Manipulation Runs In The Family (Blistered, Rene and K-Town)

BlisteredBlood

Posting order goes as follows.

1. Mayor of K-Town
2. Renesmee Cullen
3. BlisteredBlood

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Mayor of K-Town

It's crappy but it's a start, I'm like so burnt of typing. Ha. Love you two. Hopefully my next post will be a little better.

Forgive my lips for they find joy in the most unusual place.
- A Good Year

Demi stood facing her mirror, painting on the face than most knew and loved… or hated
which ever you prefer. She supposed it was what side of the spectrum you were on, had
she used you yet or where you still patiently waiting for her abuse. She smeared dark red
lipstick on her lips and batted her heavily framed eyelashes at herself liking what she saw.
She had always found herself attractive, more or less then others did. Narcissistic might
be a little exaggerated but confident was an understatement. She shifted her tight skirt
and moved towards her door. She was in dire need of her younger sister and wasn’t
exactly sure as to where she might be.

Demi was antisocial in the psychological definition, as in she
made friends quiet easily but she had little to no regard concerning their feelings. Her life
revolved around her and what she wanted. It matter little to her what she had to do or
who she had to hurt to have her way. Friends didn’t exist in her realm; they were more like
objects, or tools in which she could propel herself forward with their exhaustion to please
her. And truth be told, most did want to please her, at least at first, but that was long
enough for Demi to have her way with them.

It was easy to see why someone might fall for her. She had a talent,
the way some children might pick up a basketball and be able to fling the ball into a hoop
from half court. Demi was… beautiful. Incredibly beautiful actually, but in a classic, mystery
movie sort of way, not the porno style girls that were normally deemed hot. On top of that
when you first met Demi it was like… electric. She could make a person feel like they were
the only person left in existence. The way her eyes focused on you and how she could
smile at you and make the rest of the room sort of disappear.

Superficially Demi seemed like the type of girl who didn’t have much in the attic, but if
anyone had really known her, the way some people did, she was really quite the theatrical
genius. But all of it was shallow. Intelligent or not, she could seem sort of drone like,
unable to go very deep into the person she was. It might have been that she didn’t like the
person she was, or possibly… she wasn’t much of a person at all.

Renesmee Cullen

Sara sighed as she sat on her bed, brushing her hair. She was obsessed with making sure it was perfectly free of tangles. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred..." Sara smiled brightly before setting the brush to the side. She never thought she was beautiful enough, not like her sister. Everyone seemed to love her sister so much, at times Sara swore it made her jealous, but never for long. She was forgiving and passionate. She could never be upset for long.

The girl sighed as she moved from her bed to her closet, looking through her clothes before finding a pink dress that just stopped a little bit above her knees. She stripped of the pajamas she had been in. She had been cleaning earlier, so she hadn't put on proper clothes. She let out a content sigh as the fabric slid over her small frame. She certainly couldn't pull off her sister's beauty, but she tried her best to be cute. She preferred being cute anyways. Who needed to be beautiful?

She put a few clips in her hair before seeming content with the end result. She never wore makeup, she didn't think she needed it. Besides, she heard the more you wore makeup the more likely you were to get wrinkles at a young age. That would be devastating! Sara fixed up her bed a little before opening her window to let in some fresh air.

Her steps were light as she moved to leave her bedroom, she was hungry and figured she might as well make some food for the rest of her family. What would they want? She had no idea. Sometimes she thought they were picky, sometimes not. "Hey, what do you guys want to eat?" she called out as she left the bedroom, heading downstairs now to make the food. Hopefully there wouldn't be any trouble figuring out what they all wanted.

(It's weak but I finally got it up ;-; I'm so sorry I didn't do it sooner)

BlisteredBlood

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Vincent sat on the couch watching a movie from the '90s when he heard Sara mosey over to the kitchen and called out. At first, he really didn't pay much attention to her voice, but when it came to cooking, he believed that she was a bona-fide chef.

He had been here with these two since he was about 18, ever since his father decided to remarry. It wasn't exactly the best thing to do in that time, considering that he was still in the throws of a divorce settlement with his mother, but Vincent figured what more could a new mother do now than in recent memory?

But fast forward today. It was a sort of new way of thinking, a new way of living and so on. These three now had a house that was sitting on an acre of land in one of the more privatized sectors of the city they lived in after his father and Demi and Sara's mother helped pitch in for it. Since then, the three were responsible with upkeep, food, gas, utilities and all accessories geared either towards the house or for themselves. A majority of Vincent's check went into this house since he worked at one of the local nightclubs in town, but he didn't mind. So long as it was for the betterment of their house then who was he to complain? In truth, he didn't need much and often got the short end of the stick, but strangely, it was Demi who would make up for it.

Speaking of Vincent, he was in no ways willowy. He was a real mountain of a man, standing about six feet six and had a very well put together three-hundred-twenty pound frame, possibly forged from the hardest of steel. His brown hair was clipped short, almost giving him the appearance of a war-forged drill instructor when he was actually a bit more of a gentle giant around his stepsisters.

Glancing up and over his shoulder, Vincent lifted a hand up and spoke, "Nah, it doesn't matter to me. Make whatever ya want." He said, waving that same hand in a nonchalant manner before returning his attention back to the television and resting his hand on his face.

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