty faded corduroys and sneaks stood in the door a moment, prepared for what horrible memories and mental attacks might come his way, but found the sun to be a suitable bodyguard, faithful and forceful, keeping away anything undesirable. A small smile flickered across the twenty-something's full lips and he took one smooth step into the room, breathing a mental sigh of relief.

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  • .x.+.x.Living In Nightmares.x.+.x.(Brandon) -- Jet Santos, Thu, Sep 23 2004, 2:00pm PDT



    "I feel the same way about you to you seem to be alot like me, I am really bad at guitar,"

    .+.She laughs at his singin ablity, wow laughing that is a good sign. She usually just nods her head when she is asking about someones past. She sqeezed his hand. She like the idea of being in a band. She had one bad experience only because the drummer screwed her life up. But she forgave him and she isn't the one to hold grudges. She wondered what was running threw his mind, most guys said the football game on TV, but he seemed orginal and talented and a guy that could go far in life. She had her light pink cheeks still tinted. She was glad she was he with him instead of a heartbreaker. She like Brandon he was everything she wanted, she want to know something but wasn't sure she should ask because it might be a little awkward so she acted on the curiosity told her to do. She leaned over and kisses his cheek, a black red lip imprint left as she pulled away.+.

    "I like you Brandon, your everything I wanted in a guy,"

    .+.Her cheeks started to turn a red tint and she put her gaze to the ground. Her black long locks fall into her face. Her skull earings dang down past on the collar bone. She wonders what his reaction would he want to move that fast, or if he was the kinda guy who didn't want to move the fast pitch game. Her silver cross held tightly around her neck, she lifted her head up to look at Brandon.+.

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  • ~* You Don't Own Me *~
    -- Lenora, Sun, Sep 26 2004, 1:02pm PDT
    ~* The Sicilian beauty wandered into the lodge, a smug grin lighting her features inexplicably. Her big brother seemed to have shrunk away from public lately, and she was fine with that. It let her escape his demanding, overbearing, loud, short-tempered bossiness. He'd kill her if he saw what she was wearing, harmless as it was. A simple black halter top and jeans, paired with her constant delicate golden watch and diamond stud earrings. Tucking a strand of glimmering raven black hair behind one ear, she stopped to peer out a window. Warm amber eyes, laced heavily with thick black lashes, stared out absently. A life filled with danger had made boring times seem..well..more boring than they really were. *~

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  • >>Deal With It<< -- Naija Husoff, Sat, Sep 25 2004, 9:11pm PDT
    ::Woman of Indian descent walked onto the pavement. Roller luggage trailing behind her. Wind blew slightly and embraced each and every strand of her brunette hair. Almond eyes peeked up and noticed everyone huddled in by the the warmth through the window. Step by step, right hand fought to hold her slim jacket together, for she felt a slight chill. Hand lifted off and enclosed on the door the knob and opened the door slightly ajar. Head peeked through and fully opened the door. Vixen stood there letting the warm atmoshpere surround her. Eyes closed visualizing a toasty bed. She opened up her almond eyes and noticed people looking at her. She hunched a little, a bit shy and entered and closed the door behind her. She set her bag down against the wall and went to the table stand to get a cup of hot cocoa. The savory smelly filled her nostrils as she took a sip. A little hot but she enjoyed it. Naija took her cup and sat on the couch::

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  • my systems down, got an overload of hate, got a bad attitude with no intent to change -- anthony esperance, Wed, Sep 22 2004, 7:31pm PDT
    brooding male stepped across the lawn towards the lodge, after slamming the door of the scarlet car he had emerged from. pale hand pocketed the keys, as he stomped up the stairs, across the verandah and into the lodge. mascu walked with the easy spring of someone who had endless confidence and charm. sure he had charm, when he wanted something...or someone. stormy optics glanced around the room, taking in everything quietly. he frowned, why was he here again? oh that’s right, after another drinking binge he’d been chucked out of his own apartment by his girlfriend. well, ex girlfriend now. he’d had no where else to take his alcoholic ass and start over again, so here he was. no one knew him here, he was pretty sure about that. unless of course they were familiar with his record label or the bands that were signed to it. anthony sighed then grabbed a corona from the fridge. he wasn’t going to kick his habit easily.

    all i need is a bottle and i don't need no friends
    i swallow as i pretend to act like i'm happy
    when i drink to no end
    i'm losing all my friends
    i'm losing in the end


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  • So take me back to the place that I miss, cause this is a waste of money - that's all this is.. -- Ivy, Fri, Sep 24 2004, 1:57pm PDT
    I heard you play guitar
    You got pedals around your feet like rocks around a fire
    I don't know if we'll meet, I don't know who you are
    You're just a traveled ghost that I admire from afar

    Under the houselights
    Me and you and the last bit of our pints
    Well, I could carry a case or two up a couple of flights
    The room with the Sir John A. view opens up to the night


    Huddled in the window seat that was her typical perch, and wrapped in the security of a heavy fleecy blanket with a large gray horse charging through a shallow pool emblazoned on it, the normally spunky young girl sat. Her emerald hued eyes taking in the goings-on of the room with a touch of melancholy and anxiety evident in their depths. In the safe cocoon of her arms and her blanket, she was lost in her own silent reverie.

    The soft rain that fell outside didn't much help her mood - normally the quirky, witty, redhaired pixie in the corner eating Oreos, today she was overtaken by another type of mood, another type of attitude. Her lips were drawn together in a sort of apprehensive, pensive curve, and her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket holding it tight to her. It wasn't often that the young girl missed Scotland, but today was definitely one of the days that she loathed America and wanted nothing more than to go home - the weather didn't help, as didn't the fact that she couldn't share her feeling with anyone - Callum wouldn't understand and Sean was nowhere to be found. Occasionally she wished she had a female confidante to whom she could pour out her tears, pour out her worries, but the majority of the time still appreciated being another one of the boys. A heavy sigh wracked her body, heaving the girl's narrow shoulders in the safe shelter of her blanket.

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  • ~-~ She's like the wind, through my dreams. She rides the night, next to me..~-~
    -- Kellina, Wed, Sep 22 2004, 3:21pm PDT
    ~-~ Vixen entered the lodge, rather hastily as she was being chased by a rather cool breeze that hinted at drops of rain. Running her hands up and down her slim bronze arms, she attempts to warm herself. Dressed soley in a loose white t-shirt and a pair of old and worn-out Levi's, she wasn't clothed for warmth. After a few moments of curling up on the couch with her arms circling her knees, she felt warm enough to be social. Her soft blonde waves moved loosely about her shoulders, turbulant greyish blue eyes appraising the occupants of the lodge with slight interest. Sure enough, soon after, raindrops began tapping against the roof impatiently. Smiling mysteriously to herself, she reclined against the squishy cushion of her perch and looked out the window. ~-~

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  • Dandelions in bulletholes, we stand in our civilian clothes.. -- Darren Olsen, Mon, Sep 20 2004, 4:11am PDT
    A hula hoop, a human chain
    to warm our hands and find out way
    when all the lights go out.
    a raincoat and a french beret
    the rolling hills of past mistakes
    the quiet under cloud.
    And I will long look to the churning sea
    this call to arms means wrap them around the first person that you see.


    Hands tucked in his pockets, head down to avoid the pelting on the heavy fall rain, the young man hurried toward the lodge, his thick curls weighted down with the wetness, little rivulets of wayward rain zigzagging across his smooth forehead. Giving a little shake to his head as he reached for the doorknob, an entire scene flashed before his eyes - two years ago in Ellerdale when he'd first come upon a place like this. Her smile, the way the sun glinted off of her blonde hair just so. The crochet haltertop that she wore to the protests - they were images so clearly printed in his head that he wondered if he'd just wandered in one giant circle these entire two years. He shook his head again, but this time for the effect of shaking the cobwebby memories out of his head. He wasn't one to pine for someone, to miss someone, especially a girl, and it didn't happen very often that he thought of her and their long, tangled, strung out nights, but it happened occasionally. He checked these images, filed them back away in the drawer of his mind of things to forget, and then pulled the door open. There. It wasn't like Ellerdale at all - it was an entirely different place, entirely different people - this would be a nice fresh start after nights in dusty cars, sleeping by the light of the radio, and seedy hotels with stains on the sheets. He almost let a sigh of relief.

    He wore a black shirt with cagey white print stating "War is Murder" and a faithful pair of worn corduroy pants, equally faithful sneaks slapping the floor until he realized what a puddle they made and toed them off onto the welcome mat. The warmth of the lodge was a welcome change from the cold of his travels - whether he had been in a heated bus or walking down the street, there was always a coldness - always something that chilled him to the bone until he could settle down once again. He went toward the fire, hoping to get rid of the chill.

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  • You Cannot Kill What You Did Not Create -- Brandon, Sat, Sep 18 2004, 7:56am PDT


    mascu entered the lodge, for the first time in a couple weeks. he had met a few people since he had been here, but none had seen or heard from him in months. he shrugged. brandon didn't really care one way or the other. the whole world was turned against him anyway, for no damn reason at that.
    dressed in a faded old garage band tee and some blue jeans with his ever present canvas shoes, he moved to the kitchen area, grabbing a wine cooler, flavor Pina Colada, from the fridge then plopping down on a couch, propping his feet up on the table directly across from him. he sipped at the wine cooler, optics watching the lodge.

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  • ....Smoke Rings in the Dark....
    -- Shane, Mon, Sep 13 2004, 3:50pm PDT
    He found himself out on the porch in the approaching sunset, looked rugged and scruffy as ever. His black hair was carelessly spiked and his long, toned, muscular, carefully honed body was clothed in a black beater and black pants with silver pinstripes. Eyes darker than night swept across the porch and finally settled on the wide empty steps. He settled himself down on them (more like sprawled across them) and lit a cigarette immediatly. If none of the girls would let him go for the heavy stuff anymore, he'd have to go back to smoking. Olive-complected skin gleams in the reddish-orange light as he exhales a slither of smoke, distractedly staring across the yard. When the dark got closer, he blew smoke in rings, watching them fade into the night boredly.

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  • I go back to watchin' summer fade to fall
    Growin' up too fast and I do recall
    Wishing time would stop right in it's tracks
     -- Christian, Sun, Sep 19 2004, 11:53am PDT
    After spending the past few days holed up in his apartment, he was feeling no more inspired now than he had been before. He had left the city in hopes that such a drastic change would be enough to help him ditch the writer's block that he was suffering from, but so far the move was doing little. Shoulders slumped just slightly, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans as he made his way slowly up the walk, just a white tee fit to his slender torso - at the very least he was determined to enjoy the blue skies and break in the rain. Scuffing his feet as he walked, his bright gaze remained locked on the pavement ahead of him - once again lost in his own world...


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  • I don't care and you can't stop me -- Kineta, Sat, Sep 18 2004, 3:38pm PDT

    she meandered in unhurriedly. she had been in town the the last few days, trying to spice up her life. so far she had seen her cousin, met one person and took an incredible trip down memory lane and up the old summer camp driveway. this place was had such a camp atmosphere, sometimes she wondered if she was her rebellious, gangly 13 year-old self again. her small hands were hidden in the kangaroo pocket of her black hoodie that she wore to insulate her from the coolish breeze moving up on the area. her favorite trees, the weeping willows, waved their sad branches at her as she walked past and up the stairs of the lodge. she sunk into a porch swing, curling her short legs beneath her. . . just enjoying the evening.

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  • Follow His Star -- Andromeda, Thu, Sep 16 2004, 4:07pm PDT



    mascu entered the lodge, the second time in about three days. he smiled to himself as he wandered in, looking around. tired and worn out canvas shoes tottered across the wooden floor as he plopped down into a chair, the same one he had occupied not even 48 hours ago.
    trying to get settled in took a lot out of the 22 year old. and being new didn't help any, although he didn't give a fuck anyways. bearing a black shirt with the phrase Distorted Mind and baggy black pants hung off his lithe frame. his eyes watched the door, looking for no one in particular.












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  • .x.+.x.Living In Nightmares.x.+.x. -- Jet Santos, Sat, Sep 18 2004, 6:32am PDT

    .+.Jet walked down the cold pavement that looked to unwelcoming but she was never welcome anywhere anyways so she diecided it was the way to go. The broken bottles on the side curb where art work in the making. She took out her camra and found a good angle and snapped a piece of now history to her. She wished she could do that to guys, but every guy she knew treated her like the dirt on the bottom there shoe. God men suck lame ass dirt bag scum. She pushed the thoughts away and contuined to walk down the cold bitter wricken streets of her new home. She wears her black silk bondage pants like they where the best pants in the world. Her Jack the Pumpkin King messenger bag swinging like monkeys in the high tree tops in a Tropical Rain forest that is being destroyed by the man kind that she wish could stop. She stopped at the lodge and looked around to see if anyone was actually around in there. She saw a few wandering hopeless souls go into the lodge. She quickly followed them in. Her black comboots making thuds as she walked into the place where the dust leathers took her. She looked around, being new sucked and well being as she didn't like most people also sucked so she might as well give it a try.+.

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  • Can you tell a green field
    From a cold steel rail?
    A smile from a veil?
    Do you think you can tell?
     -- Isabelle, Thu, Sep 16 2004, 10:11am PDT
    She had awoken that morning to a brighter grey sky and so was out here to make the most of the break in rain. Sitting on the edge of one of the porch steps - her knees bent and feet on the step just below - she rested her chin in one hand and watched with a small smile as her two lumbering dogs raced around the lawns, playing some form of canine tag as near as she could tell. Chocolate-colored cords fit to her hips and an off-white sweater to her torso, she was content in the fresh early-day, and even as she felt the first drops of a light spit fall on her, she just scooted up a step to sit beneath the overhang of the building. The miserable weather that she had arrived to and was supposed to continue for a few more days was actually welcome - a little bit of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar place...

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