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CSU is a text-based, self-hosted roleplay site created in 2013. It's set in Colorado at a fictional university. Register with your character's first and last name with proper capitalization. Unfortunately due to the presence of bots we've had to turn on admin validation of all accounts, so please be patient with us or drop us a message in the cbox to remind us you're here! Once your account has been validated, feel free to apply with a profile and join in the fun!

Centennial State University, founded in 1891, is a prestigious public university located south of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Its remote location serves as a great higher education grounds, as there are little distractions yet many learning experiences. CSU offers a wide array of degrees, from wildlife conservation to video game design to dance, just to name a few. Our science and arts departments are among the nation's finest, and our intercollegiate athletics programs are rising up more and more every year. If you're interested in having both the experience of a lifetime and the best education in the midwest, then apply today and call CSU home.

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Mickey Laslow

Member Since 23 Jun 2016
Offline Last Active Apr 09 2017 01:51 PM

Posts I've Made

In Topic: Fresh Blood

09 April 2017 - 01:51 PM

Things had been somewhat settled the last time Mickey had crossed paths with the lumbering rage giant that was Scott Emerson, but that didn't mean a single thing to Mickey at this point. He would have been terrified of the guy regardless of the mix up but certainly that little Freaky Friday switcheroo didn't make anything any better, that much was for sure. It also didn't help matters much that Scott seemingly forgot about the whole twin thing. Already he was curling into himself defensively, arms raising to cover his face as he saw the distance between them start to shrink.

And then, just like that, it stopped, a thought clicked, and his safety was assured, though by then anxiety and genuine fear had already done its damage to poor Mickey's overworked nervous system. There went another year off of an already paranoia shortened life. Poor kid.

And there was that word again - roommate. How had that even been decided? He had certainly never verbally agreed to it. Then again, he had never disagreed to it, either, if only because getting that many words out in a row successfully was, well, a bit of a stretch. Add to that the fact that he thought they might be slightly confrontation words and, well... you know the rest. Still, he had to try.

"Uh, I... I actually don't... I mean, you guys are nice and all, but..." Poor kid. He had tried, he really had, and success was on the horizon, right there in his reach, when just as he prepared to deny any alligations of future roommate situations, someone else entered the fray.

He was a little less intimidating than Scott, at least. Messy hair, sleep hooded eyes, he had clearly just woken up (at two in the afternoon, no less) and was a little confused as he slinked into the room, hunched over and wincing. "What the hell, man, volume control."

In Topic: Fresh Blood

08 April 2017 - 01:25 PM

This was a no good, very bad idea.

Mickey had lucked up initially, somehow, in losing his dormmate only a week into the quarter, which was a heavensent bleeding straight from the gods themselves to be quite honest. He would have truly been content just living on his own, too. That was actually a bit of a fantasy of his, if not just his dream come true. People congregating in places were likely his biggest fear, even if it was just one person, and even if it was in his own homestead. He just... couldn't deal with them. He wasn't misanthropic or anything, not really; he didnt hate people or anything so much as he feared them.

Truth be told, there were maybe two people total in his life that didnt terrify the everloving shit out of him, and one just happened to be family.

So meeting Gabe wasn't quite the anime shower of cherry blossoms that Gabe had seemingly assumed it was. How he missed the hunched back, wide eyed look of terror often scripted behind Mick's glasses was a mystery, but to onlookers surely it has to look like a predator dragging its prey from one apartment to the next. All that was missing was the bear trap that snagged him and some poor flannel fashion choices and the scene would honestly resembled some mangled hunting scene on a b-list station morning line up.

The entire situation was a blue, as much of their encounters had been. Social anxiety for Mick came with a nice little hair trigger button that threw his consciousness in the background of his mind while he watched on in horror as he stammered and stuttered his way through the motions, attempting to seem human and normal all the while. How all those blunders ended up in some successful invitation to live with Gabe was... well, a damn mystery.

But here he was, deer in headlights in front of a face he remembered all too well.

"I... uh... I don't..." The school wasn't small by any means so he never expected to come face to face with the guy that had all but harassed him at some stupid frat party. Poor kid. He had assumed himself safe so long as he stayed indoors, but now he couldn't even do that properly. Already he was edging behind Gabe, chickenshit as he was, avoiding eye contact with the dude at least twice his size.

In Topic: Try the Bass

25 June 2016 - 01:14 AM

This encounter quickly went from devious to genuine at Max's inclusion of Noah's shirt. He liked his fraternity brothers just fine, loved them, but no one else really understood or even cared for his intense love for memes. He found them outright hilarious and referenced them almost constantly and, much to his disappointment, no one ever got it, and if they did they hated it.

He was but a lonely meme farmer, tending his memes.

"Asking anyone to name just four memes is blasphemy man. Listen. There are new memes and old memes and they're all great? Okay, both spongebob related memes popular right now are bomb as fuck. The dat boi meme? Fuckin priceless. But consider this, okay: doge meme? Do a barrel roll? Advice wolf?"

He paused for a second, chugging his own beer and grabbing another two for them both. "What's your name anyway?"

In Topic: Try the Bass

24 June 2016 - 11:19 PM

Mickey had no reason to cover for Nicholas. They weren't exactly close, after all. They weren't mortal enemies or anything, not quite, but Nicholas didn't associate with Mickey and Mickey, in turn, kept out of his twin's hair. Their parents had done a lot to set the two against each other in hopes that some 'good, friendly' competition would do them good. They had done it the entirely wrong way, though, by tearing both down in private, always using the other as a skapegoat to further their goals. It had ended up having the complete opposite endgame that they'd expected. Instead of both of them being determined, smart, sharp boys, they became... well, what they were. Nicholas was attention hungry and entitlted, always of the mindset that he was owed something because he'd been denied so much luxury as a child, and Mickey's self-esteem just shattered.

It was odd.

He was starting to feel a little upset for Scott by proxy, though, if only because his deeply sensitive nature was picking up on some kind of emotional rift radiating from the guy. He seemed... far more bothered than some random good citizen would be about this. A lot more involved, too, deeply invested not only in this situation but in the girl in question in general. He frowned a little at his outburst of denial and then further as Scott began working the situation up as what it really was, asking for weaknesses and ways to diffuse it before it really ever got a chance to go anywhere.

It was a little overwhelming, being asked all these questions, though he did appreciate the video game terminology. "Well, uh... wow, that's a hard question, um... oh! Well, I guess the biggest soft spot in his armor is that he doesn't really talk like that all the time, I mean... I uh, I hope you know what I'm talking about. The... The super formal, flowery thing he does? That's really fake. He's actually really... informal and crass. He doesn't like showing that in front of girls... so you could probably break that down somehow..." How far could he go with this? He wasn't close with his twin but there was still an undeniable bond there regardless. Then again, this was for the good of another person, right? This wasn't sabotage just for the sake of sabotage. "He's also kind of insecure, I mean... it's not obvious but he really doesn't like to lose, and he doesn't like rejection.  If you could... bring that up somehow with some uh, some credible sources, it would probably trigger his enraged phase."

In Topic: Try the Bass

24 June 2016 - 10:43 PM

Okay, so she wasn't his girlfriend. Hadn't the word girlfriend been said at some point during this conversation? He was fairly sure he'd heard the world girlfriend at least once. Nonetheless, he didn't question that nuance nor the really weird way Scott stutter-stumbled over the explanation altogether, instead taking in every bit of information provided all the while his own expression grew somber. He knew what was going on. He knew what this meant. He knew enough about Nicholas to know what he was doing, what he was capable of. As the brother hidden from the limelight of the family, he'd seen it happen many, many times before. Never with girls, of course, as Mickey had never branched far enough out of his own comfort zone to consider that, but material things? Attention of any kind? Yeah, he always got that.

Nicholas was the master of getting anything and everything he wanted. Already he knew (or figured, at least) that Scott was way, way out of his league. Rip in peace, bro.

"Ah, I mean, you aren't... wrong. About the getting into her pants thing, he... he does that a lot." He wasn't wrong about the slimey part, either, but Mick didn't voice that if only because he was terrified that somehow Nicholas would hear him. "The only problem is, well... uh, he usually gets what he wants. I mean, he's... he's really determined, and uh, he can be kind of... charming." Manipulative. That was the word he wanted to use but, again, fear. "I don't... I don't think I've ever seen anyone turn him down, so..."