Rebels & Mutineers is set in modern day New Orleans, Louisiana. R&M is fueled by player's plots and group input.
Supernatural people have always had their place in society, hidden in plain sight or locked away for their own protection. New Orleans, a haven for the strange and mysterious and a magnet for the supernatural.
Established: Oct. 27th, 2018 Recently Updated Posts && Recently Updated Threads
05.11.19
As the community reels from the untimely death of Lucia Lovelle, life has to move on. Primrose readies for the annual Prom celebration! Keep your eye out for a event board and have fun!
02.27.19
It's not too late to vote for February's OTM winners! The winners for January, keep an eye out on your messages for your winner's graphics for your signature. Already voted? Make sure you check out the Mardi Gras event board! Party up, have a good time, and enjoy!
In all honesty, Weston enjoyed being in this little asylum. It was far better than the outside world. In here, he could not hurt anyone, and he could not get hurt. Well, that is what he thought, anyway. Plus, there was a library. Most of the staff also felt sorry for the young boy, seeing as he had human mental issues as well as a cruel ability. His schizophrenia had concerned and worried him for a long time, but no one had seemed to want to listen when he was at home. His parents thought he was just a troubled boy until he was expelled from his last school. Why had this mental illness skipped over everyone else in the family? Why did it have to hit him? Weston longed for a normal life. He wanted friends, and he wanted a future. He felt trapped in his own mind and body, and Monroeville felt like a huge metaphor to him. Maybe that was why he liked it so much. It reminded him of himself. Not only was he physically trapped by the gates of Monroeville, but he was mentally trapped by his own mental illness.
The staff currently has him on Abilify in order to help calm his symptoms, but they had him on multiple different medications, such as an SSRI and valproic acid to help calm his brain a little bit. It had been working. Instead of seeing Elaina and Elliot all day, every day, he was only seeing them when he got stressed out. Sadly, by this time in his stay, he was outcasted. People already had the image of him as the odd kid who stood in the corner talking to himself. He no longer did that, but he also had no friends in this joint, aside from a few of the orderlies and staff. That worked in his favor, though. If the staff member that enjoyed him was working, he would get his favorite beverage: coffee with cream. Due to many of his medications, he was always groggy. He was not allowed to nap usually, which meant he was constantly dragging. He also had the awful side effect of dry mouth, which sipping on hot bean water helped manage. Also, luckily for him, the old lady librarian had a soft spot for the tall boy. He would give her a charming, lopsided smile and compliment, and she would allow him to grab his current reading selection and hot coffee to the back window and read until his next appointment.
That was exactly what he was doing on this rainy Tuesday morning. He was sprawled out in the bay window in the very back of the room. He had a book on his lap, thumb marking the page in which he left off. His warm drink was sitting in the window sill, steaming up the cool, damp window. His head was against the dull colored wall, dark eyes closed in exhaustion.
Post by Benjamin Townsend on Dec 9, 2018 4:13:30 GMT
at most I'm sleeping all these demons away
Medication had never sat well with Ben. He had watched what had happened to his mother when she was on antidepressants and how she had become a listless ghost of herself. He had experienced it first hand when he was still a child. The sluggish movement, the constant haze that consumed his thoughts. He despised the very notion of it.
Since he was ten he'd refused to willingly consume almost any form of medication. Most were hardpressed to even get him to take something as mundane as aspirin. Here in Monroeville where every answer was a pill Ben fought viciously to keep his clarity of mind.
The orderlies and therapist quickly learned that administering anything to the bone manipulator without an ability blocker at hand was virtually impossible. When their attempts failed he was thrown into solitary. He was still trapped but at least he had his clarity. The rabble-rouser had avoided his medication that day and was in the process of avoiding his scheduled appointment with one of the shrinks.
He beamed as he slunk into the depths of the library. Between the shelves of books and empty tables, he was able to avoid the attention of those who would force him to attend. He walked with purpose as he found his way toward his favorite section. A tattooed hand ran over the musty spines of tomes that resided in the horror section of Monroeville's library. They were few in number and well abused but still legible, the only thing that mattered to Ben. He'd already read through most of the collection once and was making a second run at it.
Without thinking he selected a novella known as Cabal by one of the master's of horror, Clive Barker. With his tattered paperback in hand, Ben shuffled to the very back of the library. That was when he caught a whiff of the familiar scent. He paused and lifted his nose to the sky, inhaling deeply.
The bitter aroma of coffee filled his nostrils and he felt his mouth water. How long had it been since he'd last had a cup? Caffeine was strictly prohibited to him due to his condition. It had proven a hard commodity to acquire, even harder than the stash of cigarettes he had. The scent guided his feet toward a window nook where a lanky man was passed out, head resting against the cold glass.
Ben had seen the man before. Weston, he thought, recalling the name of the figure. He'd never spoken much with him but Ben was aware of his reputation as a bit of an oddity. That didn't particularly phase Ben considering his own odd group of friends. Besides, the guy had coffee which was reason enough to pester him.
Ben took up a position beside the window, his back against the wall and his book tucked under his arm. "Good spot for a nap," he said, loud enough to rouse the man from his slumber. "Bad place for a cup of coffee. Sitting out here, completely defenseless. Begging for someone to snatch it up. Be quite a shame if that happened." Ben's words were playful as he looked to his side. Ben could be downright unsavory but he wouldn't go so far as to steal a man's coffee. That was, in his book, a dick move. The temptation was real though.
Most of Wes’ dreams were mostly empty spaces where all he saw were shapes of gray taunting him. There was nothing going on in his mind during his slumber, which was why he enjoyed his little cat-naps so much. They allowed him to escape from the horrors of his daily mind. Most of the reason his mind hollowed out during nap time was because of his medication. He could have the vivid nightmares and his mind would be wiped by the time he woke up. He was never able to remember them. It was like having their doctor Charlie’s ability used on them.
Wes opened his eyes as soon as he heard a male voice speak. He slowly turned his head toward the sound, a blank expression on his mousy face. It took him a moment to register that the voice was talking to him. No one in this place talked to him aside from the staff members. It also wasn’t a rude tone of voice, but more of a joking tone. Wes wasn’t used to this type of interaction with people his age.
“Oh, uhm.”
He stuttered. He cleared his throat, hoping to not sound so tired and sleepy. It was not everyday he was graced with the presence of another. He sat up, placing his feet on the ground, taking the coffee in his hand. He handed it to the boy in front of him, a sort of peace offering.
“There’s no sugar in it. Just good ol’ coffee and cream.”
He told the boy who he thought was named Benjamin.
“It isn’t doing much for me today, as you can clearly see. Might as well go to someone who can stay awake long enough to finish it before it gets too cold.”
Post by Benjamin Townsend on Dec 29, 2018 22:35:18 GMT
at most I'm sleeping all these demons away
"Oh, well you're giving it to the wrong person," Ben said as he gratefully took the cup. The bitter taste of coffee washed over his tongue as he upended the cup. He wasn't picky about his caffeine. He took it from whatever source was most readily available. He only craved the energizing effect it had. Years of abusing caffeine had dulled its effect but the craving lived on. "Narcolepsy's funny, one minute you're drinking coffee next minute you're falling asleep and dumping a hot beverage all over yourself. Makes life exciting." Ben took another sip before extending his arm toward Weston. He gave the cup a gentle shake indicating his desire to share.
Usually Ben was hesitant to talk about his narcolepsy. It opened up a line of questioning that left him feeling vulnerable. He had a nagging suspicion that it was common ground for him and Weston.
"You're Wes, right? I've seen you around. What's got you so out of sorts, hm?" If rumors held true the boy in the bay window had some sort of schizophrenic disorder. Other patients regularly gossiped, making idle guesses as to what he was talking about when he muttered to himself. Ben had simply watched on with curiosity. "Nightmares? Insomnia? Hearing voices?" Ben spoke candidly as he slid down the wall he'd posted up on. He sat with his arms resting upon his knees and his head turned toward the pale figure.
He experienced his own fair share of sleep issues. The dark circles under his eyes were a complementing pair to Weston's own.
Wes nodded towards the boy across from him. Narcolepsy sounded like a bitch, never knowing when you were going to fall asleep. At least with him constantly being tired, he was used to always wanting to fall asleep. He was always used to forcing himself to stay awake. Hell, if he didn’t force himself to stay awake for most of the day, he would have landed himself in even more trouble than he was in on a daily basis. Wes tried to keep himself out of trouble, though a lot of what he got in trouble for, he couldn’t help. If he didn’t speak during group therapy, he got chastised for it. But he didn’t want to talk about his problems with a group of people he barely knew. He saw that as dehumanizing him, putting him at a higher risk for bullying or exile. No one wanted to associate with him because he had done some odd, strange things when he first arrived, before the medication worked for him. If he told people what was really going through his messed up mind, they would really have a hard time.
Wes brought his bony, freckled arm out, taking the coffee from Ben again. He looked down at the creamy liquid, sighing slightly. It wasn’t going to do him any good, but at least it had a pleasant taste. He threw his head back, tossing the liquid into his open mouth, closing his eyes as the warm liquid danced against his taste buds.
“Some days coffee really helps me stay awake. Other days.”
He said, shaking the empty cup, still looking at the white Styrofoam.
“It does absolutely jack shit.”
He finished, voice in a mumbling tone, almost as if he were talking to someone closer to him than Ben. This time, he was still talking to Ben. The voices had mostly diminished thanks to his heavy regimen of medications. But he had poor people skills.
When Ben asked what he had, Wes let out a small snort.
“How about all of the above? I’m constantly tired, but cannot seem to sleep during the nighttime.”
He started.
“I used to hear voices, but the docs have actually had a great idea of putting me on medication to help that stop. It just makes me tired beyond belief.”
He placed the empty coffee cup on the floor next to his left foot. He placed his elbows on his knees, looking over at Ben.
“You seem to have a good idea of what I have experienced, though. I’m not surprised; most people know what I have been through. How about you? Aside from the narcolepsy, what’s going on inside your head?”
