FatedEscapee's profile picture. I bet you didn't know that I've killed a man. [[Bates Motel/TVD Crossover.]]

Bradley Martin.

@FatedEscapee

I bet you didn't know that I've killed a man. [[Bates Motel/TVD Crossover.]]

[[hoists up a sign that reads "Will Juggle for Conditioner".]] My split ends are making me nauseous.


You learn how to give yourself amazing haircuts when on the run. [[rakes a hand through my hair.]] It came out perfectly.


I'm looking for more Bates Motel roleplayers and more followers in general. [[displays an easy smile.]] Help me out and RT.


[[rakes a brush through sandy tresses, cursing under my breath every time it gets stuck.]] I need conditioner.


I would do almost anything for a hot shower that lasted more than five minutes.


- making my way out and towards my room. || Motel, End Solo || --


- his gaze to my hips. I retrieved the key and displayed an innocent smile before saying, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," and -


- money was once placed. "What's a beautiful, young girl like yourself traveling alone for?" he inquired, conspicuously lowering -


- enough for one night." He studied my face for a moment, then offered a knowing nod as he slid a room key where the -


- he said them, placing a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "I don't have any identification, but that should be more than -


- vacancy," I said after clearing my throat. "I'd like a room for tonight." I knew the words that would come out of his mouth before -


- heart attack as an older man appeared from behind the desk, his foot steps nearly silent. "The sign outside says you have a -


- with a couple hundred of dollars, and my way into the motel. The motel was quaint, probably ran by a family. I nearly had an -


- into view. I quickly made that turn and collected my belongings, a small bad that contained a few pair of jeans and t-shirts along -


- car hummed down the road a couple more miles until, to my dismay, a a billboard that read "Mystic Falls Motel, 4 Miles Ahead" came -


- empty. "Great," I muttered to myself as I turned my high beams on, the back roads I often traveled on had little to no light. My -


- into Gill Turner's head left me with little options. I reached into my bag of chips, tinted lines forming a small pout when I came up -


- with a walk in closet for bed bug infested motel rooms provoking such an action. Perhaps I had no choice, putting a bullet -


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