✰ i'm not from around here ✰ (p, outer!)

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    your muse is a human who lives in a busy city on their own. their life is pretty normal until one cool spring evening when everything changed. they were preparing to hit the hay that night when they heard a crash in a nearby park. your muse thinks nothing of it, most likely another accident. after turning off all the lights and locking doors, your muse enters their bedroom and finishes getting prepared to sleep for the night. suddenly, they hear something crash in their kitchen, like a plate has fallen. your muse goes to investigate, armed in case of emergencies, to find my muse, an alien, in their kitchen. (optional: your muse goes to college part time.)


    forms;;

    Code
    1. [align=right][img]url here[/img]
    2. [size=24][b][color=#FFFFFF][i]FULL NAME HERE[/i][/color][/b][/size][/align]
    3. [b][color=#FFFFFF]NAME:[/color][/b]
    4. [b][color=#FFFFFF]AGE:[/color][/b]
    5. [b][color=#FFFFFF]GENDER:[/color][/b]
    6. [color=#FFFFFF][b]APPEARANCE:[/b] (short description)
    7. [b][color=#FFFFFF]PERSONALITY:[/b] (short description)
    8. [b][color=#FFFFFF]HISTORY:[/b] (short description)
    9. [b][color=#FFFFFF]OTHER:[/b]


    my form.

    // Finished! Let me know if anything should be changed!



    Greyson Fields


    NAME: Greyson Fields
    AGE: 21
    GENDER: Male
    [color=#FFFFFF]APPEARANCE: Greyson is a tall, long haired college student. His natural hair is actually a bright red/orange, but he religiously dyes it black. He is about 6ft tall, but he is also skinny, making him very lanky. His eyes are grey. Sometimes, especially at night, he wears large, thick lensed glasses, but usually wears contacts throughout the day.
    [color=#FFFFFF]PERSONALITY: Greyson is pretty laid back. He likes to go with the flow, and isn't easily bothered. He is quite sociable, and has a good amount of friends, but would pick being alone over hanging out for long periods of time anyday.
    [color=#FFFFFF]HISTORY: Greyson has had a pretty normal life so far. He began playing the piano and the guitar at a relatively young age. He wishes to be a music teacher in the future, and is majoring in Music Education, but also has a part-time job at a convenience store.
    [color=#FFFFFF]OTHER: -

    The post was edited 2 times, last by outer! ().

    // I don't mind starting :3
    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative

    As Greyson lay in his small, twin-sized bed, he could hear the sounds of the city; loud, honking cars, active pedestrians yelling at each other excitedly. Even though he has dwelled in this city his entire life, he always knew he wasn't made for the strong lights coming from the neon signs that plagued the city's downtown. He wanted to see the starts twinkling in sky; stars that had become hidden in the midst of the strong lights that numerated from every building and skyscraper. But he never complained. This was the place he would need to be if he wanted to keep playing music in little, indie cafes. Greyson stopped himself from thinking these thoughts, yet he become lost in his own pretentiousness.


    I should get up, He thought, finally ending his laziness and rolling out of his bed. He searched through his pajamas, which were haphazardly stuffed in a drawer. He settled for his boxers and a black tank top, noticing it becoming steadily hotter as the night progresses. He turned on his fan. As he did this, he heard a loud crash in the distance. He whipped his head towards his window, quickly crossing to room to take a look. Whatever it was, it sounded large, he considered. [color=#f4b042]Maybe it was a semi-truck. He thought it was odd, considering the smoke from the presumed crash came from the nearby park, which had not even a single road running through it. Greyson's brown furrowed in slight confusion, but as long as his home was safe, he decided that he would just catch the crash on tomorrow's news. He laughed himself back into his bed, bouncing a bit.


    Greyson reached a few inches from his bed to the lamp that still lit, although dimly, his medium-sized bedroom. He had work and school tomorrow. He sighed audibly to no one in particular. He hated days like that. He always passed out right afterwards, not even bothering to do the homework he should catch up on. He shifted his position to lay on his back, turning his gaze to the ceiling fan that created a whizzing sound in the background. He, of course, did not have air conditioning, and it, of course, was turning out to be a very, very hot night. His eyes slowly began to close as his thoughts became muffled.


    It seemed like only a few seconds later, Greyson heard a sound coming from downstairs. His mind immediately led to a home invasion, but the rational side considered that something might've just fell. He sat up in his bed, listening to anymore clues as to where, or what, the sound came from.


    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;height:3000px]Destiel silently cursed himself as he unbuckled himself from his seat. He had fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed his ship. He was glad he had the camouflage setting on, or he would have been in big trouble. He made his way to the back of the ship, stifling a yawn. He flipped a switch on the device around his wrist and opened the side door. He made sure no one could see him before stepping out in the night air.

    He felt every odd in the planet's atmosphere. It was very unlike his home, the pressure being a lot of on his body than he was used to, and very hot. He was glad he had his suit on, which had an automatic equilibrium machine in it. He made sure to take this one so his insides wouldn't explode as he explored, or he wouldn't melt or freeze to death. He made his way to the front of the ship, assessing the damage with his eyes. He groaned and threw his head back, the damage being pretty bad. Man, he was gonna be in so much trouble when he got home.


    He might as well minimize his ship and store it for a rainy day until someone could come get him. He pressed some more buttons on his wrist device and the ship shrunk into an extremely small cube, which he then bent over and picked up. He shoved the cube into his pocket and zipped it up so it wouldn't fall out. Knowing him, it probably would if he didn't zip it up. He sighed, looking around at his current location.


    He saw a bunch of humans gathered around the crash site, looking concerned. So, humans meant Earth. Wait, he was on Earth? That was way off the track he was going. His destination was nowhere near Earth. He groaned again, beginning to leave the lush park. He needed to find somewhere to stay, and hopefully something to eat.


    He continued to walk, slipping through the people on the streets. He made sure not to bump into them, as they currently couldn't see him and didn't want any trouble. He spotted a large building, something that was perfect for him to find an empty room in. He assumed it was a human hotel, and quickly headed towards it. After almost getting hit by a car, he made his way to the front doors of the building. He waited until someone walked in, quickly walking in behind him. If he just walked in while no one could see him, they'd get suspicious. Or think he was a ghost.


    He followed that person into an elevator, in which they went up a few floors. Determining this was high enough to find a good room, he randomly went to a door. He put his ear to the door, listening for any movement from within. He heard nothing, which was an 'ok' to him. He again lifted his wrist, pressed a button, and it unlocked the door quietly within a few seconds. He quietly opened the door and stepped in, carefully closing the door behind him. After he was inside, he deactivated his camouflage and relaxed a bit.


    He still made sure to keep quiet, as he wasn't sure if anyone was here. He hoped they were sleeping, and he wouldn't run into any trouble. He decided to just sleep on the couch after sneaking some food from the fridge they had. He tiptoed to the fridge, trying his best to open it quietly. He peeked into the fridge, quietly looking over its contents. He began moving things around, looking for a bit before finding something that looked appetizing. He closed the fridge a little too hard, which caused a glass from the top of the fridge to fall and smash onto the floor. He froze, looking like a terrified cat.

    "Oh shit."

    The post was edited 7 times, last by milkyy. ().

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative

    Greyson shot out of his bed hearing the male voice come from downstairs. He looked around his room for any sort of weapon he could find, and grabbed his phone, just in case he needed to call the police. He settled on unplugging his bedside lamp, removing the lampshade, and holding the shaft like a baseball bat. He hoped that if it came to a scuffle he would be able to knock out the perpetrator before he got hurt himself.


    He crept out of his bedroom, careful not to squeak the older door. He tip-toed down the steps, their creaking out of his control. Greyson hoped he would get the jump on the intruder, but worried the creaking of the stairs and old wooden floors would alert him to his position. His heart beat fast, adrenaline pumping through him. He'd never done anything like this before, since the house he grew up in actually had an alarm system. He couldn't afford one on his salary, however, so to him this seemed almost eventual.


    Greyson looked into his living room cautiously; no sign of any life. The only other option was the kitchen. Putting his back against the wall next tot he entrance to his kitchen, he tried to calm himself before entering. He knew that panicking would just get him killed at the worst. [color=#f4b042]I should've just called the police...

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;height:400px]Destiel stared at the broken glass, knowing he made a mistake. His head jerked up and turned to the entrance, his ears perking up at the sound of movement. He wasn't alone. He knew he shouldn't panic, it could just cause him more trouble. He really just wanted some food, and now he's gotten himself into a problem.

    He quickly began to pick up the shards of broken glass. He was careful to be quiet this time, gently laying them in the trashcan. He made sure every big piece was up before looking around for something to get the little things up. He spotted a broom in the corner, remembering that humans used it for "sweeping". This got small particles like dirt off the floor easily. It was a perfect fit for what he needed.


    He quickly grabbed the broom and began sweeping the glass into a small pile. Wait, why was he doing this? This wasn't his home. He silently cursed his hospitality, it slowly oozing into him at other people's homes. He quickly finished his job, leaving the small pile and returning the broom to its place. Now, he had to figure out what to do from here. He really wanted that food... But he also didn't want to get injured.


    He sighed, knowing he would most likely let his stomach win over his head. He froze suddenly, hearing the movement coming from right outside the kitchen entrance. Oh god, they were here. He cleared his throat, standing straight and putting his hands on his hips. Might as well deal with this properly.

    "Excuse me for the mess, I thought this space was, uh, vacated. I tried my best to clean the broken glass..."

    // sorry, this is a bit shorter than I wanted it to be, but my muse is a bit lower than usual at the moment ^-^
    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative

    Greyson had to muster the courage to bring himself into the kitchen. He was worried mostly about what the intruder could do to him. What if he had a knife? Or even a gun? He shivered at the thought of what could happen to him. But he needed to get this guy out of here somehow, and scaring him away was better than nothing. As he pumped himself up, he was startled by the intruder speaking to him.


    Panicked, he screamed, and waved his blunt object of a lamp at the person. He soon lost his footing, however, and was knocked down, landing hard on his butt on the wooden floor. He scooted far away form the figure, silhouetted in the darkness of his kitchen. [color=#f48042]"Who...who are you!? Why are you in my house!?"

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;height:400px]Destiel watched the entrance, waiting for the other to come in. As he did, he quickly noticed something in his hands. It was a lamp but without the shade. As soon as he spoke, the owner for the apartment screamed and hit him with the lamp before falling on his behind. Startled, Destiel gasped and took a few wary steps back, his back hitting a wall and flipping on the lights.


    The lamp had hit him in the head, and the bulb that was still in it had broken as well. He slid down the wall and onto the floor, his hands moving towards his now bleeding head. He mumbled some curses that weren't in English as he curled his legs close to his body. His head was now pounding, the blood running between his fingers and down his face before dripping onto his suit. Honestly, today was not a good day for him.


    "Thanks, I'm bleeding now!" He informed, still curled up on the floor. He hoped the stranger wouldn't attack him anymore, as he was already in a lot of pain.


    ooc;; you're fine! i understand haha.

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative

    Greyson scooted back even more as he saw the intruder stumble back. He'd dropped the remaining part of the lamp now, the broken glass of the bulb scattered around the floor precariously. He frantically looked around the room only to find that it was still dark. He couldn't see where he had landed until the lights suddenly flickered on.


    He was a little glad that he'd managed to incapacitate the supposed fiend. He'd expected to be the one himself, stumbling and getting hit with something. Hearing the person yell gibberish, he assumed that maybe this guy either was from another country, or one of those weirdos on bath salts he'd heard about on TV.


    Greyson looked to the intruder, first glancing at their legs drawn to their body. He'd seen some blood drip to the floor. He hoped he didn't hit him hard enough to be arrested himself. He considered it would probably be self defense in court, but he had bigger problems right now. He looked at see the face of the guy. He would need to be able to identify him to the police.


    His face is covered, damn, he thought to himself. He hoped the doors were at least locked so he couldn't get back out. Greyson stumbled back to his feet, keeping a stance suited for either running away, or hitting the guy again. As he kept staring, he noticed the amount of blood he'd drawn from the guy. He also noticed the weird cat-like ears the guy spouted from his head. He must be on bath salts to be wearing something like that... [color=#f48042]"I'm sorry...no, no I'm not! I'm calling the police, you weirdo!"

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;][size=8][color=#ffffff]Destiel groaned, his head continuing to bleed. He knew he would have to get medical help at some point, or the blood loss would make him dizzy. The blood was in a small pool now, most likely going to be a pain in the ass to clean up. He shoved on hand in his pocket, feeling around. He pulled out a small towel, he kept it for emergencies like this. He pushed it against his wound, wiping the blood from his free hand on his suit.


    He then looked up at the other, a look of distress on his face. He was in a lot of pain right now, but he didn't think the other was gonna help him. He was glad to see he wasn't armed anymore, but he looked like he could still punch him in the face at any moment. He gave a small chuckle at the mention of the police, knowing they wouldn't be able to help him. He put a hand against the wall, shakily attempting to stand while he stared at the other. He justt wanted to make sure we wouldn't be attacked again.


    [color=#D8BFD8]"Yeah, the police won't help. Might want to call foreign affairs instead."

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative

    Greyson squinted at the man's features. He first noticed his skin was a strange color, and that the ears moved slightly as he talked. The guy's nose was strange too. Was this some kind of deformity? He stared for a long while at the guy, noticing so much of his strange look. He was so busy concentrating on that, that he'd lowed his guard. He inched closer and bent down to get a better look.


    The notice of just how much blood he'd caused to leak from the intruder's head startled him. He didn't want to kill the guy. He just wanted to scare him away from his home. He had no choice but to help him. He slowly careened over, his guard back up. The first aid kit was in the upstairs bathroom. Greyson figured he'd have to escort the guy there, lest he try something funny.


    [color=#f48042]"Do you...do you have any weapons?" He asked. He wanted to help, but he knew he should still be cautious.



    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;][font='Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif'][size=8]Destiel leaned his body against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't know such a dumb thing could cause so much pain. He blamed himself for this situation. If he was more careful, he would have just gotten food, fell asleep, and would have been out before the stranger was even awake. He required fewer hours of sleep than a human did, averaging around 3 to 4 hours. After that, he'd be good for almost 20 hours after that.


    He peered over at the stranger, watching him slowly get closer. Ah, he was still scared. Probably more scared as Destiel clearly wasn't normal. He loved scaring humans with his odd features, they're so easy to interest. He blamed it on their smaller and more simpler minds.


    "No, I don't carry weapons. I like to rely on brute strength... Actually, that's a lie. I can't really fight... I don't like to fight, anyways." He admitted, giving a small smile. He removed the cloth from his head, it now very stained with blood. Upon closer inspection, you could tell his blood wasn't actually the dark red you'd think it was. It was actually a dark purple color, the dark shade making it seem a bit red in the dark or from far away. He felt his head, the bleeding had stopped. He sighed, shoving the cloth he was using before back into his pocket.


    "So, uh... I'm Destiel. Nice to meet you, I guess?"[color=#ffffff] He offered his hand, not sure if the other would agree to shake his hand. Hey, might as well be polite.

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative


    Grayson didn't know if he should feel bad about hitting him. On one hand, this... Person? Thing? Intruded his home without his permission. On the other, he was bleeding a lot more that he had intended. The nicer part of him took over eventually, with the other part of him becoming irritated. He sighed audibly.


    "I...I'm sorry for hurting you so badly." his brow furrowed and he looked away slightly.


    He looked to the broken glass on the floor, and reminded himself to clean that later. Grayson then looked back to the strange looking man. He flinched a bit, noticing the blood on the cloth. He hated himself for doing that now. He felt a bit sick, and he could smell the metallic smell of blood from there. His nose wrinkled at the cloth being shoved back into the man's pocket.


    "Err...I'm Grayson." He stared a bit at the hand. He noticed that it was a bit furry-looking. He flinched back a bit instinctively. He didn't shake the hand. [color=#f48042]"Um...would you like a bandage for that?" He pointed to the large scar on his head.

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;][font='Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif'][size=8]Destiel pulled his hand away when it was clear the other wasn't going to accept his offer to shake his hand. At least he tried. He sighed, gently touching the wound on his head. He was still in a lot of pain, but he was glad the bleeding stopped. He looked down at the floor, assessing the damage, before bringing his attention back to the other.


    "It's fine, I guess. I don't blame you for attacking me, so..." He shrugged, leaning back against the wall again. Greyson, huh? He liked it. Name fit the face nicely. [color=#D8BFD8]"That'd be nice, yeah. I can, uh, clean the blood up too. I wouldn't want you to, since its... Kinda gross."[color=#ffffff] He offered, giving him a weak smile. Man, he was too polite. Props to his mom, he guessed.

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative


    Grayson awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. The remorse was quickly washing over him. He didn't exactly know how to make up for almost bashing someone's skull in. He justified himself though. He was still an intruder. But he was helping him? And why does he look like that? These questions swirled around in his mind. But its not like you can just ask someone why they look the way they do. He was a little weirded out by the cat ears, and questioned their validity. He knew the silence was about to kill him, so he finally broke it.


    [color=#f48042]"You...can follow me, I guess." He turned around, heading towards the stairs. He looked back at him as he walked up the stairs.


    The stairs creaked underfoot, seeing as they were quite old and rickety. The house itself look a bit old, sort of as if an older man lived in it at some point, despite him being the only dweller. Every room was small, however, even the living room couch seemed too big for the room as they passed it. Almost all the furniture looked used.


    As Grayson led him to the upstairs closet, his paranoia got the best of him. He wanted to trust the guy that he had no weapons, but couldn't help but look back. He envisioned the man pulling out a knife or a gun and pressing it to his back as he stole most of his belongings. So far, that hadn't been true.

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;][font='Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif'][size=8][color=#ffffff]Destiel followed the other, making sure to step over the blood and glass. He'd feel so bad if he tracked the blood through this guy's apartment. Speaking of his apartment, it seemed small and old. It was like a 70-year-old man was living here and not someone in their twenties. Wait, was he in his twenties? He had no clue, but he looked young enough to be early twenties. He always had a hard time guessing human's ages, they all looked so odd and not like their ages. He was around 19 in human years if he did the math right. Did he look "his age"?


    He shrugged the thought off, as it wasn't very important. He looked around at Greyson's apartment as they walked, taking in everything. One thing bugged him the most. The smell. It smelt really odd in here. He couldn't quite place it, but it wasn't something that he's smelt before. Was it the owner? He was tempted to get closer and have a whiff, but he decided to wait to be any weirder than he already was. He'd rather not get attacked again.

    [center]




    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative


    Grayson stopped when he made his way to his upstairs closet. He had to dig around a bit to find it, considering he hadb't used the first aid kit for a long time, but eventually found it. He then led the strange man to his bathroom. The bathroom looked just as old as the rest of his home, with a few more modern appliances. "Could you sit here?" He gestured towards the toilet seat.


    He frequently glanced at the person, trying not to obviously look at his extra features. He, of course, failed. He wanted to ask so badly why he looked that way, and why he had the ears of a cat. He was still slightly afraid, and neglected coming too near up until this point.


    Laying the kit on the edge of the sink, he rummaged through the box. It held basic first aid supplies; most importantly the bandages Destiel needed. He grabbed a rag as well, then poured a little alcohol on it. [color=#ffa0d6]"This may sting," He said. He gently pressed the cloth on his temple, where a scar has begun to form.

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:425px;]Destiel continued to follow the other, gazing around his new surroundings. He still couldn't place the smell, and it started to bother him. He had no idea why it did, but it did. The pain from his wound brought him back to reality, walking a but faster. He followed the other into the bathroom, looking around.

    "Oh, uh, yeah. Sure." He say on the toilet, his ears twitching slightly. He watched as the other rummaged through the small first aid kit. He took the chance to look over him, kind of analyzing him. He wasn't bad looking, but had an odd malnourished look to him. He was lanky and tall, which is why he thought what he did.

    He, again, was pulled back into reality by the pain in his temple. As Greyson began to clean his wound, he have a small hiss of pain. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, he was more surprised than anything. He needed to really stop drifting into his thoughts in moments like this.


    ooc;; sorry if there is any mistakes, I am in mobile and my autocorrect sucks. aka it will change words like with to 27th and stupid stuff like that lmao.

    [center][size=9][font=tahoma]
    //     thats fine!
    [center]



    "Speaking" - Thinking - Narrative


    Grayson had never really done first aid on anyone before. He wasn't exactly sure if he was doing the right thing. He'd maybe hurt himself once or twice, and had to tend to his own wounds, but he was worried whether or not he was actually doing any good. He finished doing this, then tossed the cloth. He rummaged through the first aid kit again, and pulled out a cotton bandage and medical tape. He felt the wound was a little too big for just a regular band-aid. Maybe I should've just taken him to the hospital, he thought as he cut the medical tape to size. But he also wondered how the hospital would react to a furry guy with cat ears. He was still debating whether or not this was a costume.


    "This shouldn't hurt as much," He said while taping the bandage to his temple. Being able to feel the soft fur he now knew covered the man was what creeped out Grayson the most. He could feel it brush against his hand as he carefully tended to his wound. He couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to ask about him. [color=#ffa0d6]"So...w-what's your name?" His voice sounded hesitant.