Personal Photo

No Photo

Custom Title
andrew whitney doesn't have a custom title currently.
Personal Info
Location: No Information
Born: 8 August 1973
Website: No Information
No Information
Other Information
ALIAS: Alice
HEIGHT: 6'4"
AGE: 41
OCCUPATION: undisclosed
QUOTE/LYRICS: No Information
Joined: 8-June 14
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Nov 17 2014, 07:27 AM
Local Time: Jul 20 2018, 12:08 PM
41 posts (0 per day)
( 0.48% of total forum posts )
Contact Information
AIM No Information
Yahoo No Information
GTalk No Information
MSN No Information
SKYPE No Information
Unread Msg Message: Click here
Unread Msg Email: Click Here
View Signature

andrew whitney


My Content
Sep 11 2014, 07:41 PM

<div style="width: 440px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 15px; border-top: 1px dotted #dfddd9; border-bottom: 1px dotted #dfddd9;"><div style="width: 420px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 10px;">

<td><div style="width:200px;height:300px; background-image: url(;"></div></td>

<td><div style="width:190px;height:275px; background-color: #fff; color: #2E2633; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; text-transform: normal; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; padding: 10px;">

It as been one of the busier days at work. Having get there for six in the morning, he hoped to finish by lunchtime but unfortunately, he didn't manage to get out until past six in the afternoon. Twelve. Hours. Well, if you take out lunch and bathroom breaks, eleven hours. It was still a lot though. It seemed that O'Connor thought he was onto something with one of the recent gang rights and for the entire day Andrew had even resisting the urge to go up to the guy and stick a fucking gold star on his forehead. He could put up with a lot of people being idiots and he knew that a lot of the people that he worked with didn't belong to the sharpest crayons in the box but he was having a really bad day. Unable to sneak off and without any concealed alcohol at his disposal, Andrew was even crankier than he would have been had he had the chance to get his fix. Plus he hadn't slept to well and honestly, in his opinion today could go fuck itself.<p>
It was mindless, really. He knew that by now Aubrey would probably be back from school so the decision was made by itself. Besides, after the day that he had... he figured nobody would blame him.<p>
Andrew sighed. He knew that he fucked up and it still felt all too recent but his coping mechanism was also the factor in the fucking up process. And it wasn't that he didn't want to stop... Okay, it wasn't just that. He was a coward, he knew it. Unable to face his reality, to bear the full weight of his crimes. Weak. He knew that keeping Aubrey didn't belong to the best of his ideas but he didn't want to be alone. Not that he wasn't alone already...<p>
He was a selfish bastard and really, he belonged in a cell right next to his own father. The self-loathing was pathetic, sure, but somehow it helped him go through the day.<p>
He ordered a double.

<div style="width: 375px; height: 10px; padding: 20px; background-color: #dad0b6;"><div style="width: 205px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; color: #fff; font-style: italic;">

<div style="width: 550px; text-align: right; font-family: arial; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 95%; color: 3e3e3e;"> OPEN | 352 | <3 | </div>[/dohtml]
Jul 17 2014, 12:30 PM
[dohtml]<link href='' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.bing { height:275px; overflow:auto; }
.bing::-webkit-scrollbar { width:5px; }
.bing::-webkit-scrollbar-button { width: 5px; height: 0px; }
.bing::-webkit-scrollbar-track { width:5px; }
.bing::-webkit-scrollbar-track-piece { width: 5px; background-color:white; }
.bing::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { width:5px; height:5px; background-color: #da4658; }</style>
<center><div style='width:425px; background-color:dddddd; padding:20px 40px 0px 20px;'><div style='width:405px; padding:20px; background-color:white; border-bottom:20px solid #da4658;'><div style='text-align:center; font-family:pacifico; font-size:60px; padding-bottom:25px; color:white; text-shadow:-1px 0 #da4658, 0 1px #da4658, 1px 0 #da4658, 0 -1px #da4658;'>i write sins.</div><div style='text-align:justify; font-family:arial; font-size:7px; letter-spacing:0px; text-transform:uppercase; color:999999; line-height:1em; padding:0px 10px 8px 10px;'>---------- What a shame, the poor 'husband' is a whore. I'd chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!" No, it's much better to face these kinds of things With a sense of poise and rationality. Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way, I mean technically our 'marriage' is saved. Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne... --------</div><table cellspacing='0' cellpadding='0'><tr><td><a href=""><img src=""></a></td><td><div style='width:5px;'></div></td><td><div style='width:200px; background-color:white; border-top:10px solid #dddddd; border-bottom:10px solid #dddddd; padding:5px 0px 5px 0px;'><div class="bing"><div style='text-align:justify; font-family:arial; font-size:9px; color:999999; line-height:1em; padding-right:3px;'>

It really should have been obvious, in hindsight. She might have been his first woman, but she was never the only one, especially after he had alcohol. She really shouldn’t be surprised but when she found him in their bed with some sort of a cheap prostitute, she broke down. Not until she was away from the bedroom – in fact, in Aubrey’s room – but still. She couldn’t help but cry and regret the year of voluntary celibacy while Andrew tried to get himself sober… Though honestly, he never had any intention to do so. Or it just didn’t seem like it to her; always hearing the same old explanations, always on the phone to him late at night telling him not to come home. At least most of the time he would listen… though not all.<p>
It has been a few days since Cheyenne discovered Andrew cheating and even though it was quite hot out she was forced to wear long sleeves and trousers; his reaction wasn’t exactly the most favourable towards her. Of course, once sobered up he apologised, he always did. But the damage was done and Chey wasn’t sure what to do with herself.<p>
In order to win some points back, Andrew suggested having a barbecue. Thankfully enough Cheyenne was looking after a friends’ house while they went on holiday, so they could have the barbecue in their back garden as opposed to the communal garden that they had. Honestly, she wished they lived in a house; the flat was too cramped. Or maybe it was just that there wasn’t anywhere to hide.<p>
She smiled, looking at the kids playing together and then glanced at Andrew. He seemed to be focusing on the burgers, his eyebrows knit together as he examined and turned them. He had a cigarette behind his ear and Cheyenne really wanted to see it fall in between the coals.<p>
“Aubrey, Bailey!” She called to the children. “Come here please.”

Jul 10 2014, 06:56 AM

#circleh{ width:300px; height:300px; margin-top:-250px; border-radius:100%; position:relative; }
#circleh .circlein { -moz-transform: scale(1.5,1.5); -webkit-transform: scale(1.5,1.5); -o-transform: scale(1.5,1.5); transform: scale(1.5,1.5); transition-duration:1s; opacity:0; position:absolute; left:50px; top:50px; }
#circleh .circlein:hover { -moz-transform: scale(1,1); -webkit-transform: scale(1,1); -o-transform: scale(1,1); transform: scale(1,1); opacity:1; }

<div style="width:300px; height:250px; background-color:#ffffff; border-radius:100%; padding-top:50px;"><div style="width:200px; height:200px; background-color:#f0f0f0; border-radius:100%; background-image:url('');"><div style="text-align:center; font-size:8px; font-family:times new roman; background-color:#ffffff;position:relative; top:150px; left:0px; padding:5px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#0f0f0f;">all of the alcoholics</div></div>

<div id="circleh"><div class="circlein">

<div style="width:170px; height:170px; background-color:#fafafa; padding:15px; text-align:justify; overflow:auto; font-family:times new roman; font-size:9px; color:#0f0f0f; line-height:110%;">

Even though he woke up early as hell just to get himself ready for all this, he still didn’t feel as if the notion of taking Aubrey to the festival helped with anything at all. That would be one of the reasons he was stood in the queue to free alcohol. He couldn’t take it sober. Bored, he would check his phone every one point five minutes, in order to see if Aubrey contacted him; every single time the screen was all clear. Andrew kind of regretted coming.<p>
The entire thing was just a bit too… busy, too loud and colourful. He knew that Aubrey really wanted to go there and that was the only reason as to why he tried in the first place. But he couldn’t stand to be in such a place, sober, for a long period of time.<p>
He took to looking around to see if he could spot someone he knew and quickly, he found he was in luck. Right behind him stood one of the people he would often drink with. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to the guy.<p>
“Didn’t think I’d see you here…”




Jun 20 2014, 07:31 AM
You didn’t just do that. Didn’t just disappear like this. It wasn’t allowed. And they lived on Andrew’s terms.

One moment they were having a screaming match and the next she up and left. He was too drunk to even think of stopping her; besides, it wasn’t like she’d never walked out the house in anger. Or frustration. Or something else. But it was when she didn’t show up the following day that he flared up. He hadn’t stopped drinking since she left and that only fuelled his anger. It was unfortunate that Aubrey was in his way. It could have been different under regular circumstances but… He finished off his whiskey – he’d never put the bottle down until he was done with it – and swung at the annoying child.

He was a pest. He needed so much attention and Andrew just didn’t have the patience and every time he heard “daddy, where’s mummy?” he broke just a little bit more. Until finally, he couldn’t take it. It was then that his fist connected with Aubrey’s jaw.

“Obviously, she’s not fucking here.” Was what he mumbled, as he hit the child again and again until he shut up. “I doubt she’s coming back. She doesn’t love you anymore.” He whispered as he continuously hit the boy, never ceasing until he was curled up on the floor, unresponsive. Finally silence. Andrew took another bottle.


She came back. Of course she did, she always came back. Eventually, she would show up at the door, begging for him to let her back in. It seemed that she believed that he was passed out on the sofa because he could hear how cautious her steps were, trying to make sure she didn’t disturb him. So she didn’t want to be found out. Perfect.

It was when she turned her back that he got up. He had so much more practice in coming home and making sure he was quiet after a long shift and that made it that much easier to sneak up on her. He placed a hand on Aubrey’s bedroom door and towered above her; he could hear her breath quicken. He pressed against her, his form huge compared to her tiny frame. Her hair was too light, different than what it used to be. He never liked the fact that she took to dyeing it but then again, he was already getting his first grey hair at twenty-nine. Considering the amount of stress he put her through it wasn’t really all that surprising. But he didn’t care about that. At least she was here now.

He gripped her shoulder and spinned her around, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. She winced; there must have been bruises there.

“Where’s Aubrey?” Her voice was shaking as she stared up at him with a terrified look in her eyes. It was a Sunday so he didn’t have school; that was what she was alluring to. He smiled an ugly smile that had no happiness in it whatsoever.

“Not here.” He replied, his eyes locked with Cheyenne’s. There wasn’t much point in stating otherwise, after all, she would have found out eventually.

“You stink of alcohol.”

So she was in a more forward mood today. That was okay. He needed to let out his emotions and it was a great opportunity for him to do so. In response to her accusatory tone, he fisted a hand in her hair and turned her back around again, if only to slam her face-first into the door.

“Anything else you wanted to say, Miss Obvious?” He uttered as he held her against the door. He could see her chest heaving as she tried to breathe.

“Where… is he?” She whispered; her voice little. She looked back at him.

“In hospital.” After all, what could she do? There was nothing. He was there now, out of the way. Finally, he had some time alone with Cheyenne without the kid attached to her hip.

Her eyes widened and she trembled. He could feel how terrified he was and it only egged him on further.

“You left, I got drunk and he was in the way.” He murmured before grabbing her by her clothes and shoving her into the hallway. “I couldn’t help myself, Chey…”

Knowing full well that she would try and console him if he used that tone, he did. After all, she knew about the past. She knew about it all and that was partially the reason why she withstood it.

“You didn’t…”

He could barely hear her by now; it was like her voice didn’t want to work with her. She was just so scared… He wrapped an arm around her throat in order to impede her breathing as she pulled out a phone with shaky hands. He constricted her airways further so that she dropped it to the ground. It was then stepped on and kicked away. He couldn’t have her contact the hospital. Or anyone else in that case. He couldn’t just have the risk. He valued his job and the fact that he could still think about that meant that he didn’t drink enough. Not by a long shot.

Once again, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her along, listening to her scream as he tore a clump of hair out of her scalp.

“And so what if I did…?” He asked quietly, his eyes trained on her. He finally let go of her and grabbed at an empty bottle from the coffee table and smashed it against it. The shards of glass went all over but he had what he needed now – a weapon. She shook, her hands fisted and she tried to swing back at him. She was fighting back for the very first time in over a decade that they knew each other. Andrew supposed that it was a mother thing.

But he was stronger. He overpowered her with ease as he stabbed the bottle right into her stomach. He twisted it, deepening the wounds. It would have been cleaner if he’d used a knife but he didn’t want clean. He wanted to see her suffer. He wanted her to know that nobody else was ever allowed to have her. That she was his and as his, that she would die at his hand.

He needed to make sure that she didn’t do it herself. It wasn’t the way he’d have this go. She shouldn’t have control over that. He didn’t want to let her.

He looked at her. She was a mess, her hair matted with blood and yet… so beautiful. There was something breathtaking about her like this. He ignored the screams of agony as she desperately tried to get to the home phone, finding it harder by the second as she bled out.

He took a deep breath. He was the man of the house. Everything was on his terms.
Jun 15 2014, 04:25 PM
[dohtml]<link href='' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><link href="" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"><center>
<div class="fivebyfive"><div class="post5x5">

His head was pounding. He didn’t remember much from the previous day and didn’t really want to open his eyes – the sunlight would probably kill him now. He might not have been a vampire but he was having the hangover of the fucking year. He must have not drunk enough; if he had, then he would probably still be at least tipsy.<p>
The surface on which he was laying was hard and gloriously cold so here was to hoping that he might have passed out in the bathtub. Wouldn’t be the first time. He sighed. He probably had to move. Unsure what day it was and whether he’d have to go somewhere, he was obviously reluctant. His muscles were aching as though he walked or ran for a very long time.<p>
He risked cracking an eye open slightly. At first, it was a blur of colours but then his vision sharpened. Artificial light. Good. He finally opened both his eyes to discover that he was very wrong about his whereabouts. He wasn’t in the bathtub in his house though really, he should have known that just on the basis on what he was lying on. The bench was metal, tough and unforgiving whereas the bathtub was at least somewhat comfortable.<p>
Slowly, he got himself to a sitting position. He was at an Underground station. It wasn’t exactly a new occurrence but he really didn’t remember how he got there in the first place. The last he remembered, he was still at the pub, by the bar on a tall stool having a casual drink. He liked to switch it up sometimes; being at home every time he got drunk wasn’t all that fun. Obviously, he tried to get home, probably this morning – after all, the stations closed at about eleven the previous night – but he couldn’t work out as to how in hell he managed to get himself into the Underground. He checked his pockets to see that he had no oyster.<p>
“The fuck did I get here…” He mumbled out loud.

<div class="img5x5" style="background: url(;"><div class="hunter">
<div class="lyr5x5">I'm leaving, it's the end
<b>tag:</b> open// <b>words:</b> 342// no notes :3
</div></div></div><a href="" class="hcred-5x5">( &copy; HUNTER. )</a>
Last Visitors

Oct 24 2014, 09:24 AM

Sep 1 2014, 04:29 PM

Aug 8 2014, 07:35 PM

No comments posted.
Add Comment

autumn leaves has been skinned exclusively for far beyond the looking glass by asya.
she would appreciate it if you didn't steal/use this skin without her permission.
for full credits, please view the credits post here.