Realistic or Modern ☽ - - ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ ☾ [ cs ]

[Parallax]

❝ the sleep promise ❞

welcome

Here's the character application thread! I really look forward to seeing everyone's characters. In the end, if I don't select you, please don't be offended. It's not a reflection on you as a writer, but rather who I think would best suit the role. Have fun, love you guys! (:

to include

Here is a list of the things I'd like to see included in your character applications!
Name [nicknames, family name, etc]
Age [d.o.b.]
Appearance [height, weight, hair, eyes, build, distinctive features, alterations, scars, face claim, etc]
Role [name the role, and be sure to involve the story behind how they became this role in your other areas]
Personality [traits, likes, dislikes, interests, talents, etc.]
History [it doesn't have to be insanely thorough or written out, but please do flesh out some backstory on how they fit this role]
Anything else you want to add as well (:

rules.

RULE.This roleplay will be mostly literate, and I expect to see unique, reasonably flawed characters that have been fleshed out. No perfect, 'my worst quality is I care too much' mary/gary sue people. That's just a pain, and a bore. Please be able to write a few paragraphs, at least once a week.

RULE.You will need a Discord in order to join. I love Discord for getting to know the users, plotting, and general shenanigan tomfoolery.

RULE.Realistic face-claims only, no exceptions. Face-claims are necessary. One character each.

RULE.It will be an application based roleplay. I'm very passionate about this concept and want to be sure the characters fit what I think would make the roleplay most successful. You're in charge of inventing the story behind your character's role.

roles.

SURVIVOR'S GUILT.Ever since they went through a life-changing event resulting in the passing of others while they lived on, this muse has struggled to sleep soundly.

FAMILY TIES.Their family seemed like a suburbia success, but on the inside, things are rougher than they seem.

MY FAULT.Ever since they could remember, they felt different from everyone else. Crazy. Separated. Alien. Their torment is their own mind.

AMNESIA.There's a part of their life that was snatched from their head. They don't know what happened, but every time they try to recover it, they panic. The nightmares don't help, either.

CRIMINAL.They used to do bad things. Very bad things. But even after turning their life around, it plagues them to remember what their actions once were.

GRIEF BEYOND.They lost someone close to them. The closest person in their life, in fact. Their child. Now, life is forever changed, and so is their outlook on everything. [--Taken by Parallax]

— falling up

 

[Parallax]

euphrasia wixx

—requisite
name: euphrasia eden wixx
nicknames: sia, fray, wiki, razzy
alias: none
age: 27
gender: female
birthdate: feburary 10th
hometown: amsterdam, netherlands
sexuality: bi-sexual
role: grief beyond
occupation: work-at-home virtual artist

—psyche
alignment: chaotic neutral
ideals/principles: do what you must, if you feel you must
virtues: keen, discreet, dynamic, empathetic, flexible, witty, decisive, tidy, self-sufficient, sociable, reliable, comedic, zealous, open-minded
vices: highly emotional, tumultuous, fickle, overly-friendly, easily shut down, self-destructive, stuck in the past, unconventional, warped
habits: solving puzzles, pinching herself on the thigh, braiding small amounts of hair and forgetting about them leading to them knotting up, applying a specific lotion to her hands
fears: papercuts, pregnancy, birds, isolation, social rejection, a loveless life
hopes: to finally be at peace some day
ailments: C-PTSD, panic disorder, EDNOS
fatal flaw: inability to move on

—visage
height: 5"2
hair: obsidian black, sometimes red
eyes: pale aquamarine
dist. features: tattoos, dark eyelashes, bags beneath her eyes, surprisingly gravelly, smoky voice
build: willowy, underweight, slightly curvy and large breasted
scent: a mixture of citrus, cigarette, and clean laundry

—abilities
talents: calligraphy, pacman champ, debating, juggling, cooking, script writing
weaknesses: babies, being yelled at, pears and coconut which she is deathly allergic to
strengths: well-read, street smart, fluent in English and French, great artist, mediating

—history
backstory: she had a close, loving relationship with both parents. even despite this, she struggled with bullying in school for small, superficial reasons. it screwed with her self-image, likely due to never developing the skills to cope with such directionless negativity. her parents proved to be naive to her despair, up until the bullying began to consume her in high school. the week she resolved to finally tell them, she caught her mother having an affair with a man she'd seen only one other time at work. when her parents split, it blindsided her. she barely even saw them fight. it destroyed a part of her, having only been 13 at the time. she flung herself into isolation socially as she switched homes from her mother and father's house, up until age 19 when she met the boy who'd end up being her college sweetheart. he got her pregnant at 21, found out, and ditched. after that, she resolved to get her own place and raise the baby herself, certain that a man was not necessary in her life to raise the baby. in fact, a husband would just get in the way. you can't divorce and screw up your kid if you're single. when her baby was born, she was small. healthy. her name was june. june changed euphrasia for the better, thrusting her to make changes she'd needed for years. it was her and june against the world. until she lost her when june was 5 years old.
relationships: mother - positive
father - rocky
theme song: undecided

 

[weldherwings]

• 01
• 02
• 03
• 04

• name arlo roe (ar-low rowe)
  
  nicknames arie (ah-ree)
  
  korean name roe ahnjong
  
  role family ties
  
  age twenty-five
  
  date of birth 29th September
  
  hometown dallas, tx
  
  current location dallas, tx
  
  ethnicity korean
  
  nationality american
  
  gender male
  
  occupation medical intern
  
  sexuality demisexual
  
  religion agnostic
  
  languages english, korean + japanese
  
  
• 
  hair colour dark brown + medium cut - long enough for his parents to complain
  
  eye colour dark brown
  
  height 179 cms
  
  weight 66 kgs
  
  build Ectomorph
  
  face claim Im Jaebum
  
  
  
  
  
  piercings A nose piercing, four in his right ear and three on his left. He tends to wear black piercings or studs
  
  tattoos He doesn't have any but would like to one day. Just don't tell his parents - they would have a field day!
  
  scars Various scattered scars on his back from his childhood and one on his scalp (back left of his head) from splitting his head
  
  
  positive traits
  - Quick, imaginative + Strategic Mind
  - Independent + Decisive
  - Hard-working + determined
  - Jack of all trades
  
  likes
  - Drinking by himself
  - Hiking
  - Listening to music
  - Playing games + streaming
  - Discord
  
  
  negative traits
  - Judgemental
  - Overly Analytical
  - Clueless in Romance
  - Loathe's high structured environments without understanding why.
  
  dislikes
  - Cleaning (but he does it anyway unless he wants to get his ass kicked by his parents)
  - The soap they use at the hospital because it makes his hands dry
  - Grocery shopping/meal prepping
  - Arguing or yelling
  - Wearing a belt
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Where were you born?​

  
  

  I was born at Dallas County Hospital District at around four in the morning after six hours of labour (my Umma loves to remind me this when she used to wake me up at six in the morning on the weekends for tutoring). My Appa was there by my Umma’s side and from what I’ve heard, the delivery went well. She did it all naturally and vaginally (don’t ask me if she had any tears because I haven’t asked her and I don’t really want to ask her). She had a midwife but did call in another doctor because apparently my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck? Apart from that, I was a healthy newborn size. I was five pounds and seven ounces, and nineteen centimetres (7.5 inches). Nothing out of the ordinary.
  
  
  

  How has your living situation changed from when you were born economically, socially, and geographically?​

  
  My living arrangements have been the same for a large majority of my life. We lived in Dallas for the first two years of my life before moving back to South Korea to spend time with my grandfather who was very sick. We ended up living with my grandfather in Ulsan for two and a half years, with my parents helping him in his final days. Once he passed away, we ended up moving back to Dallas. Economically, we’ve always had a very stable income coming into the house. Both my parents were mature when I was brought into the world (my Umma had just celebrated her 40th birthday three days before giving birth), so they had an established career and savings placed aside. Also, when my grandfather died, he left inheritance in his will to my Umma. Looking at our social circles, my parents are devoted Catholics, so when we spent time with other families, it was either with family from church, or we were at church.
  
  
  

  What occupation did your parents have when you were born? ​

  
  Both of my parents are doctors. My Appa is a neuro-surgeon and my Umma is a local GP doctor. Not only that, by my grandfather on my Umma's side and my grandmother on my Appa's side were very respected doctors in small towns they grew up in. Growing up, I was practically raised to become a doctor. I had no choice. My parents had huge expectations for me being a doctor, and if I didn’t meet those standards, I was often disciplined.
  
  
  

  How many siblings do you have? ​

  
  I don’t have any siblings. I’m an only child and from the sounds of it, I wasn’t a planned child either. Both of my parents are very work-orientated. My Umma was forty when she gave birth to me and my Appa was thirty-nine. They were both very mature, and so I suppose my arrival into the world wasn’t something they had planned for their future. My Appa also had a vasectomy when he was thirty; which, you know, it’s questionable. Like, is he my real father? According to my parents, he is. And after some research, I did find out that there is a 2-10/1,000 chance of getting pregnant even if your partner has a vasectomy – that’s less than 1% chance. I suppose my Appa had some strong swimmers.
  
  
  

  Were you a good student in school?​

  
  

  I tried to be. School was hard. My parents had such a great expectation for my grades, that if I came home with a lower grade than their expectations, I would often be disciplined for it. I would have my laptop, phone or PlayStation taken away until I came back with a better grade. If my grades didn’t get better, it would often lead to a good old smackdown with any item that was closeby (like a broom or a wooden spoon) or a traditional Korean punishment of having to hold my arms up in the air as high as a could until my parents said I could put them down again.
  
  My biggest issue with school was I was finding it hard to name letters, symbols, words, or any objects with a quick manner like the other children in the class could. I felt like I was so much slower than everyone and would often feel inadequate. It wasn’t until I started studying medicine that I self-diagnosed myself with Rapid Automatized Naming Dyslexia, which causes you to struggle to retrieve information and causes a slow processing speed. My parents would often say that I was just lazy; mainly because I was too afraid to tell them that I was struggling. To keep on top of my grades, I would often study twice or three times the amount the other children in class would. I had tutors help me on the weekends and some weeknights also. This didn’t leave much time for friends outside of school, so I mainly kept to myself apart from a handful of people that I would see both at school and at church.
  
  
  

  What kind of friends did you have?​

  
  I wasn’t extremely close with anyone apart from my girlfriend, Eve. I met Eve at church with my parents, before I discovered that she actually attended my school too. The next school year, she was in a couple of my classes and eventually, we began to date. But in secret, because both our parents were very anti-dating while at school. But being with Eve allowed both of our friendship circles to open up. I don’t talk to any of them anymore, but I do have them on Facebook and Instagram, so I know what they’re up to these days
  
  
  

  What was the stupidest thing you did growing up?​

  
  

  I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff at school with my friends, like making small balls our of wet toilet paper and then throwing it up to hit the ceiling. It would stick and eventually, after a year, we managed to cover half the boy’s bathrooms with basically paper mache from the toilet paper and water. You know, dumb teenage stuff you’d do when you’re bored or looking for something to do.
  
  I do remember, though, when I was little (probably around six or seven), I thought ants came from sugar. My reason behind that hypothesis was because every time I spilled something sugary, ants would just show up. My little mind was amazed by it and curious. So, to test things out, I poured some sugar on my Appa’s head while he was napping on the couch. There were no ants and no ants came. Not only was I confused (because I was so sure that the ants would come), my Appa woke up just as confused to why there was sugar in his hair and all over his face.
  
  
  

  If you could name the worst moment of your life, what would it be? ​

  
  The worst moment I think would have the time my parents found out about Eve and I. I was sixteen at the time and had been stupid enough to leave the wrapper of the condom we used in my jeans pocket (here’s the real kicker; I had placed it in my pocket because we were in a hurry and we didn’t want to throw the wrapper out in her rubbish bin, so I had been planning on throwing it out at the shops but obviously forgot about it). My Umma was washing my clothes and found the wrapper. She went through my phone and found that I had been texting Eve and forgot to delete a text here I told her I loved her.
  
  Umma then called up Eve’s family and told them everything that happened. They all came over and proceeded to spend the next two hours, yelling and screaming at Eve and me. Saying how we were no longer pure in the eyes of God and how they’ve broken their trust. And, as old fashion Korean parents do, they physically disciplined us. Eve and her family moved churches and school after that night and I haven’t spoken to Eve since. She was the love of my life, and I just couldn't understand how my parents were so against us being together. I mean, we were happy together. Was that so wrong? Apparently, it was.
  
  
  

  Which occupation did you want to be in growing up? ​

  
  

  When I was younger, I was really interested in cameras and filming. My parents wouldn’t let me have my own camera, saying it was too expensive. The only reason I had a PlayStation was because I won it in a school fair raffle. I suppose it would explain my love and a slight addiction to Tik Tok. I really enjoy making videos and doing gameplay videos. But the only reason I became a doctor was because it’s what my parents wanted. After the Eve incident, they told me that if I didn’t start behaving and follow their expectations, they would send me to live on my Aunty’s farm in Korea.
  
  I wish I could say I fell in love with the idea of becoming a doctor. But then I’d be lying. Many people ask me ‘why don’t you just leave your parents? You’re old enough to not take orders from them’. But the fact is, they’re my parents. They just want what’s good for me. All the screaming and hitting, it was a lead up to a future that they had planned for me. And it’s a future where I’ll be well off and able to care for my wife, children and the generations afterwards.
  
  
  

  Are there any aspects of your past that you keep secret?​

  
  I don’t like to talk much about my parents, or their approach to my life. Some people in the past have told me to leave or to tell the police because it’s ‘abuse’. What people fail to see is that my parents just want what’s best for me. I might not want to be a doctor now, but in the future, it’ll do me good. It’ll give me a stable income and opens doors to incredible career opportunities. I really do hope that one day I end up loving being a doctor as much as my parents do. The other thing people don’t realise is how Korean families discipline. If we lived in Korea, this would be absolutely normal. My parents would tell me of the things that they used to get in trouble for and how they were disciplined. This is nothing compared to how they discipline me.
  
  
• personality type: INTJ-T (Architect)
  
  
  mind: introverted.
  

  
  energy: intuitive
  

  
  nature: thinking.
  

  
  tactics: judging.
  

  
  identity: turbulent.
  

  
  
  Do you have any physical ailments which may affect your studying experience?​

  
  From what I can think of, I don’t have any physical ailments. I do, however, may sort of… suffer sometimes… of… uh… erectile dysfunction. It’s a bit embarrassing, to be honest. But it’s not all the time though! I mean, I’m probably just really stressed out or something. But sometimes, when I’m… you know… having some ‘me time’ in the shower… it takes a while to finish. In fact… sometimes I don’t even get to finish. It can be super frustrating because you just want to… finish… and you can’t.
  
  
  

  Do you have any mental ailments?​

  
  I’ve self-diagnosed myself with Rapid Automatized Naming Dyslexia. Basically, I struggle to retrieve information and have a slow processing speed compared to others. It’s improved over the years with a lot of self-help therapy. Not to mention… I do tend to get sad from time to time. I mean, if I get overwhelmed, I tend to cry. There’s nothing better than coming home from a long and stressful day, and having a good cry as you fall asleep. Am I right? I'm not depressed or anything. Just... sad. And exhausted... all the time...
  
  
  

  Do you have any allergies?​

  
  I was never one of those ‘cool kids’ with an allergy. Seriously. You go on school excursions and there’d be a teacher who had a massive bag of just all these EpiPens and first aid kits because every child was allergic to something. I mean… eggs make my fart smell really bad? But the only thing I can think of that gives me any sort of reaction
  
  
  

  What are your sleeping habits? On a scale of one to ten, how well rested do you feel in the morning?​

  
  I don’t sleep really well. I tend to wake up in the middle of the night if I do fall asleep. In total, on a good night, I probably get three or four hours of sleep. But, when I wake up in the morning, I feel exhausted still – so, I’m about a three out of ten? I’m throwing it up to stress. I really should try and get a better sleep pattern going. But with working at the hospital, I don’t think it’s going to work out. I really do hope that I get late shifts soon, though; I’m a moon child. I excel in between the hours of 1am and 4am. My brain is just pure gold and magic, and I get so motivated during that time of day.
  
  
  

  What are your eating habits?​

  
  I like to think that I eat fairly well. I'm not a picky eater and will eat just about anything you put down in front of me. My Umma makes breakfast and dinner every day for us all, and it’s always a Korean dish. The only time I’ll eat something that isn’t Korean is when I’m out and about by myself, and I have to buy my own lunch or something. I think I’ll have fast food maybe… once a month or every two months? I don’t particularly miss it. Oh, and I love spicy food. Give me a ghost pepper and I’ll gladly chew on that bad boy.
  
  
  

  What are your exercise habits?​

  
  I make sure to try and get at least thirty minutes of exercise every day. I primarily try to do it when I wake up. Just some stretches or if I have time, go for a quick jog around the block. On my days off, I like to go for hikes (my Umma is a hiking fanatic and so we used to go hiking all the time when I was a child). I’m able to perform the beep test with flying colours. So, I suppose I’m good?
  
  
  

  How is your emotional stability?​

  
  I took the Emotional Stability Test one day because… well, I was bored and had nothing better to do apparently. Anyways, I scored a 38 out of 100. Apparently, that’s bad. They say the neutral score is 60 and that indicates a tendency towards emotional stability. However, below 60 indicates a tendency away from emotional stability. But the test has got to be wrong, right? I mean, the website had Google Ads on it and a thousand pop-ups.
  
  
  

  What is your blood type?​

  
  I have an AB+ blood type, which is apparently very good because it’s universal. If you’re bleeding out, I’m the man to save you. In Korea, people are super big on blood type personalities. So, for me, my blood type says I’m either a genius of a psycho. Basically, it says I’m unpredictable (often jumping around from one activity to the next) and my personality changes depending on my mood and situation. I’m rational thinking and cannot stand it when the situation is irrational. Therefore, it can be difficult to interact with people as others think I'm moody or two-faced. And you know what – that’s so me.
  
  
  

  Do you use recreational and/or long-term medicinal drugs? If yes, how often?​

  
  Suprisingly, no. I haven't tried any recreational drugs nor have had to go on any long-term medication. Lucky me, I suppose?
  
  
  

  Do you drink alcohol? If yes, how often?​

  
  I do like to socially drink. If I'm with friends, I'll have a glass or two. Apart from rice wine and Soju, I also really enjoy cider beer. I don't drink often as I never drink around my parents, and I don't get invited out to parties or meetups as much as I'd like to. And... sometimes I like to drink by myself. If I can't sleep, I tend to drink instead to try and help me sleep.
  
  
  

  Do you smoke? If yes, how often?​

  
  No. Never once. I have never touched a cigarette and I don't think anyone should. My grandfather died of lung cancer caused by smoking. Because of his smoking habits, I never had the opportunity to know him properly. The only pictures I have with him are ones where he's on his death bed; It would've been nicer to remember him in a different light.
  
  

playing: trauma by nf

 

[NoQuillToLive]

Isebella Saeli

My Fault

"Stick with what we got, but I want more and I know that's my fault."​

Name: Isa, Belle or nicknamed as "B" sometimes.
Age: July the fifth / around the age of twenty-three
Sexuality; Bisexual
Faceclaim: Chonnasorn Sajakul
Race: Taiwanese American
Diagnosed with; Body dysmorphia / Dissociation / Insomnia / Narcissistic personality

Appearance; Isabella is young and vibrant, complimented by a pallet of seamlessly ending colours and vivacious shades. She's a rainbow without an end, sometimes clashing and sometimes, blending into what she prefers to be vintage looks or otherwise, very much out there with her style— the need to stand out is a complex she struggles with visually and emotionally, but her outlet seems to ber clothing and overall physical expression. She's a slender young woman, with slightly defined curved hips and long legs, standing around five foot eight in age, an active lifestyle has maintained what little shape she's managed to work out with.

Brown/blonde hair is a little more subdued for Isabella, muted colour that provides the perfect backdrop for her main feature to shine— clothing/accessories, hanging down to her shoulders and straightened, wrangling her tresses together to be semi-neat. casual / punk / summer wear / day wear

Personality: Isabella tends to project that "quirky theatre girl persona," defined by her interests and what she thinks might make her stand out, doing everything to separate herself from the word of boring— outlandish and somewhat crazy with her tastes and overall definition. She's incredibly emotional where she's concerned, inherently selfish and fixated on her looks, a complexity in vanity to always appear stylish or noticeable. She's nice with an edge— she's only nice to people who she thinks can boost her image, and with that edge, reveals a somewhat manipulative girl, tormented by her own insecurities and fears, subsequently what led to her insomnia. She's got a love and hate relationship with her life, feeling it's her fault she hasn't done anything so far and that her lack of success is chalked up to that. Only in recent years, she's been pushing harder and harder, to be notorious and remembered for something— anything.

She's also obsessed with the world of theatre and acting, dramatics, a girl with a million emotions and with the capacity that is brimming. It's hard to say if this is a genuine love or a love that was born from her panic. Something is gripping about a performance that can just captivate you and Isabella yearns to emulate that— something she fails, utterly so. All the praise of her younger years tends to rattle in her head, losing her spark that had driven her was painful for Isabella. Her very own ego had shattered at the thought of being plain and thus, what drove her to the opposite extremes, wanting attention.


Likes; Pretty clothing, social media, her phone, expensive items/accessories, brand-name and getting compliments, acting, cheesy romcoms, drama tv shows.

Dislikes; Lies [ironic] people more pretty than her, dissociating, the shade orange, animals, anything too bitter, dirt.

Hobbies; A daily poster, parties, nail art, theatre, interested in acting and singing, hair, makeup,


--

Backstory:
A picturesque life was never going to be a certainty for anyone and Isabella fell short of a few shades to make a happy one. A bitter beginning wasn't in the cards— but a single mother in the tendrils of chaos meant that Isa, from early on she was left alone and with her own devices. Raised by a narcissistic mother, pushing all her dreams and aspirations onto Isabella, pushed to become a reflection of her ideas and wants. She was pushed into acting classes, pageants, beauty contests, a parade where she was physically the centre of attraction and firmly believed that Isabella had "That something special," and combed with a few snippets of success only served to make that narrative more toxic. By the age of five, she knew how to walk but she was a quiet girl, wrapped up in the whims of her mother, every night was routines, how to do this and how to do that, spent between the sewing machine and glittery accessories. Her mother was so undoubtedly convinced that Isabelle could become something, and in this turn created a complexity.

Her appearance is what mattered— that was firmly cemented in her brain, that she grew to resent being plain and developed a complicated relationship with vanity and her perceptions. A round of success between the ages of seven and nine meant that Isabella was hitting new heights and she was rolling around in the attention, even have a minor newspaper interview. However, coming into her teens, all that success had simply vanished — her experience and training weren't enough to clutch a win.

It seemed that Isabelle was just average, and her mother grew less dependant on making sure she was supposed to win. However, the damage was done and laid out the foundation of where Iseballe herself became obsessed with the idea she wasn't plain and that was her fault, this was her fault she didn't do enough to secure them any wins. It was her fault they lived in that dingy apartment and that her father left. Her teens and up were a trying time for her; she was a mixture of mean and vulnerable, insecurity that smudged across her face like mascara. Her penchant for being mean was neatly tied into her barbed insults, compliments, she broke down others so she could feel whole and in turn, viewed that her success was down to how she looked. She wanted to have attention all on her again, but she was isolated in those thoughts, alien, this wasn't just an egotistical view. She was separated in her view, a confliction of where she was selfish and yet — this was her fault.

Breaking into the acting scene was a new focus, attending college for that reasoning alone, drama, participating in the drama shows and trying to everything in her power to get the numbers on social media. Her entire life became consumed with wanting to be recognized she was indeed pretty, how her relationships never lasted, she was focused inherently on herself. No matter what she did, Isabelle couldn't escape those moments on her bathroom floor, hating every single feature she possessed and in those moments, she either dissociated or panicked. She wants to be so much more, so much more than the ugly emotions of feeling worthless and that she does have something, indeed, a value that she is unique and beautiful — a duality of self-love and hate that makes a young woman who cannot sleep most nights.
.

NOTES;
X She's never had a fully functioning relationship, deemed too high maintenance and too much of an emphasis on how she looks.

X Her insomnia has gotten worse, as of late, struggling to sleep through the night and obsessed with scrolling through social media.

X She's never achieved more than a C+ in her life.

X She was a popular mean girl, 'quirky' is what she labels herself as, but in reality, she doesn't seem to see herself as a clone copy of that. Berating others and using whatever to her whims to boost her appearance.

coded by natasha.

 

[triples]

• 01
• 02
• 03
• 04

• Name: Nicolai A. Lander
  N.names: Nick/Nico
  Gender: Male
  Age: 22
  Sexuality: Bisexual
  P.O.B: Orlando, Florida
  D.O.B: 31 January
  Role: Survivor's Guilt
  

  .

  Height: 181cm | 6'0"
  Weight: 170lbs | 76kg
  Eyes: Blue
  Hair: Natural Black
  Mods: Ear Piercings
  Face Claim: Froylan Gutierrez

  .Occupation: College Student (Major in Economics)
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• Introduction: Likable, popular and apparently without a care in world, Nicolai Lander is the type of guy that hung out with that clique in high school but was still chill enough to get along with everyone else. The kind of guy that gets called handsome by both old ladies from the neighborhood and girls in the club. The kind that gets invited to hyped-up poolside parties or dramatic road trips with all the other basic, beautiful, privileged people — in other words, not to suspicious therapy groups. But alas, here he is, for reasons worse than what others might guess. Because, as anyone who's read enough books or watched enough shows will know, the most perfect-seeming people tend to also be the most messed up in the head.
  
  Virtues:
  i. Friendly | Approachable | Helpful
  Nico makes you want to ask him for directions to the library. The last thing people might think about him on first impression is that he's intimidating or cold. That's the sort of friendly he is; easy to talk to and quick to offer help. Rarely would you see him ever getting aggressive or being rude to someone else, being someone that most would associate with a warm smile.
  
  ii. Tactful | Perceptive
  His ability to get along with practically anyone, regardless of the other party's personality or interests, can be attributed to his impressive tact when dealing with people. Able to see other's people lines and understand how not to cross them, even if Nico can't boast having more friends than the average person, he definitely can claim to have had much fewer enemies in his lifetime.
  
  iii. Self-Controlled | Diligent | Patient
  Nico has an amount of self-control that few people his age can lay claim to and is usually able to follow long-term plans as well as keep within self-imposed restrictions well, whether it's diets, exercise routines or just not getting angry at irritating people. Short-term loss for long-term benefit is a line of thinking he stands by — with the notable exception of his unfortunate addiction to sleeping pills.
  
  Vices:
  i. Insecure | Sensitive
  Nico's outward confidence is, as a lot of his persona is, a shield. He's an odd type of insecure: he doesn't doubt his own strength, logic or ability and doesn't expect others to, either. His personality, on the other hand, is a whole other matter. He thinks of himself as a horrible person and, hence, naturally believes that others will, too, if they really knew him. This makes him particularly careful to keep up a pleasant image and very sensitive toward any hint that others see through that mask.
  
  ii. Self-Preserving | Ignoble
  Contrary to his typical generosity, when it really comes down to important decisions, Nico is someone that would put himself above others. Whether it's himself or his loved ones, he prizes their happiness and health over anything else; he would choose the good of the important few over the good of the whole without hesitation.
  
  iii. Distrustful | Secretive | Occasionally Dishonest
  Nico doesn't keep many people close — he keeps them at what he feels is the right distance. He has many friends to drink & have fun with and none to talk about feelings to; his fear of vulnerability and many secrets make sure of this. He's also someone who can smile perfectly innocently while lying straight to your face, though he doesn't often have malicious intentions behind this and usually only means to protect himself.
  
  

  .

  Likes:
  > Swimming
  > String Lights
  > Big Dogs
  > Acoustic Music
  > Playing Guitar
  > Nonsensical Humor
  

  .

  Dislikes:
  > Being Alone
  > Being In Crowds
  > Complete Darkness
  > Horror Movies
  > Using Violence
  > Threats
  

  
  

  .

  Ailments:
  > Claustrophobia (Intensified After Trauma)
  > Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (Comorbid)
  > Chronic Insomnia | Sleep Paralysis
  > Addiction to Prescription Pills
  

  .

  
  

  .

  Fears:
  > Being stuck in a locked room + small spaces.
  > Being exposed and vulnerable in front of others.
  

  .

  
  

  .

  Habits:
  > Daydreaming
  > Biting his lips & inner cheek
  > Not speaking when upset or angry
  

  .
• BEFORE IT ALL​

  Nicolai Orvis had a pretty normal childhood, with perhaps a little more luxury than average. His family was the poorest one in the richest part of the city, able to stay there only through his father's seemingly endless hard work. As a result, his friends were all rather spoiled brats, but also the kings & queens of the mini-society called school. While they considered him one of them, Nico, having a clear understanding of his family's status, didn't feel like it. Because of that, he didn't always stick to them, liking to mingle with other kids as well. This made him one of the most popular kids around, with a reputation for being nice, kind and so on — a status well-deserved in everyone but Nico's own eyes. In other's opinion, he was someone that belonged everywhere. In his, he didn't really belong anywhere.
  
  His closest friend during this time was Jesse Privet, who was a persona rather contrary to Nico's: extremely rich, with an ego as big as his father's company, and who had about as much consideration toward others as a baseball bat. Despite his questionable personality, however, Jesse, in his own, often misguided way, treated Nico extremely well. They'd known each other since kindergarten, after all. Nico sometimes felt slighted by Jesse's patronizing attitude but, all the same, they were best friends. He thought Jesse was, deep inside, really a better person than he was. The other boy had a good heart and was, at the least, very honest. He wasn't sure he could say the same for himself.
  
  

  The Kidnapping​

  It was Jesse's birthday and they had Mr. Privet's permission to do whatever they wanted at the family's secluded holiday cabin. It was him, Jesse and two other boys, all thirteen or fourteen years old. There were barely any other houses nearby, with most that were there being empty. They were going to stay there for the night, and a driver would pick them up the next morning. Nico personally thought it was almost definitely a bad idea to let them roam that free, but he'd kept his mouth shut seeing how excited the others were.
  
  They'd had fun the whole day and, when the day got a little dark, spent some time exploring the other cabins, turning the quiet little woods into a not-so quiet place. Again another bad idea, alerting anyone around that they were there, but this was a point even Nico missed in the process of messing around. They returned to settle down in their own cabin. He forgot what time that was. It wasn't late at night, he knows. For all their bravado, none of them really dare to be out & about in the dark forest. They'd drank alcohol they found in a cabinet or other — too much of it. Everyone was knocked out. That was when the men came in.
  
  He doesn't remember exactly the process of what happened. His therapist says it's because of the overwhelming nature of the events or something. He was hazy on how they ended up in that dark, cramped space. How those men had appeared. How they'd been taken. What had been done to them. When? Why? Who? The more he tried to think of it, the worse the migraine becomes. Everything was blurry. He just knows it wasn't a fun time.
  
  What he does remember, excruciatingly clearly, are two things. One: the two kidnappers, how one had been this strict, intimidating man and the other a maniac. He was fairly sure the former had been the mastermind, because the unhinged one seemed too drugged off their mind to think of any substantial plan. He remembers hearing what they said over the phone, talking to Jesse's parents. That they had twelve hours. Three for each boy. The last to die, if the twelfth hour hit and they still hadn't received the money they wanted, was Jesse.
  
  The men kept their promise. The maniac dragged Liam out first, kicking and screaming. Then Philip. All the while, Nico & Jesse had sat in the corner, tied up and terrified. They could hear it; their friend dying. It didn't sound like an easy death. Nico was sure it was a painful one, in fact, because the maniac was not just high but also obviously a sadistic freak. How was Nico so sure of that? He couldn't really remember. Again, his therapist tells him, it must have been something too horrible to remember. His mind must have been protecting him.
  
  Nico knows his mind did protect him. But not in that way. That 's the second thing he remembers: that he had made a choice to protect himself.
  
  Jesse had fell asleep from the exhaustion but Nico couldn't follow suit. There was no way he could. He was next. There were no clocks in the room but he could hear the ticking all the same: the countdown to his miserable end. The mastermind had been nowhere to be found, and the maniac was pacing the room. For some reason, the man looked uncharacteristically somber — he would later find out that this was because the man's partner had been arrested already, while somewhere in the outside world.
  
  As time passed, their remaining kidnapper seemed to be getting increasingly anxious. His eyes kept wandering to the duo of boys, as if trying to figure out something. Then, much sooner than he expected, the man walked over to him, heaving him up by the collar. Nico's heart dropped to the ground. But, instead of pulling him outside, the man instead growled out a question: "What's your name?". That stunned Nico for all but a second. His gaze flickered to his sleeping friend for the briefest moment. Then he turned back and answered.
  
  "Jesse."
  
  A few minutes later, Jesse was gone. An hour later, the sound of sirens echoed through the dark room. The maniac had pulled Nico out, gun to his head. I have the boy, the man had screamed, I have your fucking son. He could only imagine what the kidnapper would have thought if they realized they, in fact, didn't. The last thing he heard from that day was the sound of a gunshot, before Nico finally slept.
  
  

  The Aftermath​

  He woke up in the hospital, his mother crying at his side. Their kidnapping had, inevitably, gone famous through the whole country. People had leaked his details, along with everyone else involved. The moment he'd walked out his hospital room, there were people asking him questions. What happened? Was he okay? And, the question that haunted Nico most: why was it him & not Jesse that made it out alive?
  
  The event pulled his family out by the roots. They had to move across the country. Nico had to change his last name to his mother's maiden name to avoid being identified. For months afterward, the atmosphere in their house was full of painful tension as his parents struggled to tread softly around their only son and took out the stresses of circumstance on each other. Nico spent those months in a state of complete breakdown.
  
  He saw ghosts in his room. He heard voices in his head. His reflection in the mirror became warped. He had periods of missing memory and times when he felt like his soul had left his body — literally. He became scared of sleeping, knowing he'd be haunted in the dark. His own guilt was eating him up alive, slowly but surely. He kept thinking the worst of himself. Why had he answered how he did? He had saved himself so... unhesitatingly. How could he have so quickly, so easily, so apathetically lied? Didn't he want Jesse to die? He must have. He must've been jealous. He must've hated Jesse for being better off. Weren't there times where he resented Jesse's attitude? Weren't there moments where he wished Jesse would shut up? He must've been acting all this time, secretly loathing his own best friend. He did it on purpose. He didn't just let his friends die, he killed them.
  
  His parents sent him to therapy, but it didn't help much. Or, rather, it couldn't, because Nico never told the truth. The therapist wasn't a god, she could only help him through traumas they knew about. She tried her best to get him over his newly reinforced phobia, so he could finally take elevators again without melting down. She talked him through the symptoms of PTSD and how to slowly overcome them, so he could regain some semblance of normality. But his all-devouring guilt was still there, untouchable in the depths of his mind.
  
  About two years after the incident, Nico was finally able to go back to school and live on like a normal human being. Having seen how his episode of instability horrified his parents, he tried his best to suffocate his issues, hoping against hope that pretending they didn't exist would make them go away. Unfortunately, if anything, that just made things worse. The only way that he could cull the dark thoughts reigning his mind was with medication, a fact that he quickly developed a habit of abusing.
  
  While he never dared to take too much of his antidepressants or pain killers, sleeping pills were another matter entirely. It didn't take long for him to develop what he's reluctantly accepted is an addiction to them, getting serious enough over time that withdrawal symptoms would hit if even one day goes by without them. He binged on them because they helped him relax, but lately he's found that they're more so a source of tension. He's been getting less and less sleep lately. Added to the stress of college, he's been slowly edging toward another breakdown, the reason why he agreed to the invitation he received, despite being wary.
  
• Trevor J. Orvis (49) — Father
  They've never been particularly close, but Trevor is as good a father as he can be while being as busy as he is. Nico used to resent that his dad never showed up to soccer games or parent-teacher meetings, but he's learnt to get over it.
  
  

  Leana M. Lander-Orvis (47) — Mother
  The most important person in Nico's life and also the person he's most scared would find out about all his faults. In Leana's eyes, Nico might be a distant son despite her constant efforts. But in Nico's, she's someone he needs to protect most.
  
  

  Amnesia (??) — ???
  Quisque vitae ex posuere, consectetur ligula at, tempor nunc. Mauris ut nunc non orci rutrum bibendum sit amet ut turpis. Nullam aliquam fermentum urna, in laoreet velit. Suspendisse finibus mauris in diam tristique, nec tempus quam vulputate.
  
  
  

  Family Ties (??) — ???
  Quisque vitae ex posuere, consectetur ligula at, tempor nunc. Mauris ut nunc non orci rutrum bibendum sit amet ut turpis. Nullam aliquam fermentum urna, in laoreet velit. Suspendisse finibus mauris in diam tristique, nec tempus quam vulputate.
  
  

  Criminal (??) — ???
  Quisque vitae ex posuere, consectetur ligula at, tempor nunc. Mauris ut nunc non orci rutrum bibendum sit amet ut turpis. Nullam aliquam fermentum urna, in laoreet velit. Suspendisse finibus mauris in diam tristique, nec tempus quam vulputate.
  
  
  

  Grief Beyond (??) — ???
  Quisque vitae ex posuere, consectetur ligula at, tempor nunc. Mauris ut nunc non orci rutrum bibendum sit amet ut turpis. Nullam aliquam fermentum urna, in laoreet velit. Suspendisse finibus mauris in diam tristique, nec tempus quam vulputate.
  
  

  My Fault (??) — ???
  Quisque vitae ex posuere, consectetur ligula at, tempor nunc. Mauris ut nunc non orci rutrum bibendum sit amet ut turpis. Nullam aliquam fermentum urna, in laoreet velit. Suspendisse finibus mauris in diam tristique, nec tempus quam vulputate.
  
  

BAS

PER

HIST

REL

..

code by RI.a

 

[kikuQ]

code by @fudgecakez

───────── ⋅ ✧ ⋅ ─​

Silas.​

─────────────

name ─⋅✧

Silas Oliviera

age ─⋅✧

25

d.o.b ─⋅✧

July 23rd

zodiac ─⋅✧

Leo

gender ─⋅✧

Male

sexuality ─⋅✧

Bisexual

occupation ─⋅✧

Digital calligrapher / graphic designer

appearance ─⋅✧

Slender and willowy of build, encroaching on skinny, underweight. 6'1. Warm chocolate brown eyes and richly brown curly hair, with a matching beard. His skin is a light caramel-brown in tone.

faceclaim ─⋅✧

Marlon Teixeira

───────── ⋅ ✧ ⋅ ─​

Amnesia.​

─────────────

personality ─⋅✧

Silas' disposition is almost a contradiction of itself. He is a skittish man, constantly eyeballing his surroundings, his glance never far from those around him. An anxious appearance. But to those who approach him he can be seen as very warm and personable- he's very polite, and brings a certain sweetness to conversation that attracts others. Oddly, though, he is quite reluctant to reach out, but those who introduce themselves to him will find a surprisingly charismatic man; a good conversationalist. He's kind, almost to a fault, and will offer a hand to anyone that needs help. When he speaks, he offers a bubbly and bright energy to the room, filling the air, radiating light. His words can seem very strange, however- he speaks uncommonly flowery in structure and turn of phrase. In fact, it's almost clear that he hasn't had much interaction with others as of late. As such, he flounders when he's the center of attention.

Silas is a dreamer, and a lover of poetry and romance (though that doesn't exactly mean that he chases after new partners). It is the concept of romance and his idealized visions of love that attract Silas; he finds comfort in the feelings of longing he has for that which is beautiful. This doesn't mean he's actively searching for a new partner- no, he believes love must develop organically. Not only does he love romance in the literal sense of the word, he also has a fondness for "romantic" scenes and imagery. A glass of rose, a night spent by a welcoming fire, a physical letter instead of an e-mail, a quiet cafe. Gazing upon a field of fireflies. While he shows his appreciation for these items individually, he will never directly convey that his obsession lies in the beauty and poetry behind them.

In truth, while he seems very charming externally, he's very cagey and is reluctant to give a straight answer- this is something that others will discover quickly when talking to Silas, and causes many to dislike him. He's terrified of getting attached to anyone. Not a soul would consider Silas a friend, and that is exactly how he is content. After all, the last time he let someone get too close, an entire year of life was snatched away from him, leaving only confusion and pain in its wake. He will not let himself lose another year, he will not build upon the nightmares that strike him on the odd night that his consciousness fails to keep him awake. He will not let another person vanish.

He's an insomniac, but his lifestyle doesn't lend itself to helping him, either. Work will keep him up into the wee hours of the morning, but even then, Silas will distract himself with something else. There's a terrible slurry of depression, panic, and regret that washes over him when his mind is alone in the dark; when everything is too quiet to keep the gears of his head turning. With every effort, he will try to avoid this. He's never without a mug of black tea, nor will he part from any work that he receives. His perfectionism and reckless determination can keep him wrapped up in any project for days at a time. His mind is only relieved of its constant spinning when he physically exhausts himself, when he can't keep from sleeping for a second more.

Silas can obsess and wind himself around the fact that he lost an entire year of his life. Not only is he wrought with anxiety and panic when he tries to unearth any of the forgotten portraits of that year, but he believes he lost a part of himself within that time as well. There's a certain dysphoria that comes with memory fragmentation, with the fear that your entire person will slip away into oblivion and return with more debilitating baggage.

likes ─⋅✧

Tea

Wine

Stationary

Comfortable clothing

Uber Eats

dislikes ─⋅✧

Social media

Being the center of attention

Attending events

Coffee

Bitter foods in general

───────── ⋅ ✧ ⋅ ─​

A world chopped in two.​

─────────────

history ─⋅✧

A boring but successful childhood. A wild stretch of teenage shenanigans, through high school and beyond. The most passionate, fiery, explosive love of a lifetime. And then a break, a void, a searing pain accompanied by horrific nightmares and terrible panic.

Silas' childhood was uneventful to say the least. His family was about average in income, settled in a modest but functional home in northern Maine. He had a mother and father that were strict but well-intentioned and kind. They never did much that stuck in his head, that played back in his mind often. His older brother, Michael, was something of a bully- but not uncommonly so, he was most definitely not abusive and deep down Michael loved his baby brother. Silas has a tendency to reflect on the past quite often- treasuring his existing memories while he still can, afraid that they'll be stolen from him too. Even though they were bland and not worthy of much thought, he often takes the time to comb through his past and treasure anything he can dig from the recesses of his mind.

A mischievous and curious child grew into a troublemaking teen. Silas was quite socially adept, and had a large circle of friends that he'd maintained throughout his adolescent life. While he wasn't exactly a staple face in the partying scene, he made a habit of sneaking out with friends multiple times a week. He was a piece of many groups and cliques, with only one thing in common: they were rarely up to something their parents would approve of. Things like sneaking into campsites to smoke bud, tagging one of the school sheds with a phallic illustration. Wandering into the woods to start the biggest bonfire Houlten High had ever seen (thankfully, they avoided burning down an entire forest).

One girl was almost always by his side on his nighttime excursions- but what was her name. A becoming girl with porcelain skin and tresses of brassy red waves. She had a tendency to be quiet, but was usually the instigator of their troublemaking. It was by her suggestion that he'd begun to skip school, instead favoring flying rides through the thick of pine woods, redhead at his side. They grew incredibly close- Silas' outgoing nature and persistence was a perfect compliment to her shadowy brilliance. They found themselves spending less and less time in their groups, preferring the company of strictly each other. They were a perfect Bonnie and Clyde; and Silas was certain he was in love with her. But Bonnie went through boyfriends like changes of clothes, leaving Silas at the sidelines. But he was plainly content to be at her side, to love her from afar, to enjoy her presence without needing his love to be returned. She seemed to love him as a friend, anyway.

They decided to attend the same local community college together. They would not let themselves be apart, even if they were only platonically bonded. Their daily lives continued much the same; though they'd lost quite a lot of their fellow troublemakers as they pursued their own dreams: the military, prestigious colleges, an early start in their field. Perhaps some of them deemed that delinquentship was candidly not their life's desire. These days living beside the one that brought him the most joy are the ones he remembers the most fondly, even if he knew not her name.

Bonnie and Clyde were joined at the hip; only parted whenever her boyfriend at the time would get jealous and demand that Silas get out of the picture. But they'd always join back together, reconnected in their perpetual orbit. Truly, Silas was oblivious to Bonnie's returned love for him. He only got a clue when he strung together that she'd break up with any man before he got too close, or any time said boyfriend "requested" that she stopped hanging out with him. It was the beginning of their senior year and Silas was on the path to a bachelor's in graphic design- but at this point he'd been consumed by his feelings for Bonnie, and the thought that he might finally have a shot of having her to his own. One night spent in a quiet parking lot glimmering with fireflies, and finally, their planets collided.

Things begin to crumble apart after that. He gets flashes of specific moments- a night at the beach, heated by their bodies. Passionate night after passionate night. Caramel-colored hands running through those brassy locks. Warmth, sweat, his heart swelling and thundering and feeling like it was about to burst.

If these memories were spotty, what followed was pitch black. Nothing. A year and two months were snatched from under his nose. He awoke one day in an unfamiliar apartment; one moldy and crowded and messy. He tried to recall the day before- to no avail. The pain had yet to start, he was convinced he'd perhaps had too much to drink the day before. But the day before that didn't come to him, nor did the day before. His heart was shaking, his hands following suit. He felt a burning, squeezing in his chest, an ache about the head as he tried and tried to unearth anything from the past few days. Days. He'd checked his phone, to find a very blank, fresh-from-the-factory screen staring back at him. He had no text history. Only one app that wasn't a default one- Uber Eats. He checked his contacts. He found only the numbers to his local hospital and the nearest Domino's Pizza.

A world was collapsing around Silas. He'd clawed his apartment from wall to wall for any signal of their contact. He came to realize that his life was no more. His parents were gone. His brother, his friends. He was crushed, tears burning in his eyes as he stared at the date. An entire year was gone. A year. He didn't recall his graduation. Nor his twenty-second birthday. Grief encircled him like strangling binds. Everyone he loved had vanished, he didn't know where he was. He phoned the number of his parent's house- but the woman who picked up was not his mother. She told him that Mr. and Mrs. Oliviera no longer lived there, and hung up.

The pain had wrested control of Silas and deprived him of life. He constrained himself to his home, throwing himself between the walls that were building around the life he'd lost. He would not know if or when his world would vanish again. He rarely wore anything more than pajamas, he never left his home. All the world saw of him was his greeting to those who delivered his food. His world shrank to the size of a one-bedroom apartment for six months, before the strangling nightmares finally prompted him to see a therapist over the phone.

"Why don't you write letters to them? It's a common way to get some closure for lost loved ones. Tell them what you wish you could tell them now. Say goodbye, maybe." Simultaneously the greatest and worst piece of advice he'd receive.

For six months, Silas hadn't had any purpose or direction. He slept through existence and ate whenever he remembered. With a task, with something to do, he threw himself into this work with surprising force. He wrote his letters. First to his mother, then his father, then Michael. It wrenched his gut and threw him into panic attacks, initially, as he tried to figure why they had vanished. But he continued, and he learned that he was far more content writing his letters as if the void had never devoured his twenty-first year. Poetic, figurative speech took the place where direct, therapeutic words had been. No longer did he sleep; when he wasn't on the phone with Dr. Carron or taking jobs as a digital calligrapher he would spend his time writing his letters. They'd pile and pile on his desk, at his feet, filling leaf after leaf of paper with stanza upon stanza.

Then the woman with red hair came back to him, and he threw himself into the pit of addiction even further. Love became his chosen topic, now. But he grew to accept that the redhead was a part of his past, an entity that no longer existed, a piece lost to time. He figured during his "blackout" that they'd somehow broken up, though he did wonder what became of her. He moved on.

 

[Senor_Fluffy]

• — 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚜.
• — 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊.
• — 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.
• — '𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜
• — 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎.

• 
  
  Name. Raimy Thomas
  Nickname. Ray
  Role. Criminal
  Sexuality. Straight?
  Gender. Cis man
  Race. African American
  Age. 28 years old
  Birthdate. April 21st | Taurus
• 
  
  Virtues. Observant, empathetic, good under pressure, determined.
  Vices. A decade of gang activity ranging anywhere from robbery and drug dealing to murder.
  Fatal flaw. Insincerity and defensiveness.
  Ailments. PTSD, fear of abandonment, impostor syndrome, insomnia.
  Likes. Coffee, hair, fashion, making people smile/laugh, music, street art, nice aesthetics, and feeling useful/appreciated.
  Dislikes. Being seen as vulnerable/weak, corruption, hypocrites, certain drugs, the government, reptiles, disrespect and insects.
  Overview. Raimy took it upon himself from an early age to always put on a carefree front. Learning by watching how those who kept their heart's on their sleeves were hurt. He is a social butterfly at heart who can read a room in a few moments and notice the tiniest hints of trouble. He doesn't take disrespect and betrayal lightly. Willing to step up when shit starts getting tense and return the peace or resolve the issue right then and there. He is larger than life in that he goes out of his way to make sure everyone is well off and enjoying themselves before worrying about himself. Almost always on alert whenever he is around other people just from habit. This leads to increasingly regular bouts of burnout when he can't keep it up anymore. Closing himself off in whatever space he has and shutting down completely and/or occasionally finding an outlet to take out his anger on in bursts.
  
  Raimy is loyal to the point that he has gotten himself into trouble time and time again. Now it takes quite a bit for him to truly be loyal to another person but when he does, there is little he won't do. He puts himself forth as confident and assured but recently has been more and more insecure in who he is and who he was. Deep down he is terrified that he will be found out to be a coward and a fraud. Just a damaged little boy no one wants, trying to be a reformed man he actually isn't. Unable to sleep at night, his front is prone to flipping on a coin whenever a sore subject is brought up. Leading to outbursts of aggression and defensiveness. Preferring to use the shame and resentment he has built up as his driving force instead of shedding light on them. He'd rather be caught dead than to be seen crying in front of anyone. Deep down believing if he ever did he'd be putting a bigger target on his back.
  
• 
  
  Childhood.
  Raimy's mother died of an overdose when he was 6. His father was never in the picture and so he went to live with his closest living relatives. That being with his aunt and her various boyfriends for many years. Sure, her taste in men was horrific but she was a good hardworking woman and worked several jobs trying to make ends meet. Even if she was never really around she was supportive and just doing her best. It wasn't entirely her fault he developed an overwhelming fear of abandonment and all the time in the world to his own devices.
  
  Teens.
  Often running away to couch surf, it was only a matter of when he'd find his place in the wrong crowd. By the time he was 13 he was desperate to make a name for himself and have one of these family's people keep talking about. He found a place in one of the worst gangs in his county. Eager to prove himself, he didn't hesitate to do anything. He stole, delivered, sold, bought, beat, and even eventually killed for his brothers. He went in and out of detention centers whenever he was caught. But that wouldn't stop him. The pride he felt when he was greeted with open arms and pleased grins was addictive. He was willing to die for his found family. Never a snitch. Just flashing a cheeky grin whenever someone started talking about shit they just didn't get. He was actually somebody who could do something with them.
  
  Adult.
  Even when he was a legal adult and his aunt cut him off for good, he didn't show any sign of stopping. He served time and when he was in prison he took off his shirt to show his tattoos with pride. He worked his way up the hierarchy. When he got out on early release at the age of 22, he went right back into the fray. At 24, he was involved in a shoot out that ended up with a nearby kid dead among others. Jaimy ended up getting shot in the thigh and breaking his femur. Unable to get away on his own he found himself abandoned as emergency vehicles arrived. Only just able to discard his own weapon in the sewer nearby before it could be used as evidence against him. Even still, he was carted off to the hospital in cuffs, none of his supposed brothers were there for him. Even after everything he had done for those he considered family, they left him on the street in a puddle of his own blood.
  
  Luckily, he was able to convince officials he was just a bystander who got caught up in it all. Even stooping so low as to trading information about those who had left him behind in order to get off Scott free for his existing warrants. But when he was eventually back on the streets, word had spread quickly and they put the pieces together. They found him and carved him up. He was lucky to leave with his life.
  
  He woke up in the hospital, alone, again. Left with the weight of a decade's worth of gang activity on his soul and a broken body.
  
  Luckily, he was put in contact with resources to turn his life around. It took him a while to heal physically, and still struggles mentally but it was a little easier when he moved as far away from it all. He dedicated himself to community service and got his GED. Deciding he'd do whatever he could to try and catch the kids who fell through the cracks. To stop anymore kids from ending up on the side of the street just as all too many others had, including him.
  
  Present.
  That's where we come to today, Jaimy is aspiring to get his Master's in Social Work, however he is struggling to function with his insomnia, among other mental issues. Even though he has been these the last 4 years, he can't help but see a criminal when he looks in the mirror. He hides his shame and puts on a smile. But when he is alone every night, it consumes him. Rarely ever outright mean, he is quick to put an arm around anyone who may need it but rarely allows anyone to see beneath that friendly surface. Genuinely believing most people have a decent core in them. He just cannot forgive himself for what he has done and wouldn't expect anyone to look at him with accepting eyes if they knew the filth on his hands.
  
• 
  
  Family ties. Tbd.
  Survivors guilt. Tbd.
  My faults. Tbd.
  Amnesia. Tbd.
  Grief Beyond. Tbd.
  Psychologists. Tbd.
  
• 
  
  Faceclaim. Cykeem White.
  Dist. features. Light skinned complexion. Almost always smiling when talking to other people. Well maintained, thin dreads. Multiple tattoos. From a bull on his left shoulder, a couple memorial pieces of those he has lost across his arms, a black band on his upper left forearm, to old English lettering on the back of his arms. The most noticeable on the off chance his shirt is off, is the damaged cross and gang affiliation across his right peck.
  Scars. Several stab wounds in his left side. Multiple scars which damage the tattoos across his right peck from when his former gang members tried to carve it off him. A gunshot wound in his right thigh along with a line running down it from the corrective surgery he had to fix the shattered bone.
  Eyes. Dark brown.
  Hair. Thin, black, 4c dreads that reach his chest.
  Height. 5'11' feet tall |180 cm
  Weight. 170 lbs | 77 kg
  Build. Average muscular.