Realistic or Modern 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐦 ;; the members.

miyabi · Sep 29, 2021

Full Name:
Nickname: (if applicable)
Role:
Age: 18+
Gender:
Sexuality:
Ethnicity:
Nationality:
Major:
Year:

Appearance:
FACE CLAIM: this has to be a REAL picture, not art.

Personality: (AT LEAST one paragraph.)
Likes: option
Dislikes: optional
Fears: THIS WILL BE USED IN THE RP.
you can add whatever else you'd like to the cs.

**BACKGROUND -**
History:
Extra.

miyabi · Sep 29, 2021

the president.

scroll

CASSIE

Cassie

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

KIM Hye Won 'Cassie'

02.

age

22 years old.

03.

sexuality

demisexual panromantic; cis-female

04.

Ethnicity

Korean American

05.

Year and Major

Forensic Anthropology; Year three.

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House of Leaves

“Scars are the paler pain of survival received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury."
visage

height

5'6"/167.64cm

weight

126 lbs/58kg

hair colour

naturally dark brown, almost black, with red dye on the bottom layer.

eyes

dark brown, monolidded, and round with dark, straight lashes holding a curl. dark circles under the eyes.

title

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persona

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Sed ut tempor libero. Morbi vel felis et libero consequat vulputate sit amet vel elit. Suspendisse at porta mi, vitae venenatis mauris. Curabitur id maximus nibh, sed fringilla mauris. Aliquam efficitur finibus diam. Nam pharetra ac turpis ut ornare. Curabitur sed tellus ut nisi dictum cursus eu at nisl. Praesent eleifend nunc erat, at ornare sem accumsan et. Integer in massa rutrum, placerat quam vel, ultrices dolor. Maecenas et risus pellentesque, pulvinar enim nec, consequat tellus. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Vivamus ullamcorper massa ac sodales ultricies. In pellentesque vestibulum tristique.

virtues

hehe

hehe

vices

hehe

hehe

whatever

hehe

hehe
history

A Love That Shouldn't Have.

In sickness and in health. That’s how it was supposed to go, right? To love unconditionally, stay by each other’s side no matter the circumstance; a promise to each other, with no doubts. Love was supposed to be that way: marriage, specifically. However, that hadn’t been the case for Cassie’s parents; while their love for her continued, undying, their love for each other diminished--shattered bit by bit, pieces lost in a wave of resentment. Cassie, herself, had fallen witness to it: the gradual downfall of a relationship doomed from the very beginning.

Most would say they weren't made for each other, two people who forced the hand of love but couldn't quite make the cut; and to have a child, one that became the glue of their relationship had seemed a selfish endeavor.

Born on Friday the 13th (if one could believe that fact), surrounded by the faces of strangers, Cassie had already become the bearer of her parents' burdens. While they wept, stroked the face of a baby astonishingly quiet, an argument was on the horizon. They never could get along, even with Cassie supposedly being the solution to their problems; these problems ran deep into the veins of rage, selfishness, and jealousy. It was an explosive relationship that neither needed, but forced themselves to want, days went on in scrutiny.

She was cherished, however. Polaroids covered pages of scrapbooks, newfound memories and smiles—genuine ones; short moments where the resentment was set aside.

Doesn't it get lonely?

A quieter child, one who never was never quite capable of keeping a dear friend; dwindled expectations, a reckoning, Cassie learned quickly. That the less people need you, the less they will speak to you—there were always catches in life, ones whose terms were the manifestation of childish, self-serving ideas left under the guise of suggestions, false statements, and temporary playmates. Kindergarten all the way up to middle school, she found herself sitting at barren seats—with the exception of Eddie, a true friend that—despite her off-putting exterior—stuck by her, as if he had a choice.

Several parent-teacher conferences, most of which were met with mouths agape; Cassie had done something yet again, and again, and again. Trouble always found her, as did loneliness. Children shouldn't have to bear witness to the feeling of being set aside, though she always did find herself in the arms of rejection and seclusion—a young girl who, even from a young age, understood the feeling of emptiness before the word nestled its way into her vocabulary.

More often than not, Cassie didn't mind it. The lesser people were interested in you, the lesser people would be cruel; harsh words could be avoided as long as you didn't pay any mind. And the best of friends were the ones imaginary.

Highschool wasn't much different, aside from a young woman that decided to finally use her voice; she wanted to be heard, needed to be, and she was. Her teen years were wilder, a girl who sought comfort in holding her tongue became a girl who kept true to the music that ran wildly in her heart, the thoughts that painted the walls of her mind; ruminations drenched in gasoline, awaiting a match to go ablaze. She never could get over the unnerving feeling that her childhood imaginary friend wasn't a friend at all.

MEMENTO MORI.

A brush with death—moreso, several. Cassie hadn’t been fortunate enough to continue on with life unscathed; in fact, she’d even considered herself bad luck, things gone awry left and right, with little hope or inkling that maybe, just maybe, things would begin to look up. Contrarily, it had only gone downhill; her mother wasn’t as fortunate as her; a good woman gone too soon—whose fault was in the hands of a stranger.

Death was inevitable, Cassie knew that for a fact, wiping away the tears from her mother’s face; feeling the breath against her skin; a hushed voice to lul the woman to comfort. This death, however, was never of the natural cause her mother wished to die from; to lay peacefully in a hospital bed surrounded by family was a wish she was never granted—instead replaced by concrete and rain. So she sat, caressing, crying, calling out for help—had she been louder, maybe then would she have not witnessed the shudder of succumbing to the void of lifelessness.

Who else was she going to lose before she was ready? Would she ever be ready? The thought was a bitter taste, but the truth was seldom sweet. Death was painful, terrifying, never a thought that led to comfort.

Open caskets, tears stinging—her vision was always blurred; eyes burning, cheeks puffy. Having to lower the embodiment of joy was cruel, but never a memory forgotten. To live then was a matter of time and timing. Cassie learned from this, that the bitter taste of death was always at one’s doorstep, no matter how hidden it was. For months, however, Cassie filled her arms with books, pages upon pages, from coloring to literature—crayons lay across formerly barren sheets of paper, anything to distract her from remembrance.

But remembrance was vital.

She remembers the face of the stranger, whose bright blue eyes showed little remorse—wide-eyed and emotionless; sharp features were lined with shadows and freckles; thick, unruly brows and a scar between them. She remembers the warmth in his fingertips as he threw Cassie aside, a young girl who had the world ahead of her—only to watch it burn. She remembers the smell of sweet cologne, how he'd taken the time to smell nice and look proper just to kill; she remembers. But in questioning, with the intentional remembrance, he is a blur; a faceless being that loomed in the darkness of every corner.

His voice, however, would remain imprinted no matter the circumstance: "I will kill you next." Something to that extent—no, it was an exact phrase, one that stuck and drew fear into her stomach, doing tumbles.

Memory is a choice—at least, that's what her mother would say when tracing fingers against pine-needles, memorizing its texture and scent; Cassie did the same with the grooves of book spines and cigarettes. She never agreed. If memory had been a choice, Cassie would have chosen to forget that man's voice, how he mercilessly murdered her mother on their way back from the market, the feeling of warm red liquid soaking into her newly purchased Levis.

I am only revolutions of ruin.

Living her father wasn't easy, in his grief, the murder following the divorce, he was no longer the man she once knew. A man whose smile lit up the room the very second he stepped foot became a man whose eyes shared anguish. The thin lines under them were further indicative of his guilt, he blamed himself more than anyone—Cassie blamed herself; the two often found themselves awake at three in the morning, crying over their cups of hot chocolate that had gone cold. WIP

it's in your bones.

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extra
Strange End

The Velvet Doors
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

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name here

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misc.

title

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♡coded by uxie♡

E q u i n o x · Sep 29, 2021

TW; bio mentions soft drug use and depression.

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Chase your stars, sweet thing. Life is too short for doubts.
Desmond King
enter
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Look At Me Now
Sun Heat
0:00
3:01
vitals
Desmond King.
Dez, Dezzy.
22 years old.
GNC Man (He/Him).
Bisexual (masculine leaning).
May 1st.
New Orleans, Louisiana.
Angelwood University.
The Videographer.
3rd Year - Cinematography/Videography.
visage
height
5'9"
weight
150 lbs
hair

Desmond sports a crown of tightly coiled locks that are naturally a deep black, but he frequently dyes them for a bit of flair. Currently, his hair is a toasty honey blond. More often than not it’s kept short in an undercut-type style with the sides and back of the head shaved close to the skull.

eyes

Almond-shaped and dark as a chunk of finely polished obsidian.

physique

Lean, wiry and below average height for an American male. Desmond possesses a less than imposing form, but his confident actions and cocksure attitude are unquestionably enough to make up for what he lacks in size. The man has a certain swagger, love him or hate him.

style

It’s difficult to pin down Desmond’s style. One day he might walk into class wearing a turtleneck and chinos; the next something trendy, artsy, casual or utterly bizarre. Desmond is of the opinion he can make anything look good; an “it was hideous so naturally I had to have it” type. In general, he seems to enjoy seeing how far he can push the university’s dress code.

modifications

A pierced septum, belly button and along the ridge of both helixies and lobes. He’s a fan of industrial bars, circular barbells, studs and all things showy and dangly.

face claim

Isaiah Angelo Browne.

likes

- Cities
- Fashion
- Gaming
- Partying
- Scary Movies
- Van Lifestyle
- Ghost Hunting
- Birds & Reptiles
- Photography & Film
- Fog/Mist

dislikes

- Dogs
- Bugs
- Killjoys
- Deadlines
- Hangovers
- Republicans
- Country Music
- Authoritative Types
- Loose/Oversized Clothing
- Needing To Repeat Himself
- Demons. "Y'all fuckers can stay out of my house, thank you."

hobbies

- Herping
- Bird Watching
- Photography
- Urban Exploration
- Singing & Dancing
- Drawing & Writing
- Vlogging / Video-making
- Watching Documentaries
- Arguing With Conservatives

habits

- Twirling Hair
- Eyerolling
- Humming
- Winking
- Crossing Legs
- Doodles absently when bored
- “Tsk”

ailments

None. So far... Unless you count that spicy childhood trauma, but we don't talk about that!

fears

- Canines
- Drowning
- Insects & Spiders
- Imperfection
- Being Possessed
- Feeling Trapped/Helpless
- Being Forgotten/Ignored

Desmond is what one might expect of a typical wild college student; the party all-nighter, the junk food eater, the reckless procrastinator, the guy who always seems to have a hint of the cloying scent of flavored vapes on his breath or the stronger smoky aroma of marijuana clinging to his hair and skin.

He doesn’t seem to mind all that much if these are the only things people notice about him, either. It allows him to be underestimated, to creep through the cracks. Desmond enjoys nothing more than the opportunity to prove he’s more than just a pretty face and a fun time. Beneath the party boy persona is someone quite complex, as most people are.

Quick as a whip and someone who can adapt practically on the spot to an unforeseen occurrence, Desmond is confident and poised. His stride is always self-assured, and that whitetoothed grin has charmed professors and other students alike to view him as either a harmless scamp or an absolute prick. There always seems to be a witty comment on the tip of his tongue and the man is vexingly difficult to rattle.

Desmond’s first choice is typically to try and make nice with everyone he meets, a social butterfly who thrives from the attention he gives and receives from others unless they’re an absolute ass, in which case, he’ll be sure to be that person’s living hell at any given opportunity. Truly the bane of one's existence. It’s a hobby, really.

His friendly disposition and tendency to be physically affectionate with those around him tends to come across as flirty, and the fact he doesn’t shy away from teasing or dirty jokes likely doesn’t do him any favors in the matter.

Rarely seen without a camera in hand, Desmond seems keen on documenting every aspect of his life and even maintains his own YouTube channel which has a fairly decent following even after the end of his infamous supernatural exploration documentary series titled "Too Cool For Ghouls".

mind
mythos
childhood
Most of Desmond’s youth was a poverty stricken existence; living along the coast of the Mississippi River, but he and his family certainly made due and he wouldn’t consider this time of his life any less cherished. In fact, part of him still longs for those simpler times crabbing with his father and brothers or helping his mother with the housework.

He was the youngest of six siblings, three older brothers and two sisters, and undoubtedly the most exuberant of the whole bunch, running out before dawn’s light even touched the sky or staying out far later than the rest to enjoy the night. Desmond's love of birds and reptiles started early, constantly out and about in search of lizards, snakes or turtles; bringing home every injured bird and climbing trees to return downed hatchlings to their nests.

By the time he was ten Desmond found himself in the foster care system, his mother unable to make ends meet and falling into deep depression that required hospitalization after his father vanished mysteriously while out fishing on the river. Desmond is staunch in the belief something happened, that he must have fallen in and drowned, as his father would've never willingly abandoned the family.

It was around this time he started to consider the possibility of supernatural forces existing in the world, as the night before his father left there was an eerie ambiance in the air and a thick fog covering the water's surface, yet Desmond swore he could see figures dancing atop the water.

teenage years

Between 10-13 he was shifted between homes quite frequently before finally settling into a more permanent residence, and he couldn’t say he had many fond memories of the former. He ended up with a nice middle-aged couple who had no children of their own and offered their home up to him and two other kids. It was a far more comfortable home than he’d known in a long time. He had his own room, went to a fairly nice public school, and experienced life in the suburbs...which he found exceptionally boring.

There was one plus to still living so close to New Orlens, however. He could visit the city every weekend, and the place was absolutely loaded with haunted places. He took to exploring them with friends or his foster siblings, adamant to prove that “ghosts are real!” He began filming their little adventures as young as 15 on his phone, and impressed with his showmanship, his foster mothers bought Desmond his first camera for his 16th birthday. It wasn’t long after this Desmond discovered he had a passion for film and videography in general and began pursuing it, joining his high school’s film club.

By 18 he’d made a name for himself on YouTude through a program he called “Too Cool For Ghouls”, in which he, his foster brother Jerome and their friend Monica explored everything from creepy, abandoned buildings to the most common tourist attractions. Anywhere proposed to be haunted by spirits or crawling with demons. Desmond was always quick to prescribe something to ghostly activity while Jerome proved more skeptical and Monica was somewhat on the fence.

The show took a hiatus when they entered their senior year, and Desmond settled on a gap year for college despite getting into two right off the bat as the final years of high school had been particularly taxing between the stress of all that studying, maintaining decent grads, and acknowledging once he turned 18 his foster parents were no longer responsible for him and he’d have to carve out his own path in the world.

The day after graduation he thanked them for all their love and support before reuniting with his biological mother, with her eagerly saying she could stay with him for as long as he liked.

present

During the year-long break between graduation and attending a university Desmond picked Too Cool For Ghouls back up solo, keeping the title despite now lacking the skepticism of Jerome and Monica, both of whom he still kept in touch with, but who proved far too busy with their own lives to participate any longer and had, perhaps, “grown out of it”, as they’d put.

It was here Desmond encountered what he claims to have been a malignant entity within the basement of a long abandoned and decrepit hospital. Whatever he encountered that day, he never aired the episode and the Too Cool For Ghouls blog officially ended with him making a brand new channel dedicated mostly to vlogging his everyday life and experiences as well as reviewing clothes and cosmetic products.

He bought an old navy blue and white VW Bus by the time he was 19 and travelled across the country for a year before settling on Angelwood University, much to the relief of both his mother and foster parents who were clearly worried about his lack of commitment. Though he was offered a dorm, Desmond continues to live in his van which has been modified to live in.

gallery
Ethnicity: Creole.

Nationality: African-American.

Pets: If it were up to Desmond he would have every reptile and bird under the sun, but as is he currently keeps a blizzard morph corn snake named Spector who he's had for the past five years, and, more recently, a young common grackle he calls Hex. He found her out on the sidewalk, seemingly far from her nest of origin and injured, likely carried off and dropped by a predator. He nursed her back to health, raised her up and set her loose again, but she's chosen to remain his loyal companion.

Other
- His fear of canines stems mostly from the fact he's had few positive experiences with dogs.
- Desmond now refuses to step foot anywhere said to be the residence of a demonic force.
- He joined the club initially for the credits and sub-consciously he misses his adventures.

additional info

coded by natasha.

aeneas. · Sep 29, 2021

the clown.

scroll

jude

01.

full name

jude montgomery

02.

age

22 years old

03.

sexuality

demisexual biromantic ; nonbinary

04.

major

english & philosophy

05.

year

3rd year

06.

birthday

august 15 (leo)

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how humorous.

adjective
causing lighthearted laughter and amusement; comic.
visage

height

5'10"

weight

134 lbs.

eyes

greyish blue. giving constant sultry eyes, in reality they just really need a new glasses prescription.

hair

messy platinum blonde hair cut into a mullet that goes no further than their shoulders. is it dyed? if it is, they redo it before their roots are shown. do they cut their own hair? definitely.

ethnicity & nationality

caucasian, american born and raised. comes from new orleans and has a sweet southern drawl.

physique

ectomorph. all skin and bones, decorated with freckles, and conveniently covered by the voluminous amount of layers they wear. it's more than apparent that jude isn't much of a sports person, only ever exercising when they get the reminder on their time management app.

style

funny thrifted clothing is always their vibe. they dress like a somehow fashionable version of someone's uncle, sporting colorful sweaters worn by dead people in the 70s, baggy movie poster t-shirts, and patterned trousers. they're not afraid to wear things most people are hesitant to (will wear crocs with socks just because), simply due to their ability to somehow pull anything off.

modifications

jude has got a sick tattoo of a wizard frog on their right thigh. they sometimes wear shorts just to show it off.

misc.

has a dent on their left leg from where it made impact with the auditorium's staircase down the stage when they tripped and fell after a production of little women. also look at their sweet tooth gap between their front teeth, they find it cute.
persona

A spontaneous shitposter with the humor of middle schooler is the best way to describe Jude Montgomery. With the entire English language to reference, they find cusses and crudeness as the best means of verbally expressing their thoughts. Definitely more than a tad bit vulgar with their words, much different from the eloquence they somehow manage to produce in their papers and projects. The constant references to one's mother and childish tricks that lead to "sucking these nuts" are natural occurrences when speaking to Jude and it cracks them up into hyena-like laughter every time. It's never intended to be rude, more so an attempt to maintain interest in conversations; it's easy for them to lose desire or just completely lose focus due to lack of cognitive stimulation. When they start spouting complete nonsense like a twelve year old I-pad kid playing Fortnite, it should be a warning that they're beginning to tune your words out.

Despite the vulgarity of their speech, they are very sociable. Jude has gone up to people before lectures and would abruptly start a long winded conversation with them about an episode of Spongebob they watched the other day. Although many have claimed that they give a presence as if they are beyond your league, with their care-free attitude making them seem too cool for the world around them despite their considerably dorky interests. Which isn't necessarily untrue, it takes very regular conversations or a peculiar interest in a person to really make Jude remember names, almost entirely knowing people by face and providing descriptive nicknames in substitute for their *actual* names. Your name is no longer Sarah, it's now, "Malibu Barbie mixed with Kesha after she vomited glitter" or, glitter mouth for short.

Jude isn't necessarily a believer in the paranormal, but they've had their had fair share of weird happenings (they have an entire Instagram highlight that tells the tale of them interacting with their ghost roomie, Casper through the stupid dog filter on Snapchat) They're an open minded person, willing to believe in anything within good reason— heck, even if it's just a story told from an acid trip, Jude would at least find a possibility. Though don't expect them to take it seriously, even if they do believe you. It's mostly them just making fun and poking jokes into it, if it's real then it's worth a couple of humorous jabs to make all that occult mumbo jumbo feel palatable to regular people. Jude doesn't enjoy the seriousness that belief brings, it gets monotonous and weird; they'd much rather laugh about devil worship and summoning circles like a skeptic than be paranoid like a fanatic.

They don't understand the concept of personal space once they've considered you as their friend. Having been touch-starved as a kid, they find contentment even in the simple act of premarital hand holding. More often than not they subconsciously toy with people's hair or have an arm around them as they recount the time they snorted flour for shits and giggles. Jude has a way with getting up in people's face, a bit of a jester who likes to fool around and play games. If you're a spoilsport, chances are Jude is going to latch onto you like a parasite, determined to bring out the fun side of people. They always love a good challenge and like all extroverts, has a strange polar attraction to those who are almost nothing like them whatsoever. They're a fun-loving spirit who likes to make your mom jokes, play flirt, fluster their friends, and repeat. Maybe they don't know when to stop and can be seen a little impulsive and dismissive of serious confrontation, but can you blame them? Who would want to deal with any of that?

likes

horror films

wii games

food shaped like things

grape flavored candy (a controversial take, i know)

works of shakespeare

dislikes

tea

really big parties (but they'll still go)

analog clocks (cant tell time)

restrictions

reality tv shows

fears

insects (especially ones that can fly)

hospitals / any medical facility

entrapment

big mirrors (mainly at night)

being unheard
history

crying of cicadas

It was probably against some doctor law that a parent shouldn't be facilitating the birth of their own child. But then again, Louisiana treasured the minds of Dr. Richmond and Ebony Montgomery so they were often given a blind eye to things that can be considered as minorly immoral or unethical. Besides, ethics such as so were placed in order to avoid emotional deliveries and the Montgomerys show their feelings sparingly.

Born on a rainy day of August in a cushy hospital room that no regular New Orleans resident could ever afford, Jude's first moment of human contact with another was her father, who had been the one to deliver them. The shrill cries of young Jude rang through out the room, being a subsequent cause to Richmond handing them off to a nurse for cleaning. It was clinical, like clockwork. The birth of one's child is often described to be a symphony of emotions, pain, desperation, hope, determination, until the crescendo where everything melts into happiness as the parents would cradle their child in their arms.

If asked, the Montgomerys would describe the day to be like any other operation they've done times before. Perhaps on a good day Ebony would describe the pain she had felt and relief when it was over. There was a time Richmond and Ebony had loved each other, in their own peculiar way, they still did. However profession and ambition had always been the utmost priority for the two. The idea to have a child was less for the appeal of growing a family, rather gain insurance for the future. Richmond had proposed the prospects of a child the day he saw a single gray hair in the mass of blonde hair his wife had.

Ebony had barely took another day to recover from delivery when she decided that she desired to go back to their home, from there on Jude would be cared for by nannies and tutors; only ever seeing their parents occasionally during dinner.

buzzing of flies

Jude's academic performance caught the attention of their parents when they were nine. What would be considered to be pompous parenting, painting their child to be brilliant and special, it was no hyperbole. After attending the teacher - parent conference of their child with the teacher recommending an acceleration, pulling Jude out of school and into private tutorship was immediate.

A child prodigy.

The thought alone sparked a liveliness out of Jude's parents to which they have never seen before. Insurance had been the main driving point of the Montgomerys to produce a child yet the hope of a legacy set a passion ablaze. It became all they ever talked about to their colleagues, bragging about Jude's efficiency from college-grade maths to human anatomy at every dinner party they attended.

Having the attention of their parents after the beginning years of their upbringing being plagued with half-attempts of small talk and having more communication between their photo frames than them in person, Jude was ecstatic. The Montgomerys lived in the upper-class part of Louisiana, in a big house with high ceilings and baroque-esc interior design and since Jude was pulled out of school, they've been confined to their home like a prisoner. Only ever seeing people other than their parents, tutors, and staff when their parents invited colleagues over to speak with young Jude.

Conversations with Jude was as expected when speaking to a child, they would go on about their imaginary friends and play make believe while they answered calculus to appease their parents. They didn't entirely understand why they couldn't play with their old classmates anymore nor why they wouldn't have to get ready to be driven to school. It was like a boring summer vacation except it happened when it was normally school season and instead of going on trips, Jude would be around their tutor of the day and learn things from them. Normally they would complain, in the Spongebob diary they kept, they would. However, by doing good in these one-on-one assessments with the tutors, would earn a small applause from their parents and Jude craved that.

Although Jude knew barely anything about their parents, by the age of twelve they agreed in an instant on the offer of visiting their work place. A hospital. They understood the roles doctors played in a hospital. They were tasked to make people feel better and to take care of them. And they knew that both of their parents needed to take care of people for a living and that they were one of the bests around. What they didn't know was how real a hospital feels like. With staff rushing around, the sterile smell to everything, stashes of blood, and coolers of organs.

It was nauseating.

Having to watch their mother perform an kidney transplant from the viewing room with their father induced them with so much panic that they couldn't even think. Head buzzing with static as they attempted to avert their eyes by pressing their face against their father's well-tailored suit. To which he forcefully gripped them by the cheeks and asserted their direction back into the wide windows. The words of their father were engraved into their skull,

"Look forward with pride, Jude. For this is your future."

swarms of moths

Medical school and a sixteen year old was never a good mix. Especially when the sixteen year old in question wanted nothing to do with it. On tabloid news and newspapers, Jude Montgomery was the pride of New Orleans, a sixteen year old prodigy finally on their first year of medical school but in the school, they were a menace. A gender non-conforming teenager in a clinical environment with conservative professors, a recipe for disaster.

More times than not did they get kicked out of lectures due to their unruly behavior and inappropriate attitude. But can you blame them? When they weren't being tutored, they consumed a lot of internet culture. It was their basis of making friends instead of having to hang out with old tired med students all day. Fanfiction and odd tumblr accounts were their scene, finding it all to be way more interesting than boring anatomy.

They remained in school the best they could for the sake of their parents approval which they still would seek despite their angsty teenage phase. Jude had attended a medical school within New Orleans and still frequented their visits to their parents' place when they were in the mood to leave campus (which was more often than not) .

It was during the internship portion did Jude finally break.

They couldn't stand to go back into a hospital, which had lead to them having to be ushered back to their dorm after having a complete spiral. It was no surprise that they dropped out soon after. There was an immense amount of shame when Jude had to return home, their parents couldn't look them in the eyes when they returned to their doorstep with all their luggage that they had once packed for college.

It took Jude's eighteenth birthday to decide that they wanted to go back to college, although a much different course from what was initially planned for them. Ebony and Richmond allowed it, perhaps tired of them becoming a hermit in their room. As long as they enrolled in a college far away from them, which Jude was more than happy to do.

remains of butterflies

Angelwood university was everything Jude needed to really feel at home with themselves. It was like watching a kid in a candy store, loving the thrill of being in a new place and actually studying nonsense that they enjoy. Double majoring in English and philosophy, basically courses as far away from anything their parents would approve (call it their rebellious streak acting up paired with genuine interest).

Before the occult club, Jude had been a part of the a theatre group to which they like to think that they were dismissed from the group because of "creative differences". However if you ask anyone else in the group, Jude never took any of the productions that seriously, always finding a way to make a comedic spectacle out of an artistic production. They didn't think much of the occult club upon discovering it, at first assuming that it was satire. They dropped by one day simply out of curiosity and they just found themselves always coming back. Jude had to admit, it was very interesting stuff and the people in the club seemed like they needed a laugh every once or a while.

And Jude Montgomery is always willing to lend a hand in that area.
extra
people i don't like

upsahl
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

tbd

...

tbd

...

misc.

extra

is a richie tozier kinnie for sure, they had a deep connection to his character after watching the IT franchise.

♡coded by uxie♡

mother of sorrows · Sep 29, 2021

lovro.

scroll

the

student

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

lovro marcel abital

02.

age

23

03.

sexuality

straight... apparently

04.

major

theology, philosophy

05.

year

third

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.
.
.
.

agnus dei.

somewhere, some place inside myself, i am detached. i have always been. always.
visage

height

info

weight

info

hair colour

info

eye colour

info

title

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persona

Lovro is a man that tries to find the presence of God in everything, from the cracks in the walls to whispers exchanged inbetween classes where nobody can see.

Collected, organized and put together both physically and emotionally, Lovro has spent his entire life cutting away parts of himself that are too much. Not too overarching goals, not too much greed. Not too much want or lust or hate. Anything that is too human is to be destroyed, or at least supressed till he thinks he can pretend it is not there. It is not easy, but nothing ever is and Lovro is not afraid of taking up tasks that will prove a burden. His upbringing gave him an appreciation for hard work and little complaining and for the most part, doing as he preaches.

He is palatable to the masses, a person that both is polite and terribly uninteresting at the same time.

It is only around those he is comfortable with that he awakes a little, not afraid of being hated for being flawed.

A slight cocky tilt of the head, a self-safisfied smile whenever he is proved right, the bullet-fast banter he exchanges with friends and enemies alike - they show a very different picture than the one Lovro paints. Highly intelligent and more aware of it than is acceptable, he has snarky replies and dry wit to spare; and far it be from him to be selfish and not share it. Long suffering stares, laughter in near tears and sarcastic comments are the much more personal interactions, ones that flash rarely with strangers - but are very much a part of who he is, no matter how much he'd like to stomp even that out.

It is ironic, really. That for a God-fearing man, he is of easy heart and wandering gaze - it is not love what he finds in others, no, but it is the closest he gets. There is a nagging, whispering fear in his brain, small but always there, that his worldview would not be able to handle it if he did truly fall in love. And so he avoids it as he avoids anything human, leaving behind only bitter longing and guilt he is so intimate with.

virtues

brave

smart

vices

self hating

cold

whatever

hehe

hehe
history

birth

Lovro was born on a snowy, freezing Washington winter and from the second the nurses washed the slick and blood off him to hand to his exhausted mother, they knew that there was not much meant for him in life.

He had died on his way out of the womb and then lived again, though only nearly. He was slow to revive, slow to breathe, slow to cry with all the discomfort of a new soul entering the unknown world - hospital workers are not one with hope to spare and especially not for weak, sickly children like he was. Death was spelled in his cloudy gaze, even as the nurses tried their absolute best.

Only a doctor on duty, a man nearing sixty who has taken many a child, cleaned the blood off their faces and made a judgement - 'this one will live.' 'this one will die.' - took Lovro into his hands. He watched the poor boy as he screamed for air, pale and squirming in his hands; before saying.

'This one will live depending on his will.'

childhood

Mary and Gilen Abital were not terrible people nor were they bad Christians, but they certainly were not good parents.

It is not their fault their son was born with a hole in his heart, despite the judgement one might cast on them. A small hole it is, but just big enough to be deady if things go terrible - and we all know that things will go terrible. Mary and Gilen knew that better than anybody, with their closed circle and unhealthy fear of the outside. Darkness, unholy darkness lurks outside and they are sheep, not meant to stray further from their shepherd and the word of God.

The visits to cynical cardiovascular experts and the medicine packed into his drinks helped, but human will can do so much. Doctors shook their heads and men of the cloth said that only God can help him now, but still Lovro lived - he could not run as much, or watch horror movies or stay in the sun for too long, but he was alive. There was some optimism as he grew; his doctors deduced that intense bursts of emotion would be troublesome, but he could go on to live a good (if sheltered) life. It was not much, but it was more than the couple had expected.

The odds were very much stacked against the young parents, but they were double so for Lovro.

He read the scriptures. He studied the Bible. He knelt on cold stone floors, praying for forgiveness over sins he barely understood in his childish mind.

Any deviance was punished - swiftly.

the first stirrings

Quietly, politely, out of sight, he grew and he grew bright.

Into a boy of about thirteen with a sharp smile and sharper tongue, arguing with his teachers when he thought them wrong and then even more with his friends when he thought them idiotic. Any child will think their own words are more important than that of others, but that was particularily true for Lovro. Intellect was all he had, born out of sunny days spent with his nose in dusty books to pass the time. Passion was out of the question and so was anything that could kickstart his already poor heart, and Lovro's demanding want to be the smartest in any given room grew ever bigger.

He talked loudly at Sunday school, during the not Sunday school, when his teachers marched him into the principal's office for said loud talking - and even when his parents dragged him home, horrified at their son's steadily worsening daredevil.

They had raised him to be mild, in a clean neutrality that is gentle in its boredom; it was not such a terrible thing, no, but is it very much like prison to a child who is denied to know anything else.

He did not question his parents teachings of demons and darkness, of things lurking just beyond your eyesight if you dare focus on it too long - his parents certainly did not - and of the terrors that humans were not meant to know. No, Lovro's belief did not waver; it only sprung on a greater knowledge to understand the incomprehensible.

He has yet to find out how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, though not for a lack of trying.

now

He is not the boy stricken with first bursts of rebellion any longer.

There is no 'but' to that sentence.

The sharp smile and sharp tongue remain, but he is older now and he has cut himself too short. You get tired, really, as you shed the wings of youth and enter a world that is nothing like you had imagined. Perhaps one would argue he has grown complacent, doing exactly as he is expected to do - but Lovro certainly has nothing to complain about. If he lingers too close to another person for a second longer and wishes for something that would damn his soul to the endless hellfire, well.

Lovro has always been good at erasing any traces of passion, of stiffling down what will no doubt burn him alive. Loneliness is not as bad as people say it is, especially when it has been your companion for so long.

Just one thing remained, the one love that he simply can't leave at the altar - the occult, the secrets. The barely there whispers of the beyond. It consumes him from inside out; walks with him to every class and shares his bed at night, watches him back from every mirror.

It is profoundly stupid to fall so in love with something that could prove to be your death. But after all, Lovro doesn't want to be the most clever anymore.
extra
bambi

saay (orig. baekhyun)
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

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name here

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misc.

extra

Has a physical abnormality since birth; very intense or high stress situations can prove problematic or fatal. Why this dumb heaux joined an occult group is beyond me.

♡coded by uxie♡

.empathogen. · Sep 29, 2021

Lucky Dean

the medium

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.
.
.

i
ii
iii
iv
full name
Lucifer August Kelly-Dean
nicknames
Lucky, Batshit Dude(Younger Townsfolk), The Troubled One(Older Townsfolk)
age
Twenty-Nine
date of birth
June 6th
gender
Cis Male
sexuality
Bisexual
ethnicity
Caucasian(Irish)
occupation
Bartender/Medium
i
ii
iii
iv
height & weight
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hair
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eyes
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physique
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style
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modifications
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face claim
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very cruel
polica
i
ii
iii
iv
likes
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dislikes
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misc info
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personality
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In condimentum, mauris id blandit lobortis, tortor magna facilisis erat, id porttitor nulla lectus in lacus. Nullam ligula eros, ullamcorper eu neque non, dapibus mollis augue. Phasellus molestie malesuada sollicitudin. Fusce odio ante, laoreet in finibus et, fermentum sed ante. Duis a faucibus enim. Donec pharetra vitae lorem accumsan ultrices. Curabitur id venenatis dui. Quisque sit amet laoreet enim, facilisis faucibus metus. Sed diam tellus, accumsan eget ultricies in, laoreet vitae massa. Aenean bibendum, nisl nec tristique venenatis, libero sem malesuada diam, nec tempus metus mi a mauris. Cras ornare blandit lacus, et elementum arcu rutrum id. Etiam vel ultrices neque, sed rutrum lorem. Vestibulum et libero massa. Quisque ut enim nec neque eleifend molestie. Praesent feugiat interdum pretium. Aliquam turpis ex, tristique in mollis ut, lobortis ultrices enim.

Sed fermentum, ipsum a porta malesuada, enim ante eleifend tellus, quis pulvinar lectus nisi nec dui. Morbi vulputate mollis est sed ultricies. Nulla fermentum nibh nulla, ut posuere eros semper sit amet. Proin convallis, tellus eu dignissim feugiat, enim tellus sodales tortor, eu feugiat nibh enim id erat. Phasellus et ligula vel arcu efficitur interdum ac nec erat. Nam quis luctus urna. Ut quis bibendum ipsum. Nam ex justo, tristique non cursus non, pulvinar eu ligula. Aenean semper odio magna, sit amet molestie ante imperdiet in. Nullam gravida erat vel est faucibus aliquet. Donec ut hendrerit ex. Sed vel aliquet enim. Duis egestas lobortis iaculis.
i
ii
iii
iv
childhood
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In condimentum, mauris id blandit lobortis, tortor magna facilisis erat, id porttitor nulla lectus in lacus. Nullam ligula eros, ullamcorper eu neque non, dapibus mollis augue. Phasellus molestie malesuada sollicitudin. Fusce odio ante, laoreet in finibus et, fermentum sed ante. Duis a faucibus enim. Donec pharetra vitae lorem accumsan ultrices. Curabitur id venenatis dui. Quisque sit amet laoreet enim, facilisis faucibus metus. Sed diam tellus, accumsan eget ultricies in, laoreet vitae massa. Aenean bibendum, nisl nec tristique venenatis, libero sem malesuada diam, nec tempus metus mi a mauris. Cras ornare blandit lacus, et elementum arcu rutrum id. Etiam vel ultrices neque, sed rutrum lorem. Vestibulum et libero massa. Quisque ut enim nec neque eleifend molestie. Praesent feugiat interdum pretium. Aliquam turpis ex, tristique in mollis ut, lobortis ultrices enim.

teenage years
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In condimentum, mauris id blandit lobortis, tortor magna facilisis erat, id porttitor nulla lectus in lacus. Nullam ligula eros, ullamcorper eu neque non, dapibus mollis augue. Phasellus molestie malesuada sollicitudin. Fusce odio ante, laoreet in finibus et, fermentum sed ante. Duis a faucibus enim. Donec pharetra vitae lorem accumsan ultrices. Curabitur id venenatis dui. Quisque sit amet laoreet enim, facilisis faucibus metus. Sed diam tellus, accumsan eget ultricies in, laoreet vitae massa. Aenean bibendum, nisl nec tristique venenatis, libero sem malesuada diam, nec tempus metus mi a mauris. Cras ornare blandit lacus, et elementum arcu rutrum id. Etiam vel ultrices neque, sed rutrum lorem. Vestibulum et libero massa. Quisque ut enim nec neque eleifend molestie. Praesent feugiat interdum pretium. Aliquam turpis ex, tristique in mollis ut, lobortis ultrices enim.

entering adulthood
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nullam imperdiet, ipsum nec rutrum luctus, metus est euismod justo, elementum mollis turpis ipsum ac diam. Nunc ac gravida dolor, non feugiat nunc. Morbi pellentesque et lorem ac sollicitudin. Curabitur euismod vehicula urna ut eleifend. Nunc feugiat accumsan blandit. Phasellus consectetur tortor quis neque maximus dapibus. Nunc aliquam volutpat risus eget tempus. Etiam placerat et odio et consequat. Pellentesque et urna ut quam dignissim dictum. Maecenas ultricies, felis eu iaculis tincidunt, odio lorem interdum neque, ut convallis urna velit a lacus. Proin consectetur eros est, sed pulvinar risus lacinia in.

In condimentum, mauris id blandit lobortis, tortor magna facilisis erat, id porttitor nulla lectus in lacus. Nullam ligula eros, ullamcorper eu neque non, dapibus mollis augue. Phasellus molestie malesuada sollicitudin. Fusce odio ante, laoreet in finibus et, fermentum sed ante. Duis a faucibus enim. Donec pharetra vitae lorem accumsan ultrices. Curabitur id venenatis dui. Quisque sit amet laoreet enim, facilisis faucibus metus. Sed diam tellus, accumsan eget ultricies in, laoreet vitae massa. Aenean bibendum, nisl nec tristique venenatis, libero sem malesuada diam, nec tempus metus mi a mauris. Cras ornare blandit lacus, et elementum arcu rutrum id. Etiam vel ultrices neque, sed rutrum lorem. Vestibulum et libero massa. Quisque ut enim nec neque eleifend molestie. Praesent feugiat interdum pretium. Aliquam turpis ex, tristique in mollis ut, lobortis ultrices enim.

coded by natasha.

Saia · Sep 29, 2021

.
.
.
.

04
03
02
general
sumia
Full Name
Sumia Daigo
nicknames
Sue, Chu
age
20
gender
female
sexuality
The Solar God
ethnicity
Japanese
the hysteric ヒステリック
major.
Student of Music in Performance, majoring in Flute.

year.
2nd year
04
03
visage
01
sumia
ht
160 cm (about 5'3")
wt
45 kg (100 lbs)
hair
Dark brown and naturally on the straighter side. When she feels like putting in more effort, she likes to curl her hair
eyes
Dark brown. Often glassy and puffy from crying out of fear.
others
⋄ Has a tattoo on her right hand from her days in the Solar Bethel

⋄ Farsighted. Needs glasses when reading.
style
Cottagecore
fc
Aoi Yu
04
persona
02
01
sumia
fillersss
.

likes & dislikes
fears
likes
⋄ Talking to clocks and watches
⋄ Cornbread
⋄ Courageous people. She can hide behind them when there's danger
⋄ Napping on cold floors
dislikes
⋄ The moon and nighttime
⋄ Anyone who makes fun of the "Solar God"
⋄ Overly flirty people. She doesn't trust them at all
likes & dislikes
fears
fears

By default: Scared of everything and everyone unfamiliar (sudden loud noises, strangers, new topics in her classes, etc.). She is quite neurotic, as you can tell.

Her major fears:
⋄ Opera houses or any huge, enclosed theatre buildings
⋄ Loud singing
⋄ Dancers, especially if they're wearing yellow or orange costumes
⋄ Being misled, unprotected, or abducted
personality
Soft spoken, gentle, and paranoid, Sumia lives her life in constant fear of people hurting or abducting her, all the while not wanting to hurt anyone while protecting herself.

Though it has been years since she has escaped a cult called the Solar Bethel, she still has cult-like habits and rituals that have stuck throughout the rest of her life. One being her habit of talking to clocks. In the cult, it is said that the Solar God monitors the activities of mankind through faces of clocks. Sumia is deeply infatuated with this "Solar God" and takes every chance she gets to get in contact with "him".

Another habit that has remained is her prayer routine, though other people usually think she's just mumbling. She prays before she takes meals. She prays when she is panicking. She prays when she feels guilty. She prays when she meets new people so that they don't abduct her. Well, you get the point, she prays a lot when she's experiencing heightened emotions.

Sumia can be spotted lying down on cold floors. There have been incidents where people have tripped over her body and thought she had fainted or worse, she had died. But really, she was just napping. She is used to-- and actually kind of enjoys-- napping on cold floors as the Solar Bethel did not provide its younger members with proper beds.

Though she has had to survive off of hunting animals when she escaped the cult and though she has worked in a butcher shop for the rest of her life right after, Sumia is still weak-kneed when it comes to blood and violence. She cries and goes on a mumble-prayer spree every time she has to help her adoptive father out in the butcher shop (her father and their regular customers have gotten used to her odd behavior over the years).

When she is scared or panicked, she will either cry, hide behind or cling onto someone, or munch on a bunch of cornbread that she always brings around with her in a small pouch. Usually it's a combination of the three. And even though she is extremely cautious around strangers, she is very caring towards those she trusts.
history
03
02
01
sumia
Solar God
⋄ The Solar God is not actually the big, overpowering god-like being Sumia likes to describe "it" as. It's just a random low-to-intermediate level demon/malicious spirit that was able to seduce humans into following its bidding. Though because of the amount of worshippers it has gained over the years, it may or may not have grown stronger.
⋄ It takes on the appearance of whatever an individual finds attractive.
⋄ Sumia is deeply infatuated with this dude and is sad that she has not been able to communicate with "him" since she left the Solar Bethel.
⋄ "He" probably doesn't even know that Sumia exists.
Xavier Anstruther
Friend #1
⋄ Found him in an abandon building she was supposed to take a nap in and fed him some cornbread
⋄ Sumia is slightly afraid of him to this day
character name
kek
coded by natasha
life at the Solar Bethel

Sumia was born into a cult called the Solar Bethel. The cult was disguised as a famous local opera house and its members were required to perform rituals to the public. This was how they hypnotized more innocent people into joining the Solar Bethel.

Sumia wholeheartedly believed that the "Solar God"-- the name of the demon that the cult worshipped-- was the true god and that the stage performances were to, in the words of the elders, "enlighten those who are in the dark".

She had seen glimpses of this Solar God during their weekly worship hours. And because of the glamour ability of this demon, it was quite literally love at first sight for Sumia. She devoted all her time and energy into praying, dancing, singing, and playing the flute for "him". And this made her feel fulfilled in life.

One night, a paranormal investigator attended the opera house under the guise of an audience member. He went backstage to expose the truth of the cult to the performers. Of course, this sounded like blasphemy to Sumia but she couldn't help but want to know more from this man.

Before the investigator and some cops could escort the performers out of the building, a group of cult elders appeared and gunned them down. In the midst of the shootout, Sumia was able to escape, with only a bloodied costume on and a flute in hand.

life after the Solar Bethel

For a few months, the 12-year-old Sumia who had just escaped the Solar Bethel, had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. She was completely thrown off by the modern world and was all on her own.

In order to survive, she would go around neighborhoods rifling through trash bins, killing whatever animal she could find for meals, and stealing from vegetable gardens. The bloodshed from the animals made her queasy but this was the only way for her to continue living. The best she could do for the animals was pray to the Solar God and offer their souls to him.

Eventually, she landed herself in trouble with a local butcher from whom she tried to steal from. She had grown tired of hunting for her own food and saw that this man had fridges full of already prepared meat. She figured it was the Solar God answering her prayers for food. Obviously, she was wrong.

Instead of reporting her to the cops, the butcher took pity on Sumia and took her in as his own. As thanks, she volunteered to work in his butcher shop. Sumia came up with a story to cover up her true origins from her adoptive father. Her father and most people around her only know her as "Sue" as she has not told them her real name nor has she informed them of her history with the Solar Bethel. As far as her father knows, she's just an escapee human trafficking victim who was branded on the hand by her captors.

Her father used to think it was weird that she would always pray to this "Solar God or whatever boy band the kids are into these days" before chopping up the meat in the shop. The father eventually got used to her behavior and chalked it all up to teenage hormones and him "being too old to get with the trends".

After a few years of exposure to the "outside world", she became accustomed to modern life and realized the Solar Bethel was not such a great place after all.

Memories of performing the shady rituals and the shootout has left Sumia traumatized of stages, dancers, and auditoriums. However, even through all that, she still dreams of reuniting with the Solar God. Though she no longer has direct access to him as she once had in the Solar Bethel, she still prays to him everyday and before every meal. She also talks to clocks whenever she can in hopes of hearing his voice through the face. Unfortunately for her, she has never gotten a response back.

life trying to contact the solar god again, sans crazy cult

Out of curiosity, she has looked up on the internet the whereabouts of the Solar Bethel, only to be met with varying results. Some sources say they were completely wiped out by the cops and others say the members have just relocated bases. Either way, Sumia wants to know how to contact the Solar God directly.

She wishes to glance upon the face of the Solar God once more and actually talk to him face-to-face for the first time in her life. So she has turned to the Angelwood University Occult Club. She believes that the club knows all about demons and potentially summoning them, sans any traumatizing cult rituals. Even though she hates everything related to the occult or the horror genre, she's willing to force herself to dive into the club if it means being reunited with her god.

Being fully aware of her fear of stages, she chose to become a flute major as she wants to overcome her trauma from the Solar Bethel. She vaguely remembers enjoying performing back in the opera house, but flashbacks from the shootout always get to her when she sets foot on stage. She has not been very successful in classes that require onstage performances, as she usually ends up panicking and crying before getting on stage or in the midst of a performance. It's a work in progress for her, but she's trying.

left

Mire · Sep 29, 2021

Orion Comesti

# Trust Fund main (Fanatic backup)

# George Pomogisebe

♡coded by uxie♡

the trust fund baby.

scroll

Orion

the trust fund baby

01.

full name

Orion Comesti

02.

age

22

03.

gender

Male, he/him

04.

sexuality

Bisexual

05.

ethnicity

White

06.

major

Psychology

07.

year

Third

08.

role

Trust Fund Baby

.
.
.
.
.

comestion.

a devouring by fire; the flames of hell are the fires which burn away impurities.
visage

height

6 ft | 183 cm

weight

140 lbs | 63.5 kilos

hair colour

dark brown-black

eye colour

coffee brown

physique

An angular figure, slender and hardly inclined towards any intense physicality, Orion is evidently suited for ephemeral bursts of agility as opposed to raw force. A stature born from a lifetime of lounging in the shade with nothing but worn books and the dim glow of a screen for company. The subtlest cords of muscle thread his waist, hips, and extremities, yet he maintains an overall slim physique. Though his head is often pitched low, darkly-bagged eyes enraptured in texts or the earth itself, Orion carries himself tall, poise betraying a fluid assuredness no matter his surroundings; a precise, flowing stroll and an effortless run. But he rarely runs.

clothing

Expensive and well-put-together, a momentary glance at Orion will make it clear that he comes from relative wealth. He exclusively favors earth tones, blacks, browns, or tans; long, debonair trenchcoats alongside turtlenecks or other such wear. A form-concealing outer coat accompanied by a tighter underlayer; upscale fabrics with minimal patterns. Any traces of ostentation are meticulously eliminated by a natural aptitude for fashion and a wardrobe consultant. A round silver pendant follows the curve of his sternum; his hands and earlobes are adorned with matching jewelry of the same silvery color. He has no visible tattoos.

face claim

George Pomogisebe

voice claim

Hunter from The Owl House
persona

When the allure of a poem meets deranged charisma.

A loner of the most ambiguous kind, Orion has cultivated a mysterious reputation and puzzling notoriety. Everyone knows his face -- for his family’s name or otherwise -- but he seems inclined to linger on his own, always near the edges of any group interaction; private and haunted, preferring to keep to himself over any inane, exhausting chatter. Though he’s more observant than he lets on, apathetic to the idle interactions around him yet hardly ignorant of them, and he keeps his eyes and ears open, just in case. Near strangers, he maintains this reserved, guarded air, though, in the vicinity of those closer, this is a lessened tendency.

The friends he has -- as woefully few as they are -- identify Orion as dorky, in a word; a social recluse with unorthodox interests yet a surprisingly sweet demeanor. One to love the gentle creatures more than people, of a mind to emotion over pure efficiency. A theatrical flair paired with something a bit cryptic, he is often the voice of trouble, one to convince another to make bad decisions with him, yet he is always there for comfort if -- when -- it goes wrong. He bears subtle lilting of dark humor, a silver-tongued sarcasm that betrays a keen intelligence. His chosen companions are few but until the very end.

Orion is passionate with a thirst for justice that borders the extreme: focused, motivated, and driven. However, at times, his morals do not align with everyone else’s; an insatiable do-gooder yet immorally indifferent all the same. He wishes things were better, and even if he must take matters into his own hands, he'll do whatever it takes to fulfill his vision of morality. A balanced calculation that belies an erratic mindset and an "ends justify the means" mentality. Illegal endeavors are no sweat if it means a bigger, better goal will be achieved in the process.

Subtly unhinged. With a mania that simmers beneath an otherwise collected manner, Orion is an odd amalgamation of forethought and unpredictability. His past experiences have jaded him, and although he looks to the rest of the world with tentative idealism, he often relies on escapism in the form of fiction or the occult: an appreciation for the incorporeal.

Yet, there's something magnetic about him, be it the way he carries himself or the way he speaks, threading words with such easy precision. Like a moth to a flame.

virtues

charismatic

passionate

dorky

loving

street-smart

sweet

loyal

vices

sarcastic

unhinged

loner

erratic

jaded

extreme

morally-grey

fears

becoming like his father

betrayal

abandonment

unrequited love

powerlessness

wasps
history

THE BEGINNING. AKA WHEN EVERYTHING WENT DOWNHILL

March 13th, 1999. Born to Melanie Duke and Cyrus Comesti into the resplendent wealth of the tycoon-owning Comesti bloodline, Orion grew up among gilded halls and vast forestry, never to want or keen for anything that he couldn't afford. For years, their family was happy, all but the picturesque image of every maternity or celebrity gossip magazine cover. His earliest memories were nothing but joyful, with the gentle laugh of his mother resounding in his ears alongside the light hand of his sire.

However, his father was always busy and only very rarely around, enraptured in meetings and work and other such activities, leaving Orion and his mother to use the mansion as they wished. Despite all things, Melanie was not the stereotypical trophy wife of almost every other multimillionaire, as vapid and ostentatious as a peacock: she was a wolf clad in the finest silks. She taught him kindness and love and compassion, but only towards those deserving. (The world doesn’t owe him and he sure as hell doesn’t owe the world.)

Yet, not all that glittered was gold. Every family has a secret — some deadlier than others.

It was innocuous, at first. A little girl visiting the mansion, the daughter of Orion’s main nanny. It wouldn’t have been an extraordinary event, if not for the striking resemblance she bore to his own sire, or the way that she looked at him with such horrible familiarity. There was a hunch, at first, suspicious whispers behind curtains and closed doors, but it would quickly dissolve into a full-blown argument upon Cyrus’ pressured admission. Orion had a half-sister.

The revelation would fester. And it would spiral. To this day, Orion — ten years old, at the time — wonders what went wrong.

Seemingly out of the blue, his mother… vanished. Disappeared in the dead of the night with nothing but a half-remembered dream and a pendant on his bedside table for him to remember her by. Her funeral was held a month later.

Was she truly dead? Or just missing? He didn’t know, and his father didn’t seem too keen on sharing.

Orion, understandably, was not pleased.

(No amount of forced piano and ballroom dance lessons — a paltry concession, too little too late — could possibly change that.)

FUCK IT UP, ORION

Getting into fights was a natural conclusion, at that point. Scorned words at his father or surprising ferocity aimed at the kids who thought the skinny rich boy would be a painless target, heedless of the fact that he was one year older and all too happy to kick their teeth in; at one point, he knew the inside of the principal's office better than his own classes. Despite the complaints of his teachers, his sire was powerful enough to ensure suspensions instead of forced transfers, but at times it was a close thing. (Though his grades were actually decent, considering the circumstances. He made the smart kids rich, managing to, somehow, scrounge some low As and Bs for his effort.)

Alike minds would meet in the ragtag group that took him under their wing, even if only for the lawlessness they each shared. They didn't care for the allure of Orion's fortune past how many ounces he could buy with it. They were… unhinged, to put it lightly. He learned how to shoot a gun and hop a fence in hardly any time at all.

His moments at home were spent in relative tension, carefully listening from the other side of the door for specific footfalls and slithering his way into another corridor upon the worst. His father was either away for months at a while or babbling drunk with an escort latched on his arm. There were times where Orion made an effort to be polite, if only a trivial one, but… sometimes he couldn't handle himself, and walked away with bruised pride and a stinging cheek for it. He avoided his new half-sister whenever he could, and the sheer size of the mansion made this an easy feat; regardless of the faintest curls of guilt and unease in his heart, he couldn't care less about her wellbeing. (The circumstances of her birth are not her fault, so he makes an effort to be cordial when they do meet, but he gets twitchy with her presence.)

In the face of all of this, Orion found intervals for himself. Effortless moments in the shade with a book in hand or late nights browsing Wikipedia articles for answers unrelated, yet utterly addicting. Solitude became bliss.

THE DELVE INTO THE OCCULT

Perhaps long overdue, Orion was forced to transfer schools. A new face, a fresh start.

He, somehow, managed to gain companions of his own, nothing like the mania-fuelled teens of his past; genuine enough to be friends with him not because of the money, but grim-hearted to a degree that they stuck with him despite his loner status and delinquent reputation. Orion fit right in. They introduced him into the questionable world of the occult (as if chanting 'Bloody Mary' three times in the elementary school bathroom wasn't adequate to satiate any morbid curiosity they may have had), starting first with EMF meters and then ouija boards and then rituals of dubious origin and feasibility.

Orion, of course, wasn't the most thrilled with spending their time on stuff that wasn't even real; he was hardly the religious sort. Yet, the larger part of him was begrudgingly intrigued. It was fascinating, if false, and it made an easy pastime. Something they could bond over, at the very least.

Then, one day, a ritual worked. Not enough for anything major, thankfully, but the lights flickered and the mirror cracked and phantom fingers ran a trail down the bony ridges of his spine. He burnt an extra-large bundle of rosemary that night, just in case, but the incident was sufficient to convince him of a conclusion that had been building for months prior. The occult was real.

An obsession grew.

HOW TO BE A FAILURE 101

Between his brawls and errant behavior, the school attempted to mandate a therapist for him -- not that he wanted it, anyway, and his father would sooner disown him than have a son that needed a shrink, going on and on about psychology being "not a real science" during one of his (many) drunken rants.

...Guess who decided to major in it?

He realized that this was his chance to escape from directly beneath his father's thumb. If he had majored in business or law or STEM (like Cyrus had wanted, urged), he would have never done so. Psychology wasn’t even something that he was overly devoted to, but he recognized the benefit of it all too well. (It even was a bit interesting, regardless.)

However, this added to another layer of tension between him and his father. Orion needed the inheritance, and Cyrus knew this. It was a form of rebellion, but it wasn't a personal one. A slighting one. His chosen major was a risk, but one that he had utterly prepared for.

His solution? Kissing ass.

It was a pastime Orion was used to, whenever he wanted a spare dollar and decided to play to his father’s guilt of never being there for his oh-so-sweet yet troubled son. Nevertheless, it was a tendency that he would need to ramp up to eleven lest Cyrus changed his mind about that too-tenuous decision to keep him in the will. (He had chosen psychology, of all things. That inheritance was more important than ever.)

Angelwood University was a decent school, from his findings, though his favorite part? The Occult Club, without a doubt. A club that he spent a regrettably small amount of time in, due to the increasing level of his father's demands as well as other familial drama, but he swiftly cemented himself a deal. As fun as the club was, they could really do so much better, and he knew the exact solution to that: money. He would throw cash their way, and they would elevate things to bigger, greater heights. Taking him along, of course.

Was the otherworldly entity his fault? Indirectly, maybe, but that could also be said for everyone else. The result of macabre urgings and an overwhelming temptation.

He better enjoy it. (While he still could, at least.)
extra
burning pile

mother mother
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

Cyrus Comesti

As a child, Orion’s relationship with his father was significantly better, but everything seemed to go downhill upon Cyrus’ infidelity and the death(?) of his mother. Nowadays, their interactions are tense at best and downright antagonistic at worst. Yet, his desire for a slice of the inheritance and continued access to his wealth beats whatever feelings he may hold, and he has been known to put on a collected veneer when forced to save face. Gotta secure that bag.

(He knows that he could never make it on his own, especially in this economy. He’s not naive.)

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

misc.

01.

Chaotic ???, INFP, 4w3, sx/sp, Melancholic-Choleric

02.

A benefactor of the Occult Club since freshman year, nearly every active participant knows Orion’s face, though very little know his story. For his first two years at Angelwood, he admittedly wasn’t the most active participant in the club’s ongoings, as he spent the majority of that time struggling to stay in his father's good graces, alongside… other things, but his activity took a noticeable spike during the current term. Confident enough to spend time outside of his father’s sphere and finally get his money’s worth — something far overdue.

03.

vibes. eyebags and gleaming teeth. sly hands and crooked grins.

04.

other

♡coded by uxie♡

ravensunset · Sep 29, 2021

the journalist.

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K. Hayes

kathy

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

Katherine Hayes

02.

nicknames

Kath, Kathy

03.

role

the journalist

04.

age

20

05.

gender

female, she/her

06.

sexuality

bisexual

07.

ethnicity

African American

08.

major

Chemistry and English Literature double major

09.

year

3

.
.
.
.
.

numinous.

(adj.) describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted- the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired.
visage

height

5'4

face claim

quintessa swindell

hair

Katherine’s coily hair is a deep brown, though appearing a lighter color at the tips framing her halo of hair. Her hair is commonly pulled back into a ponytail or up in a bun, keeping most of it out of her face while still letting her bouncy curls be shown behind her.

eyes

A deep brown just a few shades darker than that of her hair, Katherine’s eyes reveal both her favourite of her features and the one she most tries to conceal. Wide and curious, her intense gaze latching intently onto anything of interest she finds shows the constant determination she holds, but the dark circles under them and occasional drop of her eyelids while trying to keep them open show how tired the college student really is.

style

Plaid skirts and black pants, dark tops, flats and cardigans, and the occasional high collar, Katherine dresses always a little more formal than the occasion calls for, closer to a style expected from a school uniform than a freely dressing college student. Her wardrobe is carefully curated, meant to give the right impression of her before she even speaks, but she’ll say she simply dresses as is comfortable if questioned about it.
persona

If you repeat something long enough you’ll believe it. If you put your mind to something firmly enough, you’ll achieve it.

Katherine has always been someone driven by her own ambition, someone who knew what she wanted, at least in terms of the academic world she did her best to stick to. As far as Katherine was concerned, with her determination and a lot of planning, there wasn’t much she couldn’t succeed at. Top of her class, any class, and with club involvement and the extracurriculars to create a highly impressive look, on paper.

The rest of the world, though, doesn’t always care about what grades you get. An often quiet girl whose intensity is easy to miss unless her gaze is met, Katherine is often overlooked, and beyond specific circles, not thought of as much beyond just one of the smart kids. Beyond all of her academic success, she can’t claim much of it with friendships or relationships, or truly anything that can’t be studied for.

Although quiet in most situations and not one to interject herself into a situation without invitation, Katherine has always been very opinionated, and very easy to get talking when prompted. There’s a part of her that enjoys it; the attention, being asked for. A stubborn and strong willed individual, Katherine rarely hesitates to stand up for her beliefs or speak up when she thinks no one else will.

Katherine being a good student doesn’t come solely from her intelligence and grades. Obedient and orderly, Katherine’s never broken a rule in her life, even going far enough to defend them. She likes when things are done as expected and as they should be, and seems to trust the authority figures she’s put under. Level headed and stubborn, Katherine can always be counted on to attempt to keep any chaos in check, for better or for worse.

If asked, Katherine would say she values honesty, and considers herself an honest person. And in many ways, Katherine isn’t a liar, or at least, has little intent to do so to others. The inconsistencies in her words, the parts of herself left out of alignment with how she presents them come from her constant conflation of desire and reality, a repetition of what she wants to be true until she’s convinced herself into it. Katherine might seem fully in control, a woman close and comfortable with herself, and truly believe herself to be, she’s barely begun the process of learning who she is.

fears

failure

ending up alone

most bugs

heights

disappointing others

vices

hehe

hehe

whatever

hehe

hehe
history

history

Katherine’s parents worked a lot. She wasn’t complaining, she never would, they’d given her as comfortable of a life as she needed due to it, it was merely a fact. Her parents worked a lot. Katherine was an only child, and she was alone a lot. She’d stay hours after school, preferring it to an almost empty house, and spend weekends at the library.

When Kathy’s parents were around, they praised how well she was doing at school. How responsible she was, that they could trust her alone. How easy she made it for them. Katherine didn’t, for most of her life, understand why they looked as stressed, as tired as they did. She just knew her being good helped, so she kept doing it.

In elementary school, Katherine’s friend went missing. A girl in her grade, one of the few Kathy talked to, didn’t show up to class one day. The police looked, of course, the whole city did, but she wasn’t found. Katherine didn’t understand, really, at the time, and by the time she was old enough to realize the gravity of a missing child, she could barely remember her face, or what their friendship consisted of. She didn’t know the family, and never checked in.

Katherine started writing in sixth grade. She wrote a couple ghost stories, and some childish fiction she didn’t, and wouldn’t, show anyone, and she wrote about what her home was like. She kept writing, though, starting a school newsletter in her middle school, because she wanted to, and because then she could feel her writing was worth doing, giving her a checkmark on her school record and not just a pointless hobby.

Besides. Nothing really felt real until there was a record of it. Until it was written down.

When Katherine was sixteen, her ex boyfriend, an old relationship that had barely lasted a week, told her he’d seen a ghost. Katherine had laughed him off. She refused to join him to go see.

Katherine was valedictorian of her graduating class. She was certain most of the students watching her speech didn’t know who she was; the quiet kid with top grades in a couple clubs didn’t get you noticed on its own. It didn’t matter how much of the student body did or didn’t notice her, though. Her parents were working that day. Katherine moved away that summer, and promised she’d never look back.

College was better, in a way. The same scheduled, grade focused environment she knew how to survive in, and large enough that high school concepts of cliques and popularity could no longer exist. She joined the school newspaper easily enough, having both the talent and experience for it, and it led her to the occult club.

Katherine wouldn’t say she believes in the supernatural. Katherine, smart and scientific and with an image of herself to present, Katherine who deep inside her knows there’s something more to this world, some truth behind the club. Katherine who might just be ready to admit it, if of course she hasn’t put it off so long already that the paranormal will catch up to her before she sees it.
extra
dream catcher

vexento
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

misc.

The occult club.

Katherine isn’t a full member of the club, instead a writer for the student-led school newspaper who helps cover the school's clubs and their activities. She shows up to every meeting without fail, and her leather bound notebook is surely full of writing that she refuses yet to share. Kath’s only here to research and write a few articles, of course. The school credit from the newspaper was helping her out, that’s all. A secret belief in the paranormal and a particularly cute club member had nothing to do with it.

♡coded by uxie♡

KaramelKarma · Sep 29, 2021

gabriel molotov

# the expert (philosophy major)

# gerhard friedl

♡coded by uxie♡

blue-jay · Sep 29, 2021

the expert.

scroll

heidi

wolfe

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

heidi wolfe

02.

age

twenty-one

03.

gender

cis girl

04.

sexuality

pansexual

05.

ethnicity

african-american, euro-american

06.

year

third year

07.

major

english + viola performance

08.

role

the expert

.
.
.
.
.

nocturne.

i stand in the window and watch the moon.
she is thin and lustreless, but I love her.
i know the moon,
and this is an alien city.
visage

height

5'6

weight

125 lbs

hair colour

light brown

eye colour

dark brown

faceclaim

Rachel True
persona

Heidi read somewhere that tragedy is at the root of horror. She figured that this idea explains why the horrific is such an essential part of humanity’s collective imagination; after all, tragedy is at the root of life. Suffering is ubiquitous. Inescapable. At first, Heidi found this realization distressing, but reading has given her a shape in which her pain and fear can exist. Taming her nightmares gave her purpose, but also made her resigned to a quiet, lingering gloom that vignettes her view of the world. A cynic at heart, she rarely, if ever, expects happy endings, especially not for herself.

Heidi carries around the heavy burden of self-loathing. Having internalized her father’s constant criticisms of her personality, pursuits, and appearance, she simply feels… wrong. When she succeeds, she berates herself for not having done more. When she fails, she belittles herself for her inadequacy. Terrified by vulnerability and intimacy, Heidi has constructed a snarky, deadpan shell that’s pretty tough to crack. This dark demeanor is complemented by a grim (and sometimes self-deprecating) sense of humor. Her jokes, often sardonic and/or dealing with her interests, are not for everyone.

All of the aforementioned traits help Heidi to constantly push people away, which is a goal she subconsciously works towards nearly all the time. No one would really like her anyway, she thinks, so why even bother trying? Why set herself up to be embarrassed? In her mind, it’s better to keep people at a distance.

Her interests and talents act as the driving forces in her life, and it shows. Heidi is organized, astute, and meticulous when it comes to her pursuits, sparing no effort or attention to detail. Literature, music, and the occult do more than just make her happy--they give her something to craft her identity from. They give her a sense of self. If you get her talking about these interests, you’ll meet a much more welcoming version of Heidi that displays her sharpness and extensive knowledge. Sometimes, talking about these things even gets her smiling or laughing. Don’t try to get too friendly, however; she still doesn’t trust easily.

Lastly, Heidi believes that some things are sacred. She’s protective in many different senses of the word. She’s protective of her privacy and inner feelings, but she’s also protective of her passions and of the integrity of her pursuits. She’s protective of her family, especially her mother, and their dignity. She’d be protective of her friends if she were to make any, partially because of how hard it is for her to make friends. It's been tough for Heidi to form healthy attachments in such a confusing, scary world. Thus, the attachments that she does form are extra strong. As a companion, Heidi is a good listener and generous, showing affection primarily through actions or gifts rather than words.

virtues

sharp

knowledgeable

diligent

stoic

protective

vices

cynical

aloof

snarky

self-loathing

deadpan

likes

horror media

reading essays

astronomy

the rain

muted colors

dislikes

noisiness

most people

social situations

being vulnerable

habits

biting her nails

twirling her hair

hobbies

reading/writing fiction

the viola

learning languages

(secretly) poetry

fears

emotional exposure/vulnerability

her mom going away/getting hurt

snakes
history

tamer of nightmares

It was 2:17 AM, an especially dark and foggy night in the town of Cape Elizabeth, Maine. A curly-haired, eight-year-old girl was shuffling anxiously from her own upstairs room to the master bedroom on the first floor of the house. She was trembling, red-faced, and teary-eyed. She knocked once on the door of the room where her father and stepmother slept. No response. She knocked again, this time twice. No response except the whistling of the wind outside a nearby window. She knocked again, this time thrice. Suddenly, the door swung open and there her father stood, glaring down at her.

Heidi told him that she had witnessed monsters: saw a shadowy figure in her closet, heard strange noises coming from under her bed, heard scratching at her window. An annoyed groan sounded out from behind her father; Miranda, the stepmother, wanted it to be known that she didn’t care to hear about Heidi’s nightmares. In fact, she didn’t care much for Heidi at all. Heidi's father, Gregory, dragged a hand over his face in frustration. He told her to go back to her room and stop bothering him. “Heidi, if you keep acting like a lunatic,” he said, “I’m gonna have to send you to where crazy people go. Is that what you want?”

Heidi walked back up to her room bitterly. She couldn’t sleep. She shook and sniffled under her covers. She would never ask her dad to save her from the monsters again. In fact, she would begin asking him for as little as possible, lest she be suspected of trying to take attention away from Miranda.

A month later. The same cursed time: 2:17 AM. Except, a different house this time: her mother’s one-story home on the other side of Cape Elizabeth. The divorce had happened before Heidi could remember, so she’d always known her parents’ homes as the small one and the big one. Heidi stepped out of her room, heart-beating fast and eyes tearing up, and took the short walk down the hall to her mother’s room. The door was open and her mother was awake, staring at something on her laptop. When she saw Heidi approaching, Lisette closed the laptop and quickly neatened up the bed, moving aside pill bottles of mood-stabilizers, before inviting Heidi to sit beside her. She spoke softly: “Tell me what’s wrong, honey.”

Heidi told her that she had witnessed monsters: saw a shadowy figure in her closet, heard strange noises coming from under her bed, heard scratching at her window. Lisette smiled softly and took the little girl’s hand. Together, they walked back to the allegedly haunted room and sat down in the middle of the floor, soaking in the noises and following the strange moving shadows. “I know the world is a scary place, Heidi,” Lisette said. “Things we don’t understand freak us out. So, the best thing to do is to try to understand them. We have to tame our nightmares--shine our flashlights on them and figure out what they mean and why they’re here.”

Heidi nodded slowly, carefully considering her mother’s words. After a while, she fell asleep again with her mother by her side. The next day, Heidi accompanied her mother on an errand trip. She asked her mother if they could stop by the library, and they did. She left the library with her small arms full of a variety of interesting titles: The Complete Tales of H.P. Lovecraft, Carrie, Frankenstein, The Haunting of Hill House. Heidi soon started journaling about her thoughts on her reading. Her first entry read simply: I am the tamer of nightmares.

puella autumna

Heidi grew up being thrown between the sweet instability of her mother, who struggled with mental health issues, and the cruel order of her father, who never seemed excited to keep her. Her mother struggled to keep a steady job and orderly life due to her disorder, resulting in Heidi sometimes having to stay with her father for months at a time. When at her father’s house, Heidi was forced to clean the house and listen to her father’s rants and the occasional rant from her stepmother. They often talked about Heidi’s mother’s, calling her a lunatic and a nut. Miranda would sometimes say to Heidi: “You’re gonna turn out just like her if you don’t get your act together.” That was their second most popular topic of conversation: Heidi. Her body. Her social life. Her interests. Everything was up for discussion, and they rarely had anything nice to say.

The time Heidi spent with her mother was different. Her mother showered her with praise and encouraged her interests. There was significantly less discipline involved in her mother’s style of parenting. Heidi was allowed to spend hours upon hours reading literature. Her absolute favorites were, of course, the works of horror fiction. She also did plenty of analytical, non-fiction reading on esoteric legends, the science of the supernatural, and rumors of strange, eldritch beings living right under the noses of everyday people. The world was a scary place, indeed.

Heidi didn’t make any friends in school: people terrified her. There were often whispers among her classmates about how weird she was and about how other students' parents knew about her mother’s mental health struggles. Heidi didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her anxious or hurt, so she learned to adopt a defensive coldness and snarkiness. She began telling herself that she would never make friends because no one understood her, and she truly felt that way with all her heart. With no social life, her interests in literature, the occult, and playing the viola took all of her time. She even allowed these passions to define her identity. After all, there wasn’t much else to her, was there? She was the goth loser: the girl who loved autumn because the cold and the rain gave her an excuse to stay inside all day, the world outside obscured by fog.

In her junior year of high school, things began to look like they could be different. She met a guy: nice, handsome, charismatic. They’d been going to the same schools since fourth grade, but he’d never spoken to her until now. Heidi began to consider that she could be more than the goth loser, even if just for this one person. Long story short: she ended up sorely disappointed. Hector, the boy, had only been nice to her as a sort of joke. Heidi figured out at a party--her first party, which she had only gone to because Hector invited her--that he had started talking to her because somebody had dared him to “talk to the weird girl and see how she reacts.” She walked home in the dark, trembling, red-faced, and teary-eyed. This was the nightmare she could never tame: the nightmare of other people. She swore to never let herself be humiliated that way again, no matter what it took.

unexpected belonging

Heidi, due to her lack of a social life, was a fairly good student. She was awarded several scholarships during college application season. However, there wasn’t enough money for her to go to school out of state as she wanted, so she opted to go to a college in another part of Maine. Although her father protested furiously, she decided to major in English and Viola Performance. To this day, he still berates her about her choice to study "useless" subjects.

Upon arriving, she heard about an Occult Club. Although the thought of engaging with other people made her terribly anxious, her intense passion for the occult compelled her to join. She went to the first meeting and was immediately captivated by everything. She already had a wealth of knowledge on the subject and the club helped her to put it to use and to enrich it further. She found herself warming up to the people. Now, she’s in her third year. Her relationships with the different members of the club vary, of course, but being around like-minded people has caused her to feel like she may have a place in the world at last. (The intricacies of her personal development and time at the school will be further explored in plotting.)
extra
hurts me too

faye webster
relationships

extra.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

relationships

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

extra.

EXTRA

N/A

♡coded by uxie♡

plague rats · Sep 29, 2021

Fanatic WIP- CW for body horror in the first tab. gonna add a plaintext version once i have it done for anyone who'd rather not see that

the fanatic

scroll

name

Novak

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

Deacon Novak

02.

age

21

03.

sexuality

Bi

.
.
.
.
.

prometheus

with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries
visage

height

6'4"

weight

172 lbs

hair colour

Bleach Blond

eye colour

Blue

title

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. In bibendum tincidunt purus ac facilisis. Aliquam commodo dapibus auctor. Ut eget arcu ut enim euismod bibendum a quis risus. Nam sed egestas lectus.
persona

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nam et faucibus erat. Sed lobortis tincidunt imperdiet. Nulla a ultricies risus. Pellentesque rutrum ipsum non tempus convallis. Maecenas eget nibh eu diam blandit auctor in interdum ligula. Nam ultrices risus vel ante suscipit facilisis. Ut ac semper nulla. Morbi accumsan finibus turpis nec gravida. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Vestibulum tempus, erat nec porttitor finibus, nulla diam molestie leo, eu interdum nunc tortor non tellus. Nunc non pharetra libero, sit amet convallis elit. Proin in diam finibus, porttitor mauris hendrerit, cursus velit. Vestibulum quis faucibus tortor, eu ullamcorper metus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nulla a enim magna.

Sed ut tempor libero. Morbi vel felis et libero consequat vulputate sit amet vel elit. Suspendisse at porta mi, vitae venenatis mauris. Curabitur id maximus nibh, sed fringilla mauris. Aliquam efficitur finibus diam. Nam pharetra ac turpis ut ornare. Curabitur sed tellus ut nisi dictum cursus eu at nisl. Praesent eleifend nunc erat, at ornare sem accumsan et. Integer in massa rutrum, placerat quam vel, ultrices dolor. Maecenas et risus pellentesque, pulvinar enim nec, consequat tellus. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Vivamus ullamcorper massa ac sodales ultricies. In pellentesque vestibulum tristique.

virtues

hehe

hehe

vices

hehe

hehe

whatever

hehe

hehe
history

happy little accidents

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young frankenstein

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

event title

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event title

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.
extra
weird science

oingo boingo
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

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name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

misc.

title

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. In bibendum tincidunt purus ac facilisis. Aliquam commodo dapibus auctor. Ut eget arcu ut enim euismod bibendum a quis risus. Nam sed egestas lectus.

♡coded by uxie♡

.V1LLAINISM._ · Sep 29, 2021

EDDIE WONG YOSHIDA

VICE PRESIDENT

miyabi w help from

birth of venus

EDDIE WONG YOSHIDA

VICE PRESIDENT

miyabi w help from

birth of venus

xayah. · Sep 29, 2021

SCROLL

I HAVE EVERYTHING YET HAVE NOTHING; BUT EVEN WITH NOTHING, I WANT NONE

SCROLL

Full Name: sylvie de levin
Nickname: lyz by close friends and her parents
Role: the plus one
Age: 20
Gender: cis female
Sexuality: pansexual panromantic
Ethnicity: lithuanian
Nationality: american
Major: dance & kinesiology
Year: 2nd

VISAGE

at 5'2, 103 lbs with lean, elegant limbs attached to a thin, light frame, it's almost as if sylvie was specifically created to be a ballerina. built like a barbie doll, with the exception of having wavy brunette locks instead of straight golden blonde ones, it's no wonder the dance major stands out in a crowd despite her short stature and basic clothing choices. however, the stares are more often from a sense of intrigue than attraction. sylvie radiates an aura that is almost ethereal, if not eerie, like she's in a different world than the rest of the students. part of it stems from the way she moves, almost too fluid and elegant for a human body to be capable of doing, but the majority comes from her eyes.
big and doe-shaped, but most importantly much too blue to be normal, the first thing anyone notices about sylvie are her eyes. despite their bright aquamarine blue color, they are dull in a lifeless way. never twinkling or shining with interest, she often feigns the emotion with the slight upturn of her small heart-shaped lips. only in dance does her face ever change, and even then that is simply for the show. it would take the sky falling and hell rising to rouse the dancer to remove the mask of feigned interest that she wears everyday: a demanding, if not impossible, task.
faceclaim: alexia giordano

PERSONA

"dance is the language of the soul."

but what is it for someone soulless? sylvie navigates through life like everyone else, but to say she's as attached would be a lie. the affection of her parents is as meaningful to her as a stranger's stare. despite knowing the difference between the two, she simply cannot bring herself to care, and a person without interest is a person without dreams or visions of the future. that means sylvie lives only in the present. she's a prime example of someone who goes with the flow and relies quite a bit on the people around her to make decisions for her about what to do. as such she's often found in the midst of a group of people at all times. that doesn't mean sylvie is particularly close or well-acquainted with any of them though, just easily influenced by who she hangs around.
despite her lack of connection with people, sylvie has a certain charm to her that pricks peoples' attention. naturally kind and patient, in an empty customer service type of way, she's easy to converse with and difficult to anger. that doesn't mean she won't argue, maybe debate is a better word, but you certainly won't see her worked up or frustrated over a poor test score, which she has a tendency to get from lack of effort in her studies, or a fight with a friend. it is a bit difficult for her to comprehend other's feelings when she can't even understand her own in the first place.
there are only two moments when something changes in sylvie: dancing and seeing others be interested in something. ironically, for someone so out of touch with others, sylvie seems to live only through the imitation of others whether that be taking on a role in a performance or being dragged to participate in someone's hobby.
maybe that is because life comes too easily to the dancer. to have all that you want at your beck and call is a tiresome burden, and something that drains the enjoyment from life for sylvie. she is grateful for all that she has though and has a tendency to keep anything that comes her way. couple that with an inability to say no to anything offered to her, and sylvie's collection of trinkets and items is endless. perhaps the fastest way to her nonexistent heart is with gifts. after all, that's how she joined the occult club.

virtues: kind, outgoing, relaxed, charming, patient, grateful
vices: apathetic, undedicated, impressionable, indecisive, acquiescent

likes: dancing, participating in other people's interests, freebies, busy & crowded places, gifts you can't buy with money
dislikes: gift cards, being alone, compliments and praise, being eternally uninterested, being the decision maker

HISTORY

the de levins are what you would call old money. a staple of the town, the wealth they've accumulated over the course of many centuries and generations is beyond the comprehension of most. it's not quite clear how this immigrant family from the 1800s rose from exploited factory worker to the infamous family every town has, especially with no clear records of them doing anything monetizable, but their presence is so ingrained in the town that not many question it. rumors of black magic and conspiracies die down as quickly as they rise. for those fortunate enough to be born under such a title, an easy life is all but guaranteed.
no one said anything about it being so dull though. even as a young child, sylvie was always uninterested in whatever her parents or caretakers had to give her. while she was never in any position to say no, after all what child could ever deny a gift from their caretakers, sylvie never spared the items a second glance; she knew that anything she wanted could be gained with just a word. a single raised pinky finger held the power of a king, and that was so dreadfully boring.
school was never much different. when your family name has so much history and power behind it, the amount of people pleasers looking to make connections through you is immeasurable. it didn't matter how poor sylvie did in anything. praise and compliments flooded her ears from all directions.

"bring this home for your parents, sylvie. say it's from me, okay?"
"your parents will be delighted at your progress. make sure to tell them it's cause i'm a great teacher okay?"

the young girl's only reprieve from this were her ballet classes. hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? no, hell hath no fury like an old, soviet era russian ballerina scorned. the classes were her only taste of the real world: a place that had no preferences and favoritism. even while the other kids left slowly one by one, tired of what could now be called verbal abuse, sylvie grew up by the side of her overly blunt and demanding teacher. tears, lots of them, spilled from the young girl on a daily basis as she pushed through the grueling classes. but even though the woman was cruel, sylvie knew her teacher wouldn't have persisted with teaching her if she was truly as awful as her teacher said.
the burden that felt lifted from her shoulders during dance made it clear that there was only one path for her as she headed to college. the university had historically graduated generations of her ancestors, and sylvie was no different. it was essentially a rite of passage for any member of the de levin family although... no one mentioned any occult club membership being part of that rite. unable to turn down a good freebie, a young freshman sylvie was tempted, successfully, by the promise of a free t-shirt. and while she may not be the most active member, even a little forgetful of the fact that she's even a part of the occult club, the president never fails to lure her back with the promise of a good freebie that she'll never look at again after a day.

EXTRAS

fears: no longer getting anything she wants, feeling this empty forever, losing the ability to do the only thing she personally cares about-dance, the deep ocean, being placed in a position that requires her to make hard decisions

sylvie de levin

coded by xayah.

birth of venus · Sep 29, 2021

francis flowers, the medium. placeholder. if he had a business card, it'd say f. flowers, haunted house expert, soft boy extraordinaire.

fc: river phoenix.

mini playlist:
francis forever - mitski
don't like me - teen suicide
dead weight - jack stauber
sleepyhead - passion pit
baby you're a haunted house - gerard way

pantone

®

#95b7cc
FRANCIS FLOWERS.

coded by weldherwings.

yoikes · Sep 29, 2021

Videographer

Full Name: Wardani Rahayu
Nickname: Warda
Role: Videographer
Age: 20
Gender: F
Sexuality: Straight
Ethnicity: Javanese
Nationality: Indonesian
Major: International Business
Year: 2nd year

Appearance:
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 115lbs

Personality: Ambitious and studious, Warda is very strict with herself. It came from her feeling of gratitude, to be given the chance that so little could get, and from the regret and frustration she experience in her childhood. Despite the hardships they encountered, her parents still raise her well to become a person who is honest and kind to others. However, her emotions can rather easily swing when things don't go the way she want such as failing to win the first place, although those negative emotions are directed more toward her than others. She would loathe her lack of skills and abilities, thinking that it is what made her fail.

Likes: Saving money, keeping things organized, finishing her assignment because that means she could get to..., sleep

Dislikes: People who cheat, cold weather (especially in autumn - winter, when it snows / blizzard), submitting a work that she is not satisfied with, staying out until late night (especially try to evade being awake, or at least try to stay inside, around 3 - 5AM, which she believes to be the devil's hour).

Fears: Superstitious. Being an Indonesian, she was raised in an environment that still has mythical beliefs in the supernatural. Like how her mother warn her not to play after 5PM, lest the Wewe Gombel will kidnap her and take her as her own. To be careful when passing through banana trees, lest she will anger the Pocong. It's a belief that she still holds even when she is in America, even though obviously there is no Kuntil Anak or Genderuwo in America... right?

**BACKGROUND -**
History:
Warda was born to a family of merchant, her father managed a small grocery store for the neighborhood, just making enough for the family to live above the poverty line. Though her family is not rich, she live in a loving family. She live comfortably for several years, until the country was hit by an economic instability that is disastrous for small business owner like her father. Warda watched how the bank official, accompanied by several mean looking men, came to seize their store, the car, and their home along with most of the things inside it. "As long as they have each other, they can always rebuild", so her father said, as they moved into the cheap, windowless apartment they are renting.

That is when something clicked within Warda. She doesn't want anyone else to take her belongings again, to take what her family own. She want to be "successful", whatever that means. Is it to be rich? Is it to be powerful? Is it to attain a high position? If so, then that is what she is aiming for.

And so she study and study and study. When she don't, then she would be working as a private tutor for rich kids, or working part-time in a convenience store near their apartment building. Eventually, Warda gathered her courage to apply for the national scholarship program. With it granted, so is her ticket to study in a higher education, to Angelwood University.

The journey to America made her feel like an alien, considering she never went overseas or even ride an airplane before. But she can't help but to feel something swelling within her. Pride? Confidence? She think it's a mixture of both, and she know damn well that she have to make use of this chance as a leaping stone.

Warda was amazed with the varieties of club in the university, she had a lot in mind such as the debate club or literature club, but eventually decided on occult club because she feel a sense of familiarity with it and think that it'll be easy. Maybe she can even sneak in the time to do her assignment after setting up the camera to record, while the other try to do a séance. After all, all she need to do is to take picture, record videos, and uploading them. No stress involved!

miyabi · Sep 29, 2021

Dr. Andrew Sweeney

# The Administrator

# Jeffrey Dean Morgan

♡coded by uxie♡

Snepperoni · Oct 3, 2021

The Freshman.

scroll

Xavier

ㅎㅎ

01.

full name

Xavier Anstruther

02.

age

19

03.

Gender

Masculine (He/They)

04.

sexuality

Demisexual Demiromantic

05.

ethnicity

white

06.

nationality

Scottish

07.

major

History (Folklore)

08.

Year

First Year

.
.
.
.
.

Persistence.

the fact of continuing in an opinion or course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.
visage

height

6'1" | 185cm

build

slight, lean, lanky

hair colour

red

eye colour

green

physique

Xavier has always been a slight boy, rarely pushing into a healthy weight bracket. He’s an above average height for his age, but the spindliness of his limbs makes him look far taller and lankier than he is. Despite his small build, he’s reasonably strong from years of farm work and has plenty of lean muscle to spare.

appearance

Xavier's skin is pale and even brief stints outside will leave him sunburnt, causing freckles to blossom on his skin. As such, his face has the highest concentration of freckles, with the heaviest spotting across his nose and cheeks. His eyes are a sullen green that his smiles never seem to reach. The bags under his eyes allude to years of restless nights. The only bright feature of Xavier’s is his hair. A fiery mess that’s kept short to avoid the tight curls it tries to form. He rarely brushes it, preferring to shave it off when it becomes too unruly.

faceclaim

Daniil Kalinin
persona

Quiet by nature, most people would expect Xavier to fall into the “sweet but shy” trope and get a nasty surprise for their assumptions. He’s quiet, yes, but his silence is a watchful kind, not the sort built by the anxiety of interaction. He finds comfort in his position as an observer and tends only to participate if the fancy strikes him. His teachers have quickly learnt he does his best work on his own and forcing him to interact with other students rarely goes well. The few unfortunate souls who’ve been partnered with Xavier for school work find him moody, disagreeable, and downright unpleasant to be around. Though he’s not actively mean, his stubbornly standoffish nature tends to outlast even the most determined attempts to make friends.

virtues

loyal

independent

tenacious

vices

impulsive

moody

loner

likes

cold weather

rain

forests

wilderness

dislikes

heat

summer

loud people

fears

imposters, doppelgängers, body snatchers

forests and woods

deep water

drowning

large creatures

the dark
history

Beginnings

Born in a small village in Perthshire. Rolling hills and expansive forests made up the backdrop of Xavier’s childhood. They were as familiar to him as his own house. Most of his days were spent in the comfort of the wilderness; foraging for tidbits to bring home, climbing trees, setting up traps for rabbits, building dams, and finding all the hiding places a forest could offer. It was a safe place for a quiet, lonely boy and a safe place for much more. They had an unspoken agreement, the forest and Xavier. From dawn to dusk, it would be a playground, but the second the sun dipped below the horizon it became something else. Xavier only stayed out after dark once, but it was enough. It took him months to return to the woods, but it no longer held the same sense of safety it had before. The mask had been removed and Xavier had witnessed the wolf beneath. He retreated to the security of the village to play instead.

Insistence

But the woods didn’t forget Xavier. They longed for their playmate to return. At night, the forest would whisper through the walls and scratch at the windows, calling to him. Sometimes he’d go to the window and look out at the woods. If he stared long enough, he could swear he’d see something move between the trees. He started sleeping with the blinds closed and his head under the pillow, trying his best to block out the forest. But his refusal only made it more insistent. The first time Xavier woke up at the edge of the woods, it had felt as natural as coming home after a long day. The second time he’d been a step closer and the whispering didn’t fade until he was safely back at home. The third time, he was close enough to feel the damp, earthen air in his lungs. He petitioned his parents to lock his door at night, which they hesitantly agreed to. He awoke at his door a few more times before his sleepwalking finally subsided.

Consequence

Xavier was sixteen when his mother went missing. One night she went to bed and simply wasn’t there in the morning. The village searched for her, first by foot, then by hound, and finally by horseback, but there was no sign of Xavier’s mother. They braved the looming pines of the woods, but the hounds grew restless a mile in and would only lead them in circles. After months without results, the search was called off and quiet suspicion fell on Xavier’s father. There was no proof, and he was as distraught as a husband should be, but the assumption lay unspoken yet inherently known amongst the village. They moved south to Edinburgh not long afterwards.

The New Normal

Home became a quiet, sullen thing. Xavier’s father never quite recovered from the loss of his wife, and Xavier could never quite bury the guilt of his own inaction. The pair fell into a stagnant routine. Xavier went to school, his father went to work, and at the end of the day they’d come home to share a meal in near silence. Life stayed like that for a time until Xavier’s guilt finally chewed through its cage. He told his father he was applying for an overseas scholarship and was met with nothing more than acknowledgement. It was the most they’d spoken in weeks. Xavier left the year after.
extra
Sleepwalk

Forrest Day
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

misc.

01.

Has an incredibly thick Scottish accent

02.

Speaks Scottish Gaelic as a second language

03.

Has a patch of his tartans sewn onto his messenger bag

04.

Tendency to sleepwalk

♡coded by uxie♡

mother of sorrows · Oct 11, 2021

the skeptic.

scroll

engel

C. W.

ㅎㅎ

01.

name

engel christian wakefield

02.

age

22

03.

sexuality

bisexual

03.

major

medicine + mortuary science

.
.
.
.
.

wound.

He was another knife, I could feel it. A different sort, but a knife still. I did not care. I thought; give me the blade.
visage

height

info

weight

info

hair colour

info

eye colour

info

title

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. In bibendum tincidunt purus ac facilisis. Aliquam commodo dapibus auctor. Ut eget arcu ut enim euismod bibendum a quis risus. Nam sed egestas lectus.
persona

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nam et faucibus erat. Sed lobortis tincidunt imperdiet. Nulla a ultricies risus. Pellentesque rutrum ipsum non tempus convallis. Maecenas eget nibh eu diam blandit auctor in interdum ligula. Nam ultrices risus vel ante suscipit facilisis. Ut ac semper nulla. Morbi accumsan finibus turpis nec gravida. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Vestibulum tempus, erat nec porttitor finibus, nulla diam molestie leo, eu interdum nunc tortor non tellus. Nunc non pharetra libero, sit amet convallis elit. Proin in diam finibus, porttitor mauris hendrerit, cursus velit. Vestibulum quis faucibus tortor, eu ullamcorper metus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nulla a enim magna.

Sed ut tempor libero. Morbi vel felis et libero consequat vulputate sit amet vel elit. Suspendisse at porta mi, vitae venenatis mauris. Curabitur id maximus nibh, sed fringilla mauris. Aliquam efficitur finibus diam. Nam pharetra ac turpis ut ornare. Curabitur sed tellus ut nisi dictum cursus eu at nisl. Praesent eleifend nunc erat, at ornare sem accumsan et. Integer in massa rutrum, placerat quam vel, ultrices dolor. Maecenas et risus pellentesque, pulvinar enim nec, consequat tellus. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Vivamus ullamcorper massa ac sodales ultricies. In pellentesque vestibulum tristique.

virtues

hehe

hehe

vices

hehe

hehe

whatever

hehe

hehe
history

beginning

The Wakefields are a very wealthy and very old family - and as wealthy and old families tend to be, they are cold.

Engel was born warm in body only, barely stirring in the arms of Lucinda and Albert Wakefield as they sat for the newest portrait; muted, early spring air flickering softly on the family of three. It was a routine the couple has gone through time again, and only watching as paint filled the canvas for hours was nothing they could not take. They had expected the young son to cry, to get sick of all of it and squirm in his mother's lap until they are to take a break.

But Engel was a quiet child. He cried only so often, as if remembering himself and thinking 'oh, right, I should be upset soon.' The wintry halls of the mansion rarely heard his weeping and even then, it was quickly smothered under the care of nannies and governesses. With every need taken care of and a golden spoon - crafted by line after line of great men and women - grasped firmly in his tiny fist, Engel was like every Wakefield child: dark haired and dark eyed, of a strong brow and flickering smile.

He was all his mother, in appearance and soul.

childhood

Any child of the Wakefields will be perfect; this is not a question. It is a demand, one that will crush you alive if you dare not live up to it.

Engel was not perfect, but he is the closest thing to it out of the children.

Strict scheduling and best schooling that money can afford filled his days, eased by expensive hobbies that still felt like competition in a way Engel couldn't explain - but took on head first. He did kickboxing and he did very well. He sang in choir and he got every lead voice, making the other kids fall into the background. He played the violin and his tutor cooed over his talent, with the young boy's parents getting invites to youth concerts every month. He debated and wrote and rode horseback and aced every subject that came under his curriculum, each time coming home with a sparkling smile and arms filled with trophies, compliments, report cards. His face stared from every school newspaper, listing off his accomplishments in an envious, obsessive love.

And how effortlessly he did it, too. Perhaps it would be less of a blow if Engel had worked hard for what he had, but life is a terrible mother of playing favorites. It just so happens life doted on him; and that was a slap in the face for everybody around him. Engel had plently of brothers and plently of sisters, but not even the eldest could deny the stirrings of self-doubt and jealousy - their parents' friends heard only Engel, Engel, Engel, till all other names were all but forgotten.

Engel is not perfect even now, but he is the closest thing his parents have.

...

But they all, Engel and his parents, know that is not exactly true, even if they would like to play at it.

There are three things you need to know.

1) Lucinda Wakefield was once the most charming debutante and now she is the most charming wife. Of red lips and cold smiles, black curls and gentle eyes, she is delicate even in her steady age. She paints roses that are so beautiful you would think they are real, and plants flowers so beautiful you would think they are fake. She loves music. She hates shrill voices. She's okay with sour food, but doesn't care much for it. When she was six, she saw her mother kissing a man that was not her father and has not told anybody since.

2) Engel is exactly like her.

3) Lucinda has a mental illness, but everybody around her pretends she does not.

There are cracks in the foundation. Even worse so, everybody closes their eyes even as they are stepping right on them.

the spiral

Pretend for a second that you are a child.

You do everything your parents ask you to and you try your best to make them proud. You succeed, mostly and your parents love you. There is no lack of money or toys or custom fit clothes. You fit in with the other children, if even rise above them. You are not kind about that fact, but everybody wants to be your friends anyways.

Sometimes your mom forgets your name.

You've heard that adults have bad memory, that simple phrases will escape their grasp and they have to scowl and think to rememeber it. That's what happens when she looks at you, dark eyebrows pulling into a frown; she will think for a few moments, wondering who this child is - until realisation creeps into her eyes again and she pulls you into a hug, asking how your day went.

She is not a good mom. She is not a bad one, either.

One time she vaguely complimented a drawing you made, her gaze elsewhere - you had worked hard on it, but it seemed like she couldn't care less. You found it crumpled up in the trash later, hidden behind paperwork and files. You felt sad.

One time she took you out of school early and put a finger to her lips, smiling. She took you to the park, sitting by the lake in the soft grass and watching light play on the water. She gave you a gift then. You felt happy.

One time she fell to the floor screaming, torn hair in her hands and blood splattering the floors. She did not remember you.

You felt horrified.

now

It's genetic. Engel knows this.

He doesn't see his mom often anymore; and when he does he is a stranger to her. She stares at him and frowns, frowns, frowns, but the recognition never comes. She has slipped through his hands, like water through fingers - everytime it seems like she truly sees him, when it seems like his attempts at coaxing out the woman that raised him are working, she's lost again.

Engel doesn't stop trying, even though he is terrified of himself now.

He smiles well enough. Works well enough, talks well enough. He is still the prodigy he was as a child, but all grown up - wide shoulders, easy smile, shiny hair. He is a wealthy, well-established student from a wealthy, well-established family and his future is as bright as dawn in early spring. Engel has everything.

Sometimes, when he looks at people he knows, he finds that he can't remember their name.
extra
bambi

saay (orig. baekhyun)
connections

misc.

aaaaaaa
aaaa

connections

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

name here

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras ullamcorper erat purus, quis mollis metus auctor vel. Duis eget luctus justo. Donec aliquet fermentum porttitor. Morbi quis dapibus odio, at viverra leo. Integer ut dictum lacus, nec congue odio. Nullam sapien ante, interdum ut mattis eget, varius ac justo. Pellentesque eu ante nec nibh vulputate ullamcorper.

misc.

title

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♡coded by uxie♡

miyabi · Oct 11, 2021

the medium — jeanine ambrose

mother of sorrows · Oct 22, 2021

max m. moltisanti

# living dead boy with ghosts in his head

♡coded by uxie♡

Realistic or Modern 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐦 ;; the members.

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

* screams into the abyss *

𝙖 𝙘𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙙𝙖 𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙚.

𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.

♡𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚎♡

A kitty in disguise

New Member

no thoughts just vibes

ʜᴏɴᴇʏʏʏ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴍʏ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ sᴜɪᴛ ?!

a secondary antagonist

New Member

𝘜 𝘕 𝘋 𝘌 𝘈 𝘋 ;;

i return stronger than i left

𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦﹗

The (Not So) Evil Mastermind

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

Incoherent Screeching

𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.

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