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handler: vicki
age: 25/26
occupation: level zero
affiliation: n/a
application: -
plotter link: -
gif link: http://68.media.tumblr.com/6e610b76d02b0d697b8a514b9e6de001/tumblr_okeynq1nF01vmjs6wo2_250.gif
lyrics: Oh I'm a machine when I do it
I'll be catching fire, gasoline when I do it
Just cause you're packin', packin', whoop, down south
That don't mean I'm ever gonna take it laying down
Joined: 16-June 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Jul 17 2017, 09:57 PM
Local Time: Oct 22 2017, 03:18 PM
9 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.03% of total forum posts )
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felicity morrison


My Content
Jul 9 2017, 08:23 PM

<div class="hero1">I found it in silence, I finally see
There's no turning back, I know what's good for me</div>
<div class="hero2">

<div class="hero3"></div>

Flick was sat in the middle of the living room, paint and markers scattered over the wooden floor and cardboard pieces spread out. It wasn't an uncommon sight for her roommates, them all knowing her affinity for protesting in any sort of march that was organised for the protection or help of anyone or anything in need. This time, it was for the release of killer whales kept in captivity. Blackfish had inspired her and countless others, and now a full blown march was organised against SeaWorld, with hundreds of people slated to turn up to march outside the SeaWorld that was located on the South Bank of the Thames. They had been that their march was pointless by most people they had spoken to, but that had never stopped Flick from getting involved. <p>

In the middle of a placard she was currently drawing orcas all over, she heard sock-covered footsteps behind her and turning around, she saw Henry appearing from his room and heading for the kitchen. "Henry, are you busy?" She asked, using the same voice she always used on him whenever she wanted him to help her with something. "Because if you're not, how do you fancy helping me to help save orcas from captivity? I made you watch Blackfish, you know how terrible it is." She battered her eyelids at her roommate. Pretty please? Think of poor Tilikum." She held an already finished placard up, a pretty good drawing of Tilikum on it, as if her artistic skills would sway his answer.

<div class="hero1"> roomie│</div>
<span class="libcred"><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=14639">love,</a> <a href="http://candylandcouture.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=3956">libby</a></span>
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Jun 17 2017, 09:00 PM
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<li>avid protestor</li>
<li>a little salty about being dead</li>
<li>wants her housemates to see her</li>
<li>will haunt them forever if she has to.</li>


<div class="jquicksand3">

Flick was an avid protester before she died, and worked for Amnesty International as a communications planner. You'd find her at all sorts of rallies and demonstrations, usually up at the front and causing the most noise, getting her point across. Protesting since she was younger, usually about how unfair it was boys got to wear shorts to school and she had to wear a dress, it was her life and she was never happy unless she was sticking up for vulnerable people or animals, or her feminist rights.<p>

She died as a result of trying to protect a homeless man from a group of thugs and although she's dead, she doesn't regret trying to help the man. Knowing all about ghosts and whatnot, she wasn't phased when she returned as an non-corporeal presence. However, she's finding it difficult not being able to interact with anyone, including her roommates, none of which have ghost goggles. She's restless and frustrated and is commited to haunting her roommates until they finally invest in goggles, but she knows she's going to go crazy soon if she doesn't speak to her friends and if she doesn't find a way to protest something soon.<p>

Friends: she will have had a lot of friends, through work, protesting and her roommates. She's usually quite lively and bubbly and always up for fun so she tends to gravitate towards people as vibrant as her and vice versa. But she'll have friends from all walks of life. She misses contact now she's a ghost and is desperate for her roommates to get ghost goggles so they can see her.<p>
Enemies: Not really. She might protest against governments, big companies, political leaders but she's never made that much of an impact to make herself a nuisance to them. Aside from that, she genuinely means well and tries not to offend anyone unless they deserve it.<p>
Lovers: Before she died, there will have been relationships, but they most likely would have broken down when she fund out they supported animal testing or bought products with palm oil in, so she dumped them because she wants to save the planet and the people and animals in it. Relationships aren't her strong point and she finds it difficult to juggle all the aspects of her life when she's with someone but it doesn't stop her from trying. Her final is open!<p>

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<div class="jquicksand2">
<h1>felicity m. morrison</h1>
<h2>25/26. Ghost. F: open <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=11182">thx &raquo</a></a></h2>

Jun 16 2017, 11:36 PM
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felicity m. morrison

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stella maeve

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She was in her element. <p>

The atmosphere was electric, bodies in sync with each other, all their for a shared purpose. She felt alive, united with strangers she didn’t know, caught up in the action, the emotion, the people. They were all there for one reason – a united front for the masses, for the people. They were the ones who stood up for the poor, the needy, the homeless, the innocent and the vulnerable. They were ones who made their voices heard, whether it was raining or shining, whether they were listened to or not. They were the ones who gave their time to help others, to ensure society was equal. Some of them even gave their lives to help those less fortunate than themselves.<p>

Felicity Morrison was one of them.<p>

She had been protesting, almost heading the march against the government, armed with words and placards, with like-minded people and allies. She was never more alive than when she could stand up for the silenced members of community, could demonstrate against things she didn’t agree with, things she wouldn’t stand for.<p>

Democracy was a wonderful thing, something Felicity took full advantage of/<P>

Drums banging, rain coming down, people chanting, shouting their views, their disagreements, their songs, it was their own personal concert, their time to shine. They didn’t need stadiums or big screens, tech teams or management. They just needed true grit, spirit and a platform to speak upon. And London was the perfect place for a protest. All walks of life joined them – young and old, rich and poor, males, females and everyone in between. It wasn’t often the people of London came together so unanimously and for that, Felicity had never felt prouder to be a Londoner.<p>

Protesting was in her blood, standing up for most vulnerable in her bones. She couldn’t help herself when their a rumour floating around the city, an inkling of a rebellion. She was always the first there, rallying the crowds, firing up everyone. She was a born leader, selfless and giving, she was the epitome of what a good person should be.<p>

But it ultimately led to her downfall.<p>

She had noticed a gang of men, heckling a homeless man as he walked the street, minding his own business. She could never hold her tongue, not even when all signs pointed to danger. She stormed over, the hero she thought she was, giving them a mouthful, shielding the homeless man behind her. They shouted, she shouted, they tussled, punches were thrown.<p>

The rest she doesn’t quite remember.<p>


She felt the pain. <p>

It was unlike nothing she had ever felt. The shock in her system wore off to make way for excruciating agony. She fell to ground, warmth spreading across her stomach. The adrenaline that had steered her over to the gang was long gone, yet even as she lay there, she didn’t regret it.<p>

She heard people talk around her, faint mentions of ‘gunshot’ and ‘bleeding heavily’ but it was fuzzy. She didn’t have a grasp on reality, flitting in and out of consciousness.<p>
White to black, white to black, white to black.<p>

And then there was only black.



1990 - 2017



JUNE, 2017<p>

She couldn’t help but feel totally underwhelmed with the afterlife. As was she underwhelmed with her headstone. She could only scoff at ‘Rest in Peace’, clearly a joke as she sat in her apartment, unseen and unheard by her roommates who had still not gotten ghost googles. <p>

It had been months since her death. And they still hadn’t found a way to speak to her, and she was feeling a little neglected. <p>

She was annoyed, to say the least. She wasn’t asking for much, just for someone to grow a brain and realise she was there and that they could speak to her if they wanted to. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy haunting them, because she did. And she was grateful her room hadn’t been packed up and given to some random werewolf off the street. She appreciated that in a sense, they hadn’t forgotten about her really. She was still part of the flat, part of the gang, even if they couldn’t see her join in.

She was still kicking their arses at trivial pursuit, and poker became so much more fun when you could cheat. They still ate nachos and dip at the kitchen table, desperados with lime sat on the coasters, sombrero’s in the corner. Mexican night was her tradition and they kept it up.<p>

She would admit the first time they did it without her, she cried.<p>

She just wanted to be seen, to be touched.<p>
But most of all, to be heard.<p>
It tortured her that the voice she had once used so often to help people, strangers on the street, poor communities in other countries, was gone. The voice that made her strong, that made her her was finally silenced.<p>
And it almost killed her again.<p>

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<div class="alias-box"> vicki - gmt - 25 </div>

<a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=165"><div style="width: 450px;text-align: right; font-family: cambria; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; font-style: italic; color: #000; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: 1px;"> ♥ SARA! </div></a>

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