District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 28, 2017 12:57:09 GMT -7
It was difficult to believe that the war was over just a little over a year ago. The district was rebuilding itself and with the help of some machinery given to them by The Capitol for his father, the mayor's, support, they were able to build back a lot faster than they normally would have. Den's house, or his father's house he would say, was in perfect condition. It didn't get touched at all and just by looking at it, one would think it had never seen a ten year war. But that was because while the rest of the district was being destroyed during fire fights and bombings, his father made sure that there were more soldiers surrounding their home than actually protecting people. Somehow, by some miracle that Den knew his father didn't deserve, the house and the family made it out of the war alive and in tact. Which he couldn't say for everyone. Most people's homes were destroyed and many people died in the war. As Den walked down the street from the warehouse he worked at, he saw beggars and dirty children without their parents walking the streets. The District had been bad before the war started, but now it was worse. Although the mayor had supported The Capitol, there were many who rebelled. Now the rebels lurked in the shadows and Den knew that this war wasn't over. Maybe decades from now, another uprising would take place. And he knew that District 8 would be one of the ones to start it. If the war hadn't ended when it did, he was sure that District 8 would have belonged to the rebels, that's how strong they had become in the district. And now with the way his father ran things, even more strict than before, he would be surprised if someone didn't assassinate him. Den kept his head down, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets. It was nearing winter and most of the people who lived in the streets would be dead in a few months, either from the cold or starvation. The warehouse he worked at was the farthest one from his house, it wasn't by accident. He'd specifically asked to work at the warehouse doing shipping exports to The Capitol so that he could be as far away from his father as possible. His father thought it was a good idea to work, even though Den initially said he wanted to just be a laborer at the warehouse. His father thought it would teach him some good work ethic, plus it made the family looked good. He convinced his son to train for the manager position, so in another year, Den would be in charge. It frustrated him the way his father always took over his life like that, but whatever job he had at the warehouse wasn't something he'd fight over. Den had to choose his battles and this one just wasn't that important to fight over. As he walked down the streets, he caught sight of the Mitten's thrift store. Usually he'd take the long way around which added an extra ten minutes to his walk home, but his mother had been sick for the past week and she'd gotten worse today. He wanted to get home to her to take care of her. Den hastened his steps and lowered his head even more before pulling the hood over head as he passed by the thrift store. WC: 579 Tag: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 28, 2017 13:26:03 GMT -7
Stitch had finished with the cash register for the night and he was about to put the money in the safe upstairs. That was before a man came stumbling in with the stench of booze not far behind him. The man held the bottle up shattered as if it were a weapon while he demanded the money. Stitch without batting an eye began to spew words carefully. " Oh please sir don't do this. My family needs the money" The teen said in a shaky tone as the man swung the glass cutting the Stitch's hand across the palm. The man grabbed the money and from the counter and ran. Stitch was left with a bleeding hand and confusion. First he looked around in shock startled by the fact that the poverty had driven people to such grave measures. Then the teen grabbed a scarf from a shelf to use as a bandage for the wound. It hurt but all Stitch could think of was the money. Sure the Mitten's house were business owners and to some that meant a easier life but it couldn't be more far from the truth. Stitch's family scraped by like everyone else. Yarnette was the first person down the steps asking what happened. Stitch managed to muster some form of an answer before he was running out the door. " Robber! Cut me! Gotta go!" he hollered before the cold breeze brushed over his skin. Stitch had a simple sweater to keep warm in these steadily chillier months. His dark brown eyes looked around frantically for the thief. Someone in a hoodie caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and it was the closest he had to a witness. " Hey you!" Stitch yelled as he approached the figure slowing down from his sprint, taking quick breaths as he tried to calm down. " Did you see a drunk man run by with money? My family needs that money?" He asked frantically ignoring the pain in his hand. Not realizing who this person was. Tag: Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 28, 2017 19:26:31 GMT -7
Den heard commotion coming from inside the store the closer he walked. He was nearly towards the door when Stitch ran out with a bloody hand. Den didn't wait for Stitch to say anymore and instead ran as quickly as he could towards the man who'd stumbled out of the shop. Den was fast and he was able to catch up to the drunk man within seconds. Tackling him, they went down to the ground. The stench of alcohol reeked from the man. It was too easy to take the money from him, "Get a job, man. Do something for the community instead of stealing from others who have it just as bad as you. There's a shelter and soup kitchen, clean yourself up and stop drinking." Den looked at the man on the ground, he had refused to stand after being pushed down. Den shook his head and walked back to the thrift store. "Hey," he said with a tight smile. He held out the money he'd gotten back from the thief. "Here." Den couldn't look at Stitch in the eyes, instead he looked at everything but him. It was nice to help him out, to see him, but it hurt all the same. The same pain that cut inside him the night he found out that his father had killed Stitch's brother was still raw inside him even though it had been years. Word Count: 236 TAG: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 28, 2017 20:44:31 GMT -7
Things felt like they went by quickly. First he managed to find someone but that person ran off in pursuit of the bandit. Stitch was left alone with his thoughts as he rubbed the scarf covering his hand. The blood had seeped through staining the fabric a reddish color. Stitch watched the man retrieve the money for him. Even when people showed how cruel they could be a random act of kindness felt like a blessing. Stitch smiled happily taking the money without even looking the stranger in the eyes. As of Stitch curtesy he opened his arms to embrace the man before all to familiar voice hit him. Denim's voice gave Stitch a brief memory both joyful and saddened. The action of hugging had already commenced no matter how much Stitch's body tensed up at this knowledge. His joins were robotic and uneasy as they fell back to his sides. He took a step back from Denim unsure of what to say now after hugging what he thought was a savior that turned out to be his ex best friend. " D-Denim.. how unfortunate.. of events for us to meet.." Every word was hard like a heavy pound ball was strapped to his jaw that clenched. A part of Stitch remembered that he could just as easily turn away from him. The thrift shop was right there. Stitch had the full option to leave without a word like when Denim walked out when Stitch needed him most. However Stitch didn't move. Instead he was reminded of something he heard his father going on about early today. " How.. how is your mother?" His words were soft and sincere without any lack of sincerity. " I.. My dad mentioned she wasn't feeling well?" Stitchs hand naturally reached out as if offering a comforting hand. Normally this would be no problem but this time it was Denim. The fact it was someone who caused him such pain made Stitch's nature to comfort feel off. Stitch pulled back his hand as if the gesture didn't happen. Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 29, 2017 12:11:48 GMT -7
When Stitch stepped forward to give him a hug, Den stepped back. This was something that he did often, he remembered. Den had thought it odd when they first met and Stitch had hugged him. His family didn't do that. His mother did, but not his father. No one else did that with him. A hug was personal and it showed love, that's all Den had ever attributed it to because when his mother hugged him, it meant she loved him. And every time Stitch hugged him, Den hugged him back because Den loved him. But today, now, he stepped backwards. Stitch stopped when he saw who he was talking to. He, too, took a step back. The tension between them was so tangible he could touch it. When Stitch mentioned his mother, he chanced a glance at his eyes before quickly looking away. Brown. Brown eyes. He remembered that. "She's been sick a few days, but she's getting better," he said all devoid of emotion. The truth was, his mother wasn't getting any better. She was getting worse. Stitch had asked about the only other person he truly cared about and it sent a wrench into his heart. He couldn't do this. "Stitch, I---" Den started but then his words stopped mid air as he caught the rest of it inside his throat. It was far too late for apologies or explanations. Four years too late. Too late for Den. Too late for them. He knew when he made the decision to stop talking to Stitch that there was no going back. "It's getting late, I should go and let you close up the store." WC: 280 TAG: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 29, 2017 12:52:42 GMT -7
Things felt strange. They always felt strange whenever Denim was around. Their was a time that Stitch would run out of bed to greet his friends Jean and Denim but now their was only one person. Could things ever go back to the way they once where? Did either of them truest want things to go back to normal. Is this.. what normal is now? Feeling so much tension in the air one might as well cut it would a knife. Their eyes met briefly. "Pretty Eyes" Stitch said without thinking. He did this sometimes so it wasn't uncommon. A random compliment. The urge to speak to avoid the silence that felt humid whenever Denim was around. Sometimes like now.. the random urge to speak and hear himself talk was a burden. However Stitch did listen intently to Denim's response. Why must the mayors son be the worst of lyers. "You know the key to social etiquette and diplomacy is knowing others emotions. Denim if she was truly getting better you would have a hint of joy" He frowned shaking his head a little. Stitch paused before speaking again. He listened rather then talking this time. All that Denim said was logical and a completely rational decision. On the other hand this was Stitch which meant it wouldn't be that easy. "That is all logical. However I don't agree" he paused to suck in his lower lip, it had began to chap from the cold. "I would like to see your mother. She was always such a nice women and if you won't invite me formerly then I must insist." He said confidently without a hint of backing down. Stitch truly did want to see the women as his memory of her was fond. Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 29, 2017 17:09:30 GMT -7
His eyes widened when Stitch said 'pretty eyes'. It was was one of the things Stitch did. One of his many quirks that Den liked so much. So open, so impulsive. All the things that Den wasn't. Stitch filled the empty places in Den's heart, or he would if Den would only let him. If he knew then what he knew now, maybe he would have made different choices. He wanted to tell him that there were things he regretted, but he couldn't turn back time and he had no idea how to turn away from the path he'd set on. Many people see gray areas, but for Den, there were more black and white. It was difficult for him to change his mind once he'd made it up. He was rigid and inflexible, like his father. He didn't bend, instead he plowed through problems hoping that if he punched enough, he'd get to the end of it. Den raised a brow when Stitch deviated from what Den wanted. This should be easy, just help him and leave. But Stitch didn't make it easy on him. Sighing, Den shook his head. "No, Stitch. I'll tell her you said hi, but I can't do this, alright?" Den pulled up the hood that had fallen during his clash with the drunk man. He had to stay the course, he'd made it, now he had to commit to it. WC: 237 TAG: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 30, 2017 5:16:37 GMT -7
Stitch might as well have been slapped in the face. Usually whenever he suggested something normally people went along with it. Sure it took some sweet talking to get others to come to their senses but eventually people said yes. After all these years.. after Thimble died why must Denim continue to hurt him so? Maybe Den had no idea the feelings he felt when one of his best friends disappeared from his life. "O-Okay..Good night then" He said softly without as much excitement as he usually did. Stitch began to turn around his head swirling with memories mixed with thoughts and it all was beginning to bubble. "Did I hurt you?" he asked softly as he looked up trying to gain eye contact with Den no matter if he hid behind a hood. Stitch's arms wrapped around himself due to the cold and the sudden feeling of vulnerability. By being such a open person it was rare that Stitch felt the need to be guarded. "Is that why we don't talk? I have always wondered how a friend could just vanish.. s-should I have told someone.." He paused at the weight of his next words. Perhaps he shouldn't say what he felt but now it was rising like vomit. "Would we still be friends if I had told someone about what your Dad was doing? Is it my fault?" Their was a feeling of regret. The words came out so raw and fast it hurt. Stitch always let his feelings being known but this felt different. Years had past with little to no interaction between and now the words were finally out past Stitch's quivering lip. The cold chilling air made it nearly impossible not to quiver. More importantly Stitch felt unsure. Usually he walked around with an air of confidence and reassurance in his own skills at conversation but this was unknown territory. Perhaps it would have been better to have simply went back inside in the the first place.. Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 30, 2017 19:12:05 GMT -7
Den sighed with relief when Stitch agreed to just go inside. They'd been doing this dance for four years now and Den wasn't going to stop. He knew what he had to do, he had to stay away from Stitch. Everything about him, about his life, was dirty and wrong and bad. His father was right about everything. Den was useless, weak, an embarrassment. Den nodded to himself and was about to turn when Stitch spoke again. It made him pause, made him hurt so much that for a few seconds, he couldn't breathe. Den looked away until the hood covered the entirety of his face. "No, Stitch. You didn't hurt me." I hurt you. And I'll keep hurting you."We were kids," Den said. He wished that someone had stopped his father. He wished that his mother was strong enough, but every time she tried, he'd hit her too. And he couldn't stand that. He'd get back in his father's way, in between him and his mom. He'd rather take the beatings than watch her bleed for him. No matter how much Den wanted the pain to stop, it never did. Maybe some part of him blamed other people for not seeing, or for seeing and doing nothing. But deep down, he knew he deserved the beatings. "It's no one's fault but mine," he sniffed beneath the hood. WC: 230 TAG: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 30, 2017 20:24:27 GMT -7
Stitch felt like shit for what he had done. He had no business bringing back those painful memories. Painful for the both of them surely but for different reasons. Those wounds hurt Denim physically but they also hurt Stitch. Sometimes the adolescent wondered if perhaps he should have said something.. anything. "You.." His lips pressed firmly into a close tightly sealed for once. The doors to Stitch's voice had managed to silence and not utter words that would further hurt them both. A frown crept over his face. Denim's words cut a nerve inside Stitch. He was like this often. Passionate and impulsive with his actions. Occasionally it was a blessing, often times it was a curse. "Exactly. We were merely defenseless children" Stitch let out a sigh that showed his breath. Dark brown eyes watched as his exhale left him blowing away in the wind into the night. His hand reached for Denim's arm. Initially his hand aimed for the others hand but he knew even Denim wouldn't allow that kind of closeness. Their was always this wall separating them. Perhaps it was reality.. or Denim's desire to avoid Stitch. Stitch paused momentarily as his fingers gripped the mayors son's arm tightly refusing to release. "It's not your fault!" Stitch's voice raised with each word finding a anger that had been boiling over the years. Perhaps it was Stitch's anger that Denim had abandoned him or at Denim's father or both. "Don't let your father ruin your life. Even if you cut me out of it. I still care about you even if I I'm mad at you!" He was shouting by this point now already having let go of Denim. A stray tear found its way down his cheek to drip off his chin. Their it was again.. the sense of vulnerability. This was what it looked like when his impulses backfired. Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 31, 2017 11:50:24 GMT -7
Den was glad he was wearing a jacket because if Stitch had touched him, if he felt the way his hand felt on his bare skin, he wouldn't be able to take it. The thick cloth offered him protection. It was like his suit of armor. He needed that right now, he needed that always. Because at this moment, he wanted to feel Stitch's hand. He relished the pressure on his arm, but only for a moment and then he pulled away. The cold winter air separated them once more, Den took a step backwards, stretching the distance between them. "Good," Den said, his voice shaking. "You should be mad. You should be pissed. You should never want to talk to me again! Because I left you when you needed me the most. I was a shitty friend! I should have been there, but I wasn't! And I have no excuse for it because the truth is, I chose not to be there for you." Den's warm breath was visible in the cold air, his face turning pink from not just the cold, but from anger. Not towards Stitch, never towards him. But at himself. Because of the choice he made and the choice he continued to make everyday. WC: 210 TAG: Stitch Mitten
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Oct 31, 2017 13:09:05 GMT -7
Stitch felt very angry with everything that had happen. Their was a lot of unanswered questions for the teen. Why did Denim just up and avoid him? Was their friendship nothing? Did any of it mean anything to Denim. His hand now fell to his side once Denim moved from his grasp. The cold air felt freezing on his finger tips but Sitch didn't tuck them into his pocket. Stitch simply balled them into a fist as he looked at Denim. " I am choosing to be here for you. Since you chose to not be there for me I have made my choice" He paused to catch his breath in the combination of smog ridden air and the cold made it hard to breath. Especially in such impassioned moments like this. " Denim why won't you let me back into your life?" He asked softly now less angry then before as he wiped away another stray tear. Stitch chuckled a little but it felt sad. " I should be the one not willing to forgive you.." Stitch voice began to raise again as he felt the words leave him before he could steal them. " But I forgive you.. It still hurts to think about it.." He sighed. For what felt like an eternity Stitch was silent as he looked off. Dark brown eyes stared off at something else that wasn't Denim until finally they returned. They were slow to look at the other man and seemed tired from the cold and emotions. " Do you still care about me? Did you ever care? If you say no. Then I wil walk away" Denim R. Wolfe
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
Occupation:
Warehouse Manager in Training
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Loner
Last Online:
Jul 9, 2018 20:24:11 GMT -7
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Post by Denim R. Wolfe on Oct 31, 2017 23:52:50 GMT -7
The dance between them pulled and pushed, its tempo building up. He felt the music, like in the days when his mother used to play music in the old record player when he was young. She taught him how to dance, letting him step on her feet and carrying him to the rhythm of the music. He didn't feel that way now. He didn't feel like he was being swept away in the music. He felt as if an invisible force was pulling and pushing him, telling him where to go, and if he didn't go a certain way, it would pull his limbs from his body. The problem was, Den had no idea what to do. He had chosen his path, he had done this. And there really was no going back. No matter what. "You're naive," Den said sadly. He shook his head and shrugged, "It doesn't matter if you forgive me." I don't forgive me."None of it matters, Stitch. Don't you see?" He felt his body become heavy with fog and wind and cold. He was like a block of ice and no amount of chipping was going to get through to his center. Den shook his head slowly, "I don't care." It was the first time he'd actually truly lied to him. Den shrugged, "I'm sorry. I don't." Den turned quickly before the tears pooled up in his eyes and a tear drop fell. He wiped the tear from his cheek walked away as quickly as he could. He pulled into himself, trying to ward off the cold but he couldn't. Because it wasn't just cold outside, it was cold inside his heart. Den walked to the corner of the street and slowed. Then, because he simply couldn't help himself, he looked back at where Stitch had been standing just to see him one last time. WC: 312 TAG: Stitch MittenNOTES: SO MUCH SAD ANGRY DRAMA
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District 8
Bisexual
16 Years Old
Relationship:
None
Occupation:
Thrift Shop Employee
HG Status:
Not Signed Up
Wallflower
Last Online:
Apr 19, 2018 13:46:05 GMT -7
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Post by Stitch Mitten on Nov 1, 2017 8:15:09 GMT -7
Stitch felt a mix of feelings. The cold air didn't help as it tickled his red cheeks further chilling his face. Tears made rivers down the teens cheeks as his hands shook ever so slightly at his sides. Denim's words hurt a lot. He had asked for the truth and now it seemed like he got it.. or see he thought. All of the facts told Stitch that Denim didn't care but another part of him. Maybe it was Stitch trying to enter denial at the facts shown said no. How could someone he had been close with just discard him? Certainly this couldn't be true. "No" The word slipped out past those quivering lips. They were carried off almost silently by the wind into the cold winters night. Stitch kept at the same spot where the words had hit him like a gun. The tears dampened his cheeks as shivered in the cold.. and to face the sadness. It felt like his body was in shock as he watched Denim walk away before looking back at him. Their eyes met for a moment and then they were gone. In what felt like a eternity of time Stitch finally turned around. He returned to the thrift shop to help close up Denim R. Wolfe
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