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Gif: http://imgur.com/6TfdGQ6.gif
Alias: Toothless
Shipper + App: http://miamilights.jcink.net/index.php?act=ST&f=15&t=688
Tracker: http://miamilights.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=712
Age: 27
Nickname: Sen
Short description, quote, or lyrics: Nothing is harder Than to wake up all alone Realize it's not okay It's the end of all you know Time keeps passing by But it seems I'm frozen still Scars are left behind But some too deep to feel And some say this can't be real And I've lost my power to feel tonight We're all just victims of a crime When all's gone and can't be regained We can't seem to shelter the pain inside We're all just victims of a crime
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Joined: 5-July 16
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Local Time: Jul 15 2018, 02:06 PM
264 posts (0.4 per day)
( 3.92% of total forum posts )
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Sentia Sorex

Sanguine

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Mar 15 2018, 10:50 AM
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</style><div align="center"><div class="stemp_sp"><img src="http://68.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbhgjdVrEH1r2gmflo1_500.gif"></div><div class="stemp_spbk"><div class="slyric_box2">We are lost and found</div><div class="slyric_box1">So let's go turn the beat around</div><div class="stemp_sptxt">
<p>Sen took a deep breath, her headphones in as she worked. She’d basically been living at the shop the past week and a half to work on the build in front of her. It wasn’t for profit or anything… it was for a friend, specifically, Miranda. It was more of a surprise – because what sort of friend doesn’t get their friend a high speed sports vehicle rigged to be perfect for street racing for being there when they almost died by the hands of a psycho from their past who tortured her to near extinction? Exactly. She’d been cleared to work for a little while, but shockingly enough to her, she hadn’t gone back right away…</p>
<p>It was bad when the shop seemed so tainted with the memories of what happened. She did her best to push through them, but she knew she should be going to see Claire about it… about everything but she also hadn’t been able to find the motivation to do that. She preferred to work from home, working on her Hellcat in the garage or the Demon when she was feeling up to it. She remembered vaguely the first day she’d come back, staring at the spot that still had mild bloodstains from where she’d fallen after Raelle had hit her head before they’d dragged her away…</p>
<p>This place used to be her home, and in a way it still was, but the dynamic had changed.</p>
<p>She glanced at her phone – it was almost time for lunch, so she set down her tools and glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was still here working. <b>“Hey Liz, I’m gonna order a pizza. You want in?”</b> She’d been getting better with the whole remembering-to-eat thing. For a while, she’d go on an empty stomach until someone, mostly one of the boys, asked her if she remembered to eat that day.</p>

</div><div class="stemp_bottom"><div class="stemp_tag">And maybe find a brand new sound</div><div class="stemp_notes">Let's turn it up right now</div></div></div><div class="sviicred"><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=2371">Thanks Vii❣</a></div></div>[/dohtml]
Sep 24 2016, 10:35 PM
[dohtml]<h1>I MISS THOSE QUARTER-MILE THRILLS (NEW YORK CREW + HANDLERS)</h1>[/dohtml]
[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Blake "Queen Bitch" Browning</div>
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[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Miranda Castillo</div>
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[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Rachel Cross</div>
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<div class="polycaps">Andrew Weston (HANDLER)</div>
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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Zeyada' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>[/dohtml]

[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Megan Greenia</div>
</div>
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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Zeyada' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>[/dohtml]


[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polimage"><img src="http://entretenimiento.starmedia.com/imagenes/2013/05/luke-350.jpg" width="355" height="340"></div>
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<div class="polycaps">Evan Monroe (HANDLER)</div>
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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Zeyada' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>[/dohtml]

[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Dominic Jackson</div>
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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Zeyada' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>[/dohtml]

[dohtml]</-code by jack skellington @ cttw-/>
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<div class="polycaps">Finn Johnson</div>
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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Zeyada' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>[/dohtml]
Sep 4 2016, 10:54 PM
[dohtml]<center>Posts will be marked if they have TWs in them.</center>[/dohtml]
[dohtml]<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display:400,400italic' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>

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<div class="lividity">

<img src="https://67.media.tumblr.com/1737226b7ae55af172bfaa9d319d34b8/tumblr_inline_o94q98yvOd1uoktkc_500.gif">
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="top">what doesn't kill me makes me wish i was dead</div><div class="body">
<p><b>Warning:</b> Mentions of abuse and sexual assault.</b></p>
<p>She was curled up almost into a ball, muttering “no… stay back” over and over again in her sleep, her arms curled protectively in front of her chest, legs occasionally kicking out in self-defense as her protests grew louder, but she couldn’t wake up… oh, how she wished she could.</p>
<i>She felt like she couldn’t breathe, suffocated, back in that room with that hauntingly familiar face peering eyes. No, this wasn’t happening. This <b>wasn’t happening</b>, it was just a dream… she knew these thoughts in her head but they didn’t translate over the fear, the pain, the memories burning just as vividly as they had that first night… her hands were pinned above her head, tugging at them, trying to fight it as tears fell from her eyes, just a small girl, a small girl who’d seen plenty… but a small girl none the less.</i></p>
<p>She jolted awake, her breathing heavy and staggered, eyes widened with tears looming in them, hands curled into fists, still stuck in the between gates of her reality and her hell… it took a minute to process the fact that she was alone, in the backseat of her Hellcat, that familiar surroundings helping her calm down, if only a little. Her hands were shaking as she let her eyes close, gulping. <i>It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.</i> Over and over again in her head, her chest burning, her heart feeling like it was on fire.</p>
<p>Her nails dug into her palms as hard as they could in one hand while the other ran through her hair before she finally checked her phone. <i>1:34AM.</i> She’d only caught an hour of sleep at most, leaning her head back against the window, back against the door as she brought her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around them as she rested her forehead on her knees. It would be too risky to go out for a drive, especially the speed she was looking to go… she drew in another sharp deep breath. <b>“It’s not real… it’s… it’s <i>not real</i>.”</b> She had started to say it out loud to herself, trying to do anything to convince herself of that fact.</p>
<p>But it felt real, it was as vivid as the memories, the memories she was forced to relive when her PTSD was triggered or when it was dug up by some sleaze cop or enemy crew who managed to get their hands on her history… no, it wasn’t real... he was behind bars… she looked at her phone, briefly considering calling someone… but who to call? Alastar? Nate? They were probably both sleeping or working. Blake? Miranda? She’d disappeared without a word.</p>
<p>She simply scoffed at herself again, tossing her phone lightly towards the other side of the car, running a hand through her hair again, brushing it back behind her ears. <b>“Come on, get it together.”</b> Her voice cracked, trying to reign the tears in until they were manageable and failing… miserably...</p>
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<a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a></center>

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Jul 13 2016, 09:37 PM
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<p>I don't think words can properly describe the thoughts that reach my head when I come out here. There are clinical terms, of course, terms that would probably make Claire frown at me if she ever heard them across my lips... but I don't know. I can feel my entire life falling apart in front of me and yet everyone else continues on as normal. I <i>ran</i> because I was too comfortable, I wasn't being haunted... how messed up is that, right?</p>
<p>I'm terrified it'll happen again. The last time I felt safe someplace, and felt like I had a family who'd always look out for me? My brother put a bullet in his skull... that's what happened.</p>
<p>I come out here to think a lot, thoughts that would also have Claire frowning, sitting on the hood of my Hellcat with a view of the ocean... just thinking... the hardest part? I never know if I've said goodbye to the last time... and I know they're cops, and I don't have the best history with cops... but Alastar and Nate and everyone else, Blake and Miranda... they all deserve better than that.</p>
<p>Then again, I've been careful to make sure they never see this side of me. I'm sarcastic and snappy, and I never back down but I don't know if I can keep it up.</p>
<p>I can almost hear those church bells ringing, or whatever the hell happens to me next. Probably just some mechanic that goes missing, no follow up. Probably assuming that I ran away from my responsibility again, my family, because that's what I'm so spectacular at doing.</p>
<p>Today was his first time applying for parole... he's states, an entire country, away... and yet I'm still terrified to look over my shoulder. I don't know why... others have had it worse, I know that... I shouldn't let it haunt me because that's letting him win after all these years...</p>
<p>It was denied... which means in two years, I'll have that fear creeping back into my heart. The cops who worked the case promised to let me know how each of them turned out... funny I have so many cops looking out for me with my reputation... not that many of them know just who I am... and those who do don't even know what I'm really like... they know what the Firework is like, not the fuse that is constantly lighting it, blowing it up.</p>
<p>I would have taken a thousand more hits from dad and near death if it had meant avoiding my fate... but instead she took a punishment she didn't deserve and for reasons I still don't understand.</p>
<p style="text-align:right;margin-right:100px;margin-bottom:-3px;">I'm sorry, mom... it's all my fault</p>

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Jul 5 2016, 11:18 PM
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<div class="bc_app"><div class="bc_app2" style="background-color: #53999A">
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Sentia Adriana Saige Sorex
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<h1>Basics</h1>

<h2>Name</h2> <h3>Sentia Adriana Saige Sorex</h3>
<h2>Age</h2> <h3>Twenty-Seven</h3>
<h2>Member Group</h2> <h3>Sanguine</h3>
<h2>Birthday</h2> <h3>June 8th</h3><p>
<h2>Birthplace</h2> <h3>Detroit, MI</h3><p>
<h2>Secret</h2> <h3>I was raped by my foster father when I was 12.</h3>

<h1>Career</h1>
<h2>Occupation</h2> <h3>Mechanic</h3>
<h2>Workplace</h2> <h3>"The Garage"</h3>
<h2>Education</h2> <h3>N/A (High School Dropout/Runaway)</h3>

<h1>Relationships</h1>
<h2>Sexual Orientation</h2> <h3>Heterosexual</h3>
<h2>Relationship Status</h2> <h3>Dating</h3>
<h2>Current Partner</h2> <h3>Nathaniel Halsted</h3>

<h1>Player</h1>
<h2>Alias</h2> <h3>Toothless</h3>
<h2>Timezone</h2> <h3>EST</h3>
<h2>Contact</h2> <h3>AIM @Namarea.tooth</h3>
<h2>Pref. Pronouns</h2> <h3>She/Her</h3>

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<p><b>TW: Mentions of rape, abuse, and suicide.</b></p>
<p>Commitment has never been my thing, and while I could blame several different people for it, or loss, or pain, or abuse, I'm not going to because it's who I am. Sure, maybe those things shaped me... but I am who I am now because it's too damn late to change that fact.</p>
<p>What you need to know? I was born named Sentia to a wealthy CEO and a trophy wife, and my daddy wasn't very nice. You see, he loved the liquor and he took out his anger on us when he'd had too much of the aforementioned liquor... my mom tried her best to shield my brother and myself, but failed... I heard the yelling and the crying and the screams... and later? Well, later I was victim to it just as she was... I tried to stop him from hurting her and he reacted violently... dragged my brother into it too, which I will never forgive myself for.</p>
<p>I became used to it, and it ingrained itself in my nature. It wasn't until I was eleven, almost twelve that everything changed for me, a complete game changer... my dad was going to kill me. He had a knife... what I didn't know was that my mom owned a gun... she fired off a shot at the last second, shooting him in the head right before he was going to stab me... she was arrested after she called the cops on herself and I was separated from my brother. We were put into the foster care system and I bounced from home to home, never to see or hear from him again. It was really rough without him, and the constant changing and uncertainty probably didn't help... especially with what happened next.</p>
<p>It hit me harder than I thought... my older brother was one of the few I could relate to after everything had happened, the one person I could truly talk to, especially with mom locked up and dad dead... I coped by withdrawing myself. I got my hands on a laptop at one of my foster families and was permitted to keep it. I didn't do much with it, just kind of sat there...</p>
<p>Then I got placed into another family... it seemed nice at first but I quickly learned that my dad wasn't the biggest predator out there... I don't talk about what happened, ever, and all you needed to know what it ended with my in a corner refusing to let anyone step within a few feet of me, and my foster father being arrested and legally declared a pedophile... it's a part of my life that haunts me, even now.</p>
<p>Things did get better for a time. I was forced to see a psychologist and I was diagnosed with PTSD, antisocial personality disorder, and severe general anxiety... the diagnoses just made me more anxious, surprise, surprise. I put up walls, barriers, and refused to let others in. I fought people back with a barbed tongue and sarcasm up the walls... and then the psychologist suggested a change of scenery. It was a long deal worked out, but I ended up in New York, far from the reminders of home with a trust fund I could start to pull out of when I was 18... money of my parents split between my brother and I into separate funds.</p>
<p>I got placed in the Underwood household and I loved it there. I learned how to fix up cars from my foster brother and foster father, and my foster father worked as a technical analyst for the FBI, so he taught me my way around a computer and how to hack... and then they adopted me. Me, at fourteen years old... the papers officially went through the day before my fifteenth birthday.</p>
<p>You should probably know one thing about me: things always go wrong when I'm around. I'm the perfect example of a person who got spit out by the system with no help whatsoever.</p>
<p>Confused? I got adopted, I should be happy! I was for that one day... and then the next day, my birthday, no word, no warning... <i>BANG</i>. My foster brother dead in his room with a bullet through his chin... everyone was blindsided - he didn't even leave a note.</p>
<p>It was too much for me, especially with everything else... I stole the Charger I'd been working on with my "dad" and took off, with my laptop and my charger to my name. I somehow ended up in the City, New York City, and the street racing circuit.</p>
<p>More importantly, I was good... and a crew noticed the skills I carried. The leader's name was Blake Browning, but I called him Queen Bitch. I joined them when I was 16, and I left them when I was 24.</p>
<p>I moved down to Miami where I quickly made a name for myself - my name was already sort of out there, at least my nickname was. They called me Fireworks because you did not wanna fuck with me. I had no formal training, unless you count wheels-and-hacking-skills-for-hire as formal training, so I used some money from my trust fund to open up a Garage. I suck with naming places... so it was just called the Garage. After a race, I quickly fell in with a crew called the Ace of Spades - a cop ran it. Think about that, the irony! I call him Leprechaun because he's Irish.</p>
<p>I've been hiding here ever since, praying that nothing from my past comes to bite my in the ass like it always seems to.</p>

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<p>Sentia is a very... complex person. She has a bad habit of running away from her problems and this running away took her from New York where she was happy with a crew who was like family and an amazing boyfriend to Miami because she was terrified of opening up her past for them all to see. Sen bounced around from home to home and made her life with her parents look like a dream compared to everything else she went through, and she likes to hide behind an incredibly sarcastic coping mechanism. When it comes to emotions, Sen is awful - she doesn't particularly like talking about her feelings and she could be considered emotionally underdeveloped as a way she found to help her cope, resulting in a very confusing game of cat and mouse.</p>
<p><b>Friends</b> Sen puts up walls and guards herself with sarcasm in order to protect herself... anyone who can shoot it right back? Well, that's essentially an instant friendship.</p>
<p><b>Enemies</b> Sen doesn't really have all too many enemies, people who are less-than-kind to her are the only way to get that, and lord help you if you do because she's quite the fiery character and she will put them in their place.</p>
<p><b>Racing Circuit</b> She loves a good street race, and she still races hard. She currently is driving a tricked-out jet black 2014 Dodge Charger Hellcat with some modifications but has three more that she's won from other racers when she was in New York.</p>
<p><b>Lovers</b> This category is the definition of complicated... I don't even know how to explain it properly but it's thoroughly closed.</p>
<p><b>Other</b> Right now she's seeing a psychologist named Claire Falco, trying to work out her issues.</p>
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