Realistic or Modern The color of Vanilla {Trigger}

[caramel]

Make sure you read all tabs before posting a CS




As we all know, most realistic RP's are dominated by heterosexual females and that never works out well. So, this is how the process will work





I will be accepting, at the most , 6 females and, at the most, 6 males. However, your character must fit with the theme of the show. I want experienced role players who are able to convey genuine emotion and thought into their posts as well as incorporate the sensual, darker themes. This RP isn't strictly about post amount so 5+ paragraphs won't always guarantee you a spot. That said, if I don't accept you, that doesn't mean your character is bad and I hope there's no hard feelings

.
Name:


Age:


DOB:


Gender:


Sexuality:


Nickname:


Grade:


Fears:


Quirks:


Goals:


Addictions:


Home Life:


School Life:


* Include their clique*


Suicidal Tendencies ?:


How Often do they have sex ?:


Have they ever done drugs ? If so list them here:


Relationships:


Writing Sample:


* I'd prefer it to be from the characters POV*




FEMALES:


1. Johanna "Jo" Rinaldi : @incrusade


4. Camden "Cam" Rose Eckler: @QuixoticKitten (I hope you still have the time to join )


MALES:


1. Chandler Cassel: @Amora Aurora


2. Miroslav "Miro" Botíc: @Myrrh Scented


3. Florence "Floyd" Constantine : @boyguro




​

 

[Raerae]

Rae

​

"The concept you have about me won't change who I am, but it can change my concept about you"





no slide no slide

help but

Fears


Anthropophobia- Mostly social


Chronophobia- It's quite obvious time restrictions cause her stress.


Odontophobia- She hates everything dental related.


Emetophobia- Who wouldn't?


Stygiophobia- Obvious reasons.


Quirks


Biting her nails


Humming under pressure


Bobbing her leg, a near constant habit


Once in a while, she'll snort when she laughs


Goals


Find her place, find her purpose.


Addictions


Addicted to narcotics: Vicodin, mostly, though if she can't get a prescription, Rae will take aspirin, alieve, Tylenol- whatever stops the pain.


Home Life


Lives with her mother, and younger sister, in a middle class strat. With a family business (think Hallmark) just starting to take off. Lots of fighting, prejudice and gossip amidst relatives; she's always been the black sheep to them, mostly for her lack of interest in academics, any sports and anxiety in social situations. Her mother has clinical depression and rheumatoid arthritis, among other illnesses, that worry Rae on a daily basis; empathy wise, she also picks up on the pains, which makes it harder for her to focus.

it sure

School Life


Rae's raw by nature, and enjoys her solitude, usually roaming and merging with whomever fits her mood that day. She despises cliques and avoids them, prefering not to be a follower or a trender. She'd likely place herself in the same category as the addicts, the relatable, free spirits, and, at times, artsy students. She pokes her head in the chess and vintage club every now and then, but hasn't ever committed to any extra curricular additives, despite the half hearted promises.


Suicidal Tendencies ?:


Has been known to overdose, and had three, emergency room worthy scares, when mixing a heavy dosage of vicodin with alcohol.


Voices thoughts that are questionable and worrisome, as well as an unhealthy, misanthropic perspective. Though she dislikes life and is defiant with reality, Rae knows that she can keep going, that she can handle just about anything that life has to throw at her- that's the scary part.


How Often do they have sex ?


N/A


Have they ever done drugs ? If so list them here:


Non-smoker- She watched that stuff kill her aunt, and mess up her half brother.


Light drinker- Her father was an alcoholic, or so she's been told, so she strays from it.


Medical conditions:


Moderate anxiety


Clinical depression


Arthritis


Relationships


Floyd - They bonded over a really lame weekend their shared class dedicated to camping. While everyone else was roasting marshmallows and singing songs around the fire, these two were star gazing, exploring, and unknowingly creating a sibling like bond they'd never forget. He's the brother her actual siblings failed to be.


Will - Close, childhood friend until hardships at home put an unfortunate wedge between them. They're only just talking again after several years of distant hellos, Rae has a blatant adoration for him. Major shipping.


Lucy - Closest friend and bitch buddy, Rae loves this girl like a sister, has and will be always supportive and loyal.


Max - Guy she helps in art class. He's ambitious, and she admires that, but he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body! Just a whole lotta muscle.


Jo - Undecided. There's a mutual understanding of dislike and feminine respect.


Benji - ?


? - ?

is funny

"Princess Schwann! Oh, Princess Shwann, I've the honor of delivering the most wonderful news!"


"Gott gibt mir Kraft (God give me strength)," Murmured the princess, who'd been idly standing in the corridors, just outside the entertainment room.


The emanating excitement that came with awaiting the Roulettes answers had been overwhelming for her, encouraging the fluttering butterfly wings within her stomach to beat feverishly, in a manner that twisted her insides like a wash rag and kept her heart drumming at an anxious rhythm. Her golden-brown eyes had been cast far too long upon a series of tapestries, intimidation hidden beneath occasionally batting lashes. Every piece was a detailed, personal portrait of the men and women before her. Absolute strangers, but by blood these individuals were family, all of whom had carried out these royal duties that weighed heavily on her fragile shoulders. Complaining was not an option, so instead, she remained in a constant state of contemplation, wondering how they managed to live up to expectations, and whether or not she should remain her appreciative, humble self or demand a change of pace.


Alas, her introspection was always cut short and interrupted. The owner of that voice that'd been addressing her, a trusted, five foot maid in uniform, was now approaching the brunette with radiating elation. It wasn't reciprocated by the princess, but Fiona did manage to turn away from what'd stirred up her thoughts and offer a half, glossy smile. "Yes, Ida?"


"You slipped away far too soon, you were chosen as a contestant!" She revealed, her accent heavy and, some words, sounded far more foreign than the English she tried to pronounce. "Güte (goodness)! The Duke and Viscount were so pleased- so many important faces today, your highness. I can't blame you for getting the gitters and leaving, but they've requested I find you so you can be on your way."


"...Very well, I'll need to say goodbye to my horses before I leave, however." Fiona insisted, looking for any excuse to avoid the oppression of future political tactics and teachings. The stables were her best chance to catch her breath, and clear her mind.


When the maid offered a questioning look, and followed up with, "You really shouldn't keep them waiting. Are you sure?" The princess did not further elaborate, and the little woman nodded, bowed, and returned inside the room to deliver the message.


In the stables


"I'll be leaving soon, won't you miss me?" Fiona giggled as the Clydesdale before her grunted in response, nudging her with its oversized muzzle, braided, white locks shagging with every nod.


The stables were palatial, and housed every pretty pony and majestic steed she'd ever laid eyes on growing up. If she wanted it, the beast was hers, and Fiona always had to take in and shelter them. The smell was borderline horrid, especially in the summers, and there was the issue with the stable boys that always tried to steal her heart, to no avail. But this was also a cozy place for thinking, accompanied by non judgemental symbols of freedom, of whom always willingly listened to her silliness. Her thin fingers trailed over perfectly groomed fur, and she absorbed this form of untainted solitude, though anticipation swelled within her every moment she wasn't where she should be.


She had a bad habit of procrastinating, some thing that was gravely frowned upon in this royal life. What she lacked for in timing, however, she made up with golden results. That was how she secured herself, and managed to earn a well received reputation. Sometimes, it just seemed like a whole lot of politics, a term she cared little for but managed to manipulate exceedingly well. This trip, this... victory, in the Viscounts eyes... it was merely business travel, an attempt to unite, fortify and strengthen.


What a burden, to know her efforts would be the determining factor in whether or not this kingdom, suddenly hers, would thrive or perish. And what a conflict, to think that all she truly cared to attain was love. She strongly believed in it, but seldom found such a beautiful concept to be displayed. Her suitors were greedy, older and often cowardly in the face of responsibility. Everyone within the castle walls knew none were a worthy match for Fiona, and it brought about an air of redundancy that agitated her to no end. "Do you think the man of my dreams is waiting for me all the way over there?" She asked the towering creature beside her, who whinnied and stomped its hoof.


Fiona had been comically trying to learn how to speak horse, but for now, that gesture gave her as much reassurance as her own attempts at convincing she could, indeed, find love in this contest. She giggled again and, with a sullen look, stroked the animal one last time, glancing around to remember all the spotted, vibrantly colored faces of the closest friends someone of her value could acquire. "I'll miss you, all of you," She told them, but received merely snuffs and nays in response. "Ich komme bald zurück. Hoffentlich mit einem Prinzen (I'll return soon. Hopefully, with a prince)."

​

 

[Myrrh Scented]

MIROSLAV


❝ MIRO ❞


BOTÍC.

• COME AS YOU ARE.
• AS YOU WERE.
• AS I WANT YOU TO BE.
• AS A TREND, AS A FRIEND.
• AS AN OLD MEMORIA.

• 
  
  AGE; twenty.
  
  DATE OF BIRTH; february fourth, nineteen ninety-five (aquarius).
  
  GRADE; college sophomore.
  
  GENDER; cisgender male.
  
  SEXUAL ORIENTATION; no one could be more blatantly heterosexual.
  
  RELATIONSHIPS; he's currently in a friends-with-benefits relationship with a girl named Romy who's an 18-year-old dropout/stripper/free-loader. he's had several relationships like this with several other women.
  
  
• 
  
  FEARS; Miro isn't afraid of many things, he generally keeps himself cool and collected in the face of danger or in situations must would find terrifying. There's only one thing he truly fears and will probably lose his cool over: heights. Put Miro in any situation where he's looking over the ledge of a building larger than two stories and beads of sweat will roll over his brow and he will probably start hyperventilating. He also is Vanilla Falls' resident drug dealer, which leads him to the fear of law enforcement. Whenever he drives by a cop on patrol his breath hitches. He fears that if he gets caught even once his Ivy-League dreams will be lost forever.
  
  QUIRKS; Miro is very touchy-feely and has no regard for personal space if he truly considers you something more than a client. Miro is of Croatian lineage and it is commonplace in most of Europe to frequently have physical contact with family, friends, lovers, and even just acquaintances they look highly upon. He will commonly rest his hand on your shoulder or grab your arm if he is talking to you and considers you close to him. Another quirk of his is a tendency to pick at his cuticles if stressed, disinterested, or just plain bored.
  
  GOALS; Miro plans to graduate from Vanilla Falls community college one way or another as he wants to make good on his dream of gaining admittance to an Ivy League university and becoming a Historian. He's always been fascinated by the Viking Age and stories of ancient Mesopotamia though no one would really suspect as much. Eventually he wants to quit living as a poor college student who has to turn to selling suspiciously cheap cocaine for a living. He feels as if it is dishonouring his extended family back in his country.
  
  
• 
  
  ADDICTIONS; Surprisingly, Miro isn't addicted to any sort of "drug" and abstains from them even if he is offered them. He is honestly disgusted by them and that simply stems from how he was raised. He sells them to get by and that's how it is. In fact he's probably the most sober young adult in Vanilla Falls. That being said, addictions are more than just drugs or alcohol. Miro was practically born with a cigarette at his fingertips as both his mother, father, and sister were heavy smokers. He has no justifiable excuse as to why he smokes, he just needs it. His other addictions include minor arson (he's almost wholly convinced he's a pyrophiliac) and sex (see 'how often do they have sex?').
  
  HOME LIFE; Miro lives all by his lonesome in a small section-8 studio apartment. The apartment is very disorganized and the refrigerator is almost always empty however he never allows the place to get unsanitary. Everything is spotless from the kitchen sink to the bedroom floor. This doesn't mean Miro is alone. He frequently has "clients" pass through for business and he always has at least one girl (a.k.a reluctant friends-with-benefits) that watches the place if he's out on the town or at the college. He could not survive if he didn't have some sort of company.
  
  SCHOOL LIFE; Miro tries/tried to be as active as he could in extracurriculars to better his social standing, but he could never bring himself to keep up with the demanding pressure of both schoolwork and clubs or athletic teams. Nowadays he mostly finds himself losing motivation to even show up to class. He's an excellent student but his bouts of extreme depression have caused his GPA to drop significantly. In grade school and high school he was a huge nerd, and would rather hang with the Mathletes than attend house parties. It's when he came to college when he realized the struggle of balancing a proper full-time job and school. He is definitely counted as an outcast now but he can't bring himself to care anymore. Most, if not all, of his coeds have some sort of sneaking suspicion of how be supports himself. He has a few he would count as friends but they're pretty much all burnt-out losers. Nobody respectable hangs out with him by choice.
  
  
• 
  
  SUICIDAL TENDENCIES?; Miro is plagued with thoughts of ending his own life more than he cares to admit, and for the most part it doesn't even really show with the chill way he presents himself. These thoughts are constant and never really fully gone, though sometimes they may be put on the back burner of his conscious.
  
  HOW OFTEN DO THEY HAVE SEX?; Hoo boy. Can we rephrase that question? How often doesn't Miro have sex? In all seriousness, sex is probably his biggest vice of all and he will go to great lengths to get it, even as far as paying for it. There probably should be some deep-rooted emotional reason for this, but honestly, Miro just likes to get off any chance he can. He really digs how easy American girls are opposed to Croatian ones and so he takes advantage of it often. It is more than just an obsession though, it is quite frankly an addiction and sex addiction is supremely tough to get out of once you're in as deep as him (no pun intended).
  
  HAVE THEY EVER DONE DRUGS?; Miro smoked a bowl of cheap weed once in his Junior year of high school, and that's the end of that story.
  
  
• 
  
  It chills me to the bone, these thoughts that cross my mind. One of these days I'm going to change my evil ways, until then I'll just keep riding on. I'm lounging diagonally across the loveseat, bared feet crossed ankle over ankle on the surface of the coffee table and a half-smoked cigarette between the index and middle fingers of my left hand. My right thumb apathetically flips through the channels on my television, the ultimate 1990s special. I find myself so tired. So tired of pretending to be something I'm not when this is how it's going to be. Jerry Springer, the X-Files, VH1 and MTV.
  
  I bring the cigarette to my lips and take another long drag. I'm a chill guy. I'm fine, I guess. I can get through this. A half-eaten bowl of Ramen noodles balances on the armrest next to my minute phone which has been buzzing off the hook for a good twenty minutes straight. To answer, or not to answer? To do business or try and make the ten dollars I have to my name stretch for the week?
  
  I let my head fall back against the back of the couch and let the remote drop to the floor, reaching for the phone.
  
  ❝ This is Miro. ❞, I answer the call casually, you never know who's on the other line.
  
  There's a brief crackling sound that emits from the phone's speaker before a voice with a Midwestern drawl takes hold.
  
  ❝ Hey, Miroslav, man. What the FUCK is up? You might want to work on that accent of yours, dude. I can barely comprehend your greeter... ❞ I roll my eyes at the comment, it isn't the first time I've heard it before. I recognize the voice on the other end. It's Shaun, Vanilla Falls' very own Jeff Spicoli and a regular customer of mine; ❝ You aren't holding out on me, right? All I've got left is a dimebag of what you recommended last week. This shit is dank. I've got the money, I'll be over right now if it's cool with you. ❞
  
  
  
  
  I weigh my options for a moment. This is really getting to be too much to keep up with, and I can't even manage to scrounge up the motivation to get up and take a shower. It used to be that I had to force a smile when I was feeling down, but now the feeling is so constant that I don't even care anymore. A sheepish grin spreads across my features though I know Shaun can't see it.
  
  
  
  
  ❝ I'm, ah, I'm a little tied up at the moment. And by tied up I mean I just found an episode of My Strange Addiction I haven't seen yet. I'm just not feeling it today. I think tomorrow would be your best bet if you've got nowhere to be. ❞ I say, feeling no need to bullshit anyone, especially my regulars.
  
  
  Oh, okay, he says. No worries man, he says. Call you tomorrow, he says. He may be a complete pothead, but even Shaun can recognise when I am not in the highest of spirits.
  
  
  I take one last long drag of the burnt-down stub that was my cigarette and lean forward to put it out in the overflowing ashtray, and I stare at the fuzzy television screen through all the smoke surrounding me. And I'm only halfway there.
  
  [media]
  

• AS AN OLD MEMORIA.

• 
  
  [/media]
  

 

[Amora Aurora]

Chandler Jordan Cassel

I DON'T CARE

Name: Chandler Cassel


Age: 19


DOB: May 18, 1996


Gender: Male


Sexuality: Undecided/Bi-curious


Nickname: C.J. ~by family


Sticky ~ A select few friends. Short for sticky-fingers, after his tendency to shoplift.


Grade: Graduated

WHAT YOU THINK

Fears:


"What's The Point of 'Em?"


Successfully Losing Everyone Who Cares


Quirks:


~Compulsively interrupts others


~Makes up random lies about unimportant things for no reason, or to seem more interesting


~His mouth just cannot wrap itself around the words 'cinnamon' and 'synonym.' Neither are ever pronounced correctly despite his knowing how they're supposed to be said.


Goals:


~Escape


~Excitement


~Being Remembered


Addictions:


"Pot Doesn't Count."


Cigarettes


Adrenaline


Attention


Shoplifting


Home Life:


Chandler is the sixth of seventh children, most of whom have separate fathers, and live in the foster system. Born in Chicago, when social services removed him from his mother's home he was an infant. He was placed with family far away, his father's parents, and grew up with elderly but kind people, doing whatever he pleased. His grandparents fed and clothed him as well as loved him dearly, but no amount of his grandparents love could prevent the hellion that Chandler was destined to grow into. His grandmother passed away a little over a year ago, and his grandfather is bed-ridden, so for the most part, Chandler's home life is depressing, and he usually chooses not to be there.


School Life:


In high school, Chandler hated being classified, and associated himself with a large array of people in order to stand out more. He only dated the hottest girls, and usually broke their hearts with his impulsive nature. Though he never even so much as thought about a sport, he still managed to be decently popular just because of his outgoing nature. In all categories of his life, though, Chandler is the essence of a villain. He's always been a bit of a sociopath, and lacks any sort of empathy for others. He never had a problem making friends thanks to his good looks and confident attitude (his grandparents credit cards and lake house didn't hurt either) but he's never particularly nice to them. Still, they usually manage to come crawling back for more because life with Chandler is admittedly very exciting. He'll do whatever it takes to spice up his world and avoid boredom, and when his antics don't involve you, they're entertaining to observe.

UNLESS

Suicidal Tendencies:


While Chandler has never attempted suicide, it is something that regularly crosses his mind. Death in general fascinates him, and the glory of going out young, tragic, and attractive is definitely intriguing. He assumes one day he'll actually do it, but being so impulsive, he's not sure how soon it will be, if ever.


Sex:


As often as it comes. Chandler's never really had to work for sex, it normally finds him, and he's not one to ever turn it down. He lives for pleasure and attention, so obviously sex is right up his alley.


Drugs:


Pot: Chandler's relationship with pot is almost a romantic one. When he's not high, he's anticipating the next time he will be. In his opinion, he's at his best when stoned.


Ecstasy: Ah, the love drug. Chandler's got a soft spot for drugs that make him feel soft and blissful. He'll pop some form of party drug, at the least, every other day.


Coke: Every now and then, it makes its way into his life. He doesn't have the money to feed an addiction, so he's been careful with his use so far, and Coke is usually some sort of treat to himself.


Theme Song/Character Inspiration









Relationships:


TBD

IT'S ABOUT ME

Spoiler

It wasn't that Chandler particularly liked still living at home so much as he liked the idea of getting his grandparents old house when his grandpa finally kicked the bucket. If that meant he had to stick around and take care of the old man to score a spot in his Will, then so be it. Normally, this wasn't a problem because Chandler stayed out of the house all hours of the day only returning home to make meals for his grandfather and sleep. The only time this was a hassle was at exactly six thirty five in the morning when Harold Cassel woke up every single morning exactly on schedule, switched his old ass loud alarm clock off, and turned on the morning news in time to catch the six o'clock, which was, in their town, the airing that showed most of the new reports versus the same old stories from the night before. Harold's hearing was going out, and he had to turn the volume sky high to understand anything. Living just two doors over from his grandson, you could see how this might be a problem.


Every morning, Chandler awoke to the blaring noise of the morning newscasters voice, all chipper and excited like he hadn't woken up way too fucking early, doused himself in caffeine and cocaine, and drove to his place of work to report terrible, depressing stories with a smile on his face. News channels were sick.


And just like every other morning, Chandler tried desperately to cling onto the last remnants of his sleep-induced haze, squeezing pillows over his head to block out sound, groaning and cussing repeatedly, and the eventually, just like every other morning, he rolled out of his twin sized bed until bare feet his hardwood floor and he knew it was breakfast time.


Soon, the old man would kick the bucket and Chandler could sleep as late as he wanted, but until then: "Morning grandpa, sleep well?" He asked politely, carrying a bed try into the elderly man's room to lie on the man's lap. The tray consisted of a muffin, a bowl of cereal, and a peeled orange, the same as every other day.


"Thank you, C.J. I slept fine, you don't worry about me. Now go out and have you some fun while you're still young."


"Alright. Call if you need anything."


"I love you, bub."


Chandler smiled at his grandfather as he shut the door of the musky room. Both of the men were aware the Chandler didn't express love or affection. He did think fondly of his grandfather, but expression made him uncomfortable. That was the thing he liked most about the old man: it didn't matter how often Chandler refused to respond to his love, Harold continued to remind him every morning, as if it didn't matter that Chandler was incapable of loving him back.


A quick joint and shower later and he was in his beat up old Honda Accord, his latest project, on a journey to purchase more cigarettes before his head exploded.

So you want to know who I am? Trust me, everyone does. I get that question a lot more often than you'd think, actually. Everyone's always trying to figure me out, like I'm some sort of mystery. My last fuck buddy labeled me 'the male version of a manic pixie dream girl.' (Then I googled it because what the fuck?) But most people just label me an asshole. I like my girls quiet and easy, my music loud and angry, and my drugs cheap and effective. I'm really not that complicated, I swear.


I'm Chandler Cassel. Nineteen year old future-felon with the people skills of a God. I've tested my talents several times, and my record so far is three days. All it took was seventy-two hours to completely wrap someone around my finger. It takes much less time, I've observed, to destroy them.


Don't get me wrong, I don't live to destroy people. I like having friends as much as the next guy, but getting friends is the easy part. You see, people these days, they're all desperate. Every single person you pass on the street is suffering an inner struggle for connection. We're a bunch of anti-social, paranoid freaks who are terrified of what others think. So terrified, in fact, that we're rarely ourselves. So making friends is simple: pretend you care about who they really are. Give them a false sense of that human connection they crave, and they're hooked. 'Best Friends Forever' they call it. Usually, in my experience, forever isn't that long. That's another thing I've tested.


Have you ever gone a few days in a row just completely zombie-fied? I see it all the time: parents and even teenagers living their daily lives in a routine: go to work or school, socialize when necessary, eat when hungry. It's like the game of Sims. They're all just living to fill up their needs bars, and then procreate to submit an even stupider sheep to the routine of life. Go to school, then go to college, then go to work, then get married, then have kids, work until you're sixty, retire, and die. Everyone's chasing the same lame ass boring goal. Comfort. Conformity. Sameness.


That's why whatever higher power lives up in the sky put me here. God or Allah or Zeus or Science, whatever you believe in (because I don't give a fuck who it is) the creator of all, was bored with his uniform little sims, watching them do the same damn thing everyday. I'm the modded version of the game. That one awesome character you add to just wreak havoc on everyone else. Good-looking as hell, intelligent beyond comparison, and living to fulfill my own personal purpose: fuck shit up.

Spoiler

 

[QuixoticKitten]

major wip

Introducing Camden Rose...

come and lose yourself

Name:

"Yeah, I'm aware that my mother spends too much time on Pinterest and my dad likes baseball."

Camden Rose Eckler

Nickname:

"Please don't call me Camden. Like, ever."

Cam or Cammie

DOB:

"I don't believe in horoscopes, but if I did, I'd be an Aquarius."

February 5th

Age:

"Too young to die and too old to live."

Eighteen

Grade:

"I'm out, baby."

Recently graduated from high school, currently not enrolled in college

Gender:

"You can check, if you'd like."

Female

Sexuality:

"Girls are cute."

somewhat closeted lesbian

a little while

Fears:

"Nothing, but I can fake almost anything."

Autophobia - the fear of abandonment

Philophobia - the fear of falling in love

Trypophobia - the fear of holes

Vehophobia - the fear of driving

Quirks:

"I like to think that I'm pretty normal."

Picks at her lips when nervous

Constantly cracks her knuckles or ankles

Always has to have her nails painted

Goals:

"I'm what the counselors like to call a hopeless case."

Cam currently has no long-term goals or ambitions. At this point, she has accepted that she isn't going to be leaving Vanilla Falls and has given up on trying to make any other goals. Right now, she works at the local library and hasn't thought about going anywhere else.

Addictions:

"Don't do drugs, kids."

Marijuana: More of a recreational user, Cam tends to smoke when she is stressed or in a bad mood. She claims that she can live without it, but it is a vice that she can't seem to let go of no matter how hard she tries. All around her are users, and she usually can't resist the temptation to light up at least once in the spirit of good fun.

Body art: When things get bad at home, Cam draws or paints on herself rather than self-harming. Most of her art is temporary, but it's become a habit she can't shake. Now that she is legally an adult, she has planned a few tattoos in hopes that they'll make her feel better about herself.

Sex: Pretty self explanatory, but Cam is deeply afraid of falling in love, but dreams of it every day. She hasn't figured herself out, much less other people, and uses sex to fill the void that she has created for herself.

take a chance and

let your body move

 

[caramel]

Johanna Rinaldi


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"Baby be the class clown, I'll be the beauty queen in tears"

Long

Name:


Johanna Nicolette Rinaldi


Age:


17


DOB:


May 14th, 1997


Gender:


Slightly confused but currently identityfying as a Cis female


Sexuality:


Pansexual, biromantic


Nickname:


JoJo, Blondie, Bitch, Beauty Queen


Grade:


11th

Live

Fears:


Being Implaled~ Self Explanatory


A


Rejection~ Not being wanted sexually or having others shun or ostracize her


Roaches~ Self Explanatory


Becoming Fat~ Self Explanatory


Becoming Poor~ She's spoiled as hell

Quirks:


•Digging her nails into her palms whenever she's upset


• Weighs herself before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up


• She still throws tantrums when she doesn't get what-or who she wants


• Uses sex appeal to get out of every situation


• She has a Scottish accent but tries extremely hard to sound "American" and actually ends up with a overwhelming Valley Girl voice.


Addictions:


• Attention


• Skipping meals


• Sex


Goals:


• Get the hell out of Vanilla Falls


• Winning Ms. USA


• Weighting 102 lbs.

Her

Home Life:


Jo's mother is a beauty queen. Her father is a plastic surgeon. That ought to give you a glimpse of her home life. Every single one in the family was born a hazel eyed brunette but soon enough, bottle blond and blue contacts were the only way to go. Jo's mother was actually quite happy to supply her 14 year old daughter with them, saying that it'd help her fit in with the American children at her school. Considering they came to the USA that year, Jo would have tried anything. Her parents don't sleep in the same bed unless her mother needed a new surgery and one time, a woman named Krystal demanded she was having her dad's baby. Really, the only time they come together is when Johanna has a pageant.


School life:


Johanna Rinaldi is a raging hot bitch. She's that one girl with the sparkly words across her boobs and words sharp enough to cut like knives. She's quite "popular", not for doing anything helpful of course but for sleeping with half the student body, being attractive and just being plain old scary. Jo's a bully with a GPA so low, it seems ridiculous. It has to be that low though-no one this pretty can be smart, right ?

Fucking

Suicidal Tendencies:


Jo doesn't want to kill herself yet she wants to die. She's occasionally brought out her father's gun, loaded it and held it up to her temple but she hangs on to the dream that someone-anyone would miss her when she's gone.


How often do they have sex ?:


Constantly and everywhere. It's her way to bribe, blackmail and get out of things. Besides, who doesn't want to have sex as much as they possibly can ?


Relationships:


Chandler Cassel~ The two met when Jo first moved to the USA from Scotland. They both took a liking to each other and became friends, most likely for the sex. However, as Jo began advancing up the social scale and Chanlder grew older, they lost all touch.


Florence "Flo" Constantine~ Flo is one of Johanna's best friends (that she actually likes). The two met when she was 15. Jo ran out of lipstick-her favriote shade, Easy Peach-and she refused to go anywhere without it. Guess who she ran into at the shop ? They've been quite close ever since.

Majesty

Writing sample:


The life of a beauty queen was truly a hard one. You'd never be actually beautiful until your skin was the right shade of sun kissed-artificially of course. Your (blonde) hair had to be curled and your (blue) eyes had to be made up to the point of not being able to lift your eyelids. Flippers are going to be jammed into your mouth and getting your teeth whitened is basically the same as brushing them. And under no circumstances can you be fat .


That was what went around in Jo's head as she stepped onto the scale, her glossed up lips between her teeth. The numbers were king and she was the obedient thrall. No matter what, they were always right. Taking a deep breath, Johanna would look down at the scale. Oh god-oh god-she stumbled off the scale, landing on her bare ass with the cold tile stinging her skin. How the fuck had she gained another two pounds ? She didn't eat jack shit yesterday ! Tears filled the blonde's wide eyes and her shoulders spasmed as the urge to puke came over her. Puke-that was it. Crawling on all fours towards the toilet, Johanna got on her knees and brought her fingers up to her mouth, promising not to stop until she saw nothing but blood and water.

​

 

[Unrlstic]

Lucille Miller

"I don't use it because I'm a bad person. I use it because its the only thing that makes me feel slightly less insane." Lucy

​

everything

Name: Lucille Miller


Age: 18


DOB: February 10, 1997


Gender: Female


Sexuality: Bi-curious


Nickname: Lucy - Everyone,


Miller - Her probation officer, Lucille - Her parents


Grade: Graduated

has

Fears:


"I occasionally get nightmares about me dying. Notice I said nightmares and not dreams,"


Death and anything that has to do with it.





Quirks:


"Funny thing is, I never realize that I do these things"


- Drifts off when people start talking to her.


- Abruptly rolls eyes at other people, even when not intentional.


- Lightly scoffs at someones opinion when she doesn't agree.





Goals:


"Yup, thats right, I'm an ambitious son of a bitch,"


- To find love


- To travel around the world





Addictions:


"Damn, addiction is a strong word, I just think of them as daily habits,"


- Booze


- Manipulating


- Wandering off


- Skinny dipping in the dark (night time)





Home Life:


Lucille was born to Adeline and Kevin Miller on a chilly February evening, making her the eldest of two other children. They lived in a middle class home, in the sweet town of Toms River which was located in northern New Jersey. Her father was an architecture, whereas her mother decided to pursue her dreams in the medical field, thus making her a nurse. Lucy was pretty close to her family; her parents were her favorite people in the world, her younger twin brothers were her laugh and joy, and of course, their pure bred Golden Retriever, Max, was her furry best friend. Home was all fun in games, until the year the unbelievable happened. Returning home from having to pick up the boys early from school, Lucy's mother Adeline and her twin brothers ended up in a severe car accident, which resulted in critical injuries, and eventually lead to death. Lucy and her father are basically the only ones remaining in the Miller family due to their loss. Soon enough, both Kevin and Lucy moved out of what was once a pleasurable New Jersey, to leave behind the void of their deceased loved ones. Unlike before, a big gap formed between her and her father's relationship, and long story short, she now is living in a three bedroom apartment with two roommates, avoiding her father as much as she can.





School Life:


Before moving, Lucille was practically your everyday social-able student. Everyone loved her, and she was always seen with friends, or smiling. Though she hated stereotypes, Lucy would be easily able to be put in the "popular" group. She was very skilled in many different sports, and activities, earning her endless respect from both her teachers and peers. To keep a spot on all of those sports and activities, like every other school, she was required to maintain nothing less than a C average in every academic class, and with her intelligence, she didn't find it hard to do so. But, that was all before moving. After moving, Lucille became a very introverted, and well reserved individual. Instead of continuing sports, she began to ditch school with her new type of friends: the punks. She didn't talk to anyone unless they were her friend, or unless she had too, but to her dismay, she passed everyone of her classes with luck, and graduated the living hell, what people call high school. Continuing to hang out with the bad crowd, Lucy ended up in a few dramatic situations with the law, in return, resulted in her spending a month in jail, and is now on probation, and finds her probation officer a creep, and has no empathy for him in anyway.

an

Suicidal Tendencies:


Although she has a fear of death, Lucy has thought about suicide more than a couple of times. Once in awhile, she'll pour some bleach in a glass, and think about going for it, only to end up pouring it back out into the sink. It may not show to others, but shes a very suicidal teen, with lots of anger build up inside of her, which makes her hate herself and wants to end her life but she'll never actually have the guts to do so.





Sex:


You would think a blonde beauty like her, would have had plenty of sex throughout her lifetime, but thats where you're wrong. Hence Lucy's purity ring, shes a virgin mary, and has never once had sex with a guy, nor a girl. No, she isn't religious, but she believes that in order to have sex with someone, you would have to be in love with them, and Lucy has never been in love in any of the past relationships that shes been in. Although a virgin, like every other teen, she experiences hormones and urges to lose her innocence, but shes able to remain stable in those types of situations.





Drugs:


Morphine: This is practically the only thing that makes Lucy feel special. Whenever she takes it, she feels numb. She feels as if shes on cloud 9, and everything stressing her out is forgotten. But, the best part yet, it makes her happy.


Meth (smoking): Rush. Adrenaline. Power. All of these come intact when Lucy smokes meth, and quite frankly, she isn't ready to stop.


Theme Song/Character Inspiration

Spoiler

[media]

[/media]
Relationships:


Floyd Constantine: Encountering a rude Floyd at her job while serving him a couple of beers, Lucy had always felt a feeling of disgust for Floyd. After he would constantly invited her for sex (which she denied without hesitation) her theory of him being a filthy bastard finally came into place. His cockiness irritated her, and she sought to tell him that. In no intention in losing her job, Lucy only scolded him outside of work instead of inside, in order not to piss off her no-good-bum lazy ass boss. One day, to her surprise, Lucy found herself being introduced by Floyd to his friends, and weirdly, she began to become friends with the guy she once thought was a prick. And to her dismay, shes now falling for him, (but doesn't realize it) and she flirts with other guys just to hide her feelings.





Max Acosto: While at a party during her senior year, Lucy was abrutly getting feeled up by a douchebag after she denied numerous times to get with him. To her rescue, Max beat up the guy the drunken bastard hit on her, and afterwards, both him and her decided to leave the party and take a stroll outside in the fresh breeze. That night began their strictly friends with benefits relationship that consisted of only making out, and no sex, due to Lucy's beliefs. Now, former friends with benefits, Lucy considers Max her go-to whenever shes feeling down and just needs someone to talk too, and she trust him more than anyone else in the group, other than Rachel of course.





Rachel Wilson: Well, we all know, every delinquent needs a matching misfit sidekick of their own right? Well, Rae is that sidekick. Well, not so much of a sidekick, but a best friend. Yup, that was it. Rae was Lucy's best friend and Lucy was hers. They both met sometime around Lucy's senior year while Rachel was a sophmore, and even though the one year grade difference, both girls hit it off pretty well. They were felt comfortable around each other, and related a lot in the sense of family wise, with how Rae had an ill mother, and Lucy's mother died. When Lucy finally graduated school, her and Rae kept in touch, remaining best friends, and ever since, they've stuck by each other even when times became tough, and let me tell ya, that was a whole lot of the time.





Jo Rinaldi: Out of the natural hatred towards the popular chicks, Lucy immediatly hated Jo once recognition. She held no empathy for her, often shooting her dead glaces whenever Jo was nearby. In return, Jo also hated Lucy for the fact that she simply thought that this blonde bimbo would come waltzing in, and hurting her best friend Floyd. After endless nights and days of convincing herself that she did in fact, have a thing for Flo, Lucy came to a realization that, she wouldn't get Floyd's heart if she wasn't on good terms with Jo, who was his best friend. To that, Lucy began to be more subtle, and kinder to Jo, which came pretty easily due to the simillar "fuck this shit" attitude that both her and Jo possesed. Now, although not best friends, Lucy is on good terms with Jo, and might even be one of the people in the group that she openly tells her feelings too.

end

Spoiler

Society. A mixture of lost adolescent souls and broken hearts. Both were easily found in a person, especially someone like Lucy. Well, she was defiantly not of victim of the famous heart break stories, but she without a doubt had a lost soul. The only thing that Lucy didn't have in common with every other person that had a lost soul, was the fact that she wasn't as complicated as they were. Shit, she was barely complicated at all. Everyday for her, was short and uneventful. Her mornings consisted of working at the local bar, (even though she was 3 years under the legal age to do so), getting hit on by old dudes that looked as if they auditioned for a role in Duck Dynasty, returning home, and lounging around, taking a few puffs of Meth (unless she decided that it was gloomy day enough to do Morphine instead), and at night, she would suffer hearing the tiresome moans coming from the room of her roommates that were having constantly late night sex, even though they promised not to make it awkward while she was there.


Thankfully, she had about four and a half more hours to get ready to fall asleep to the "pleasurable" sounds from her overly stimulated roommates. Lucy reluctantly rose up from the worn out leather bean bag that she called a couch, and reached for the bowl of morphine that was casually placed on the coffee table besides her. This was it. This was what she looked forward too in the day every single day of her life. It was lonely that afternoon, and she saw no reason to have to get exceptionally high by smoking meth, so she went for her second favorite, Morphine. She snorted the white powder through her left nostril. She usually only took in 30mL, but today Lucy felt way more lonelier than usual today, and 30mL wouldn't cut it. No doubt, she broke her rule of going higher than she should, but right now, Lucy didn't care. She briskly slouched right back onto the couch, taking in the sensational feeling that was about to arouse in her.





Lucy took a deep breath before the feeling of numbness coursed throughout her whole body. She, hugged herself, shutting her eyes tightly and imagining the recognizable new world that had started inside of her: a wave of warmth rushed both inside and outside of her body, as each millisecond passed, her body felt more and more weightless than before, almost as if she was flying, everything around her started to slow down, and everything seemed so surreal, there was no pain. Not physically, nor emotionally. Suddenly, her happy thoughts were replaced by darkness. Pitch black. Yes, her eyes were closed and that was normally something that you would expect to see with closed eyes, but this was different. Panicking, Lucy jumped back up, and ran into the kitchen, rapidly grabbing hold of the marble counter top to keep herself from falling. She blinked uncontrollably as sweat began to trickle down her forehead. Was she dying? Most of the time, the teen tried not to focus on death, but when she would think about it, Lucy had always thought that dying would be a painless thing. But, if this was her dying, then she didn't like it, and she would do everything in her weak power to prevent herself from this being her final moments. To her dismay, her dainty arms weren't able to hold on to the counter-top, and Lucy went coiling down, on the floor. She had hit her head first, which caused her to feel much dizzier than before. Her body went numb, and not the good type of numb. The numbness you feel when you're cold. And then, her eyes involuntarily started to shut, causing the light to seem dimmer and dimmer and dimmer.....

Spoiler

 

[AnimusLight]

Maxwell Acosta

LET ME

Age: 18


DOB: November 6, 1997


Gender: Male


Sexuality: Bisexual


Nickname: Max, "Mad Max" because of his violent behavior


Grade: 12th Grade

PURSUE

Fears:


His father (but he won't say it out loud), Loosing his baby sister, Heights, Alcohol, People being disappointed in him


Quirks:


Doing things with his lips: Biting (thinking/nervous) or Licking (Interested)


Training consists of 30 push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups every other day and jogging at night.


His jaw tightens when he's ready to sock someone in the face out of anger.


Covers his mouth when laughing, lying, and embarrassed.


Anger issues on a bad day


Doesn't bother fixing his hair most of the time


Goals:


He wants to be in the Olympics for Tae kwon do. He's currently in a dojang (martial arts school) that only consists of four people including his master but that's to be expected because of how small the town is and how cheap the lessons are. He wants to reach 4th dan black belt.


Addictions:


He's been trying to quit smoking, resorting to gum or lollipops as an alternative to calm himself down. The only addiction anyone think he has is the non-stop training he does for his sport.


Home Life:


If he ever had a chance to leave his house, Max would take it without a second thought. The only person holding him back is his little sister who's only four years old. They live with their biological father, a man who's doing multiple jobs and drowns himself in alcohol at the end of the day. His father, on a bad day, would physically and mentally abuse him, leaving him with bruises and a sour mood which he takes it out at school. Sometimes the man would kick him out of the house, so Max sleeps at the dojang for the night. The old man would always apologize and promise to change his habit but Max knows that will never happen. He trains himself daily so he can protect his sister from anyone including his father. If he would say were his home is, it would be the rundown martial arts school he goes to. His master is more of a father-figure to him and his peers are like brother's he has never had. Max takes his sister there when it's rough at home. Max's mother left the household with another man, saying he was going to treat her right better than their father after a year of giving birth to his sister. He doesn't miss her.


School Life:


Max has been known to be violent in school. Usually after a bad day at home, he'd be angry with any small thing that irritates him. He's been lucky though, not receiving charges for many of his outbursts. Now that he's 18, he's trying to watch himself or he will be charged as an adult for assault. Max has been in many fights both at school and out on the street. His master scowls him every time Max shows up to the dojang with a new black eye or a cut lip. Some students call him, "Mad Max" because of his temper. Don't say it in front of him or he'll show anyone why he has that nickname. The worst he has done was send a classmate to the hospital after back kicking the guy through a window. He's also yelled at a few teachers and punched a few students. Not many people approach him because of this but he's actually a friendly guy once anyone knows him. Despite Max's behavior, he actually has decent grades because his master would scowled him if he didn't do well in school.

MY DAMN

Suicidal Tendencies ?:


Max used to think that way until his little sister was brought into this world. He has a goal he doesn't want to give up on so he tells himself to be stronger. Giving up means loosing the fight and Max hates loosing.


How Often do they have sex ?:


He's done a few women and one guy. They are usually one-night stands and only happens when his father kicks him out of the house.


Have they ever done drugs ? If so list them here:


He's only smoked cigarettes (that he's now trying to quit). Drugs isn't good for martial arts.


Relationships:

Rae - Current classmate in art class Max is forced to be in. His counselor wants him to take a fine arts class for the art credit and believes that will help him "express his feelings without violence." Rae's pretty chill in Max's opinion. She helps him out in class.


Floyd - Another student from his school. The first time they met in person led to both of them to the principal's office with black eyes. Max finds out later that his sister's "School Buddy" that takes care off her class is actually Floyd's young sister. He's glad that his sister's first time in school is enjoyable for her. Him and Floyd became friends later when finding out they were both in the same group that's planning to leave town.


Lucy - Met her at a party during his junior year. He beat up a guy who was trying to hit on her. The two left the party to get some fresh air and they made an interesting relationship. They would talk about each other's problems, and used made-out a few times - ex "friends with benefits" type. They never had sex and Max respects her space.


Jo - Max thinks she's hot, pretty much. She's a temptress in his opinion, sometimes flirting with him. She leaves him sexually frustrated if he hasn't gotten off in a while. He doesn't know if he would ever date her though - more of a "lets fuck and leave no strings attached." She's chill.


Will - A friendly guy, in Max's opinion. Will met Max at a low time - he was getting kicked out of the house; the usual sometimes. Will offered to stay at his place for the night. Max accepted and they found their similarities in "Abusive fathers." The two have talked once in a while but not enough for them to become close friends though they do say hello when passing by at school.


Chandler -


Miro -


Cam -

DREAM

Writing Sample (I hope it suits your guy's taste):


The cool night is bliss to Max's nightly jog. He runs on the paved street because it has more cushion than the sidewalk. He wears a hoodie that cover his head and his usual training sweatpants. The street lights illuminate his pathway through the neighborhood. He looks forward as if he was in a trance, not bothering to notice how tired he was. His pace down the street is more than his usual limitation for a reason.


When the school let out the students on the last bell, Max was called to the principal's office because some asshole falsely accused him for punching the guy in the face. He stepped in that office, pleaded his innocence and left with more school detention added to his current one. Max naively kicked all the school trashcans on his way out of the building plus threatened the accuser, who was already sprinting away, once they were off campus. He let off some steam at his martial arts lessons but the hot weather didn't help with cheering his mood while sparring in full gear.


Max turns the corner on the block, succumbing to his exhaustion minutes later and resting at a bus stop. Plopping himself down on a bench, he leans back against the cool metal, panting hard. His gaze stares at the dark sky thinking about tomorrows plans. The others decided to meet up at the cafe which pushes Max's schedule to a difficult spot. Money has become tight now that his little sister, Elise, is starting school soon and Max needs to pay for his next black belt testing. He's going to have to find a part time job later and that's going to squeeze what little time he had left to himself. Hell, he'd do any job to get the money.


He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the air cool him down. "Hey, Mad Max," says a voice at his side. Max's eyes quickly open to see an incoming punch already reaching his face. He's knocked over the side of the bench, clutching a hand over where the guy hit him. "Shit," he curses, spitting out blood from a cut lip. The attacker has a ring on him; that's fucking cheap. Max scrambles to his feet, dodging a low kick and returning the "lovely gesture" with his own. He roundhouse kicks the guy's rib cage while the guy tries to go in for another punch. "You little fucker, " the man pulls out a pocket knife.


Shit, he thought. A weapon wasn't a good sign at all. Max couldn't tell who his attacker was; the guy had a cap obscuring his face. He lunges at Max with the weapon pointed in front. The martial artist jumps back, trying to create distance between him and his enemy then - timing it correctly - he crescent kicks the hand that holds the small blade. His attacker drops it and while he's busy, Max sprints back to his house without slowing down or looking back.


His small one-story house comes into view. He reaches the door, rummaging for his keys quickly while glancing once in a while behind him. He gets the door to open, getting into the house right away. Max shuts the door behind him, leaning up against the wooden frame. He lets out his breath he didn't notice he's been holding. Did it have to be a knife fight today? He wishes for a break at least once in his life.


"Max?" calls out a small voice. The voice puts a smile to his face already as he heads to where it came from. A small girl, with a ribbon tied with her hair into a ponytail, peeks out from her room. "Elise, go to bed. Father will be back soon in a few minutes," says Max, glancing at the digital clock. It glows 9:10 P.M. in red lights; he hopes his father had a fine day at work. His sister lifts up both her hands towards him, asking to be carried. He pulls her up into his arms and she wraps her's around his neck. Max carries the sister into her room, tucking her into bed. He pulls the ribbon out of her hair then ruffles her head. "Good night. Don't come out of this room, okay?" he smiles. She nods, understanding the usual routine.


Max sighs while he closes her room behind him. Should he wait for his father or fall asleep? The drinking seems to have gotten worse and the last time he fell asleep led to him being thrown out of the house. He waits for the old man, doing homework as the clock rolls to each minute. He hears a car pull into the driveway at 9:32. Max puts his school things away quickly as the front door opens to reveal a sullen-looking father and a bottle of scotch in hand. Max sighs again, eyeing the alcohol.

 

[Dysphoria]

William "Will" Albury

​

Spoiler

You thought you saw light

Name

William Albury

Age

Nineteen

DOB

February 14, 1996

on Valentine's Day

Gender

Cis Male

Sexuality

Questioning

Nickname(s)

"How's my little duck doing today, huh?" His mother use to greet him after school.

His grandparents simply refers to him as "Duck" now that he's grown.

The folks outside of his family just know him as "Will."

Grade

12th

Fears

Snowfall, as he distinctly remembers the sight of blood diluting the pure white.

Reckless drivers, for reasons obvious to his history.

Quirks

Occasionally, whenever he handles Stella in the morning, he comes to school smelling of horse.

He tends to drive a few miles below the speed limit, regardless of the road.

He wears his mother's bracelet everywhere.

He has a faint Southern accent.

He fails at technology.

Goals

"My grandparents seem to think I can get a full-ride athletic scholarship...

I don't know if college is for people like me, you know?

I rather stay here and take care of the farm.

Gramps' health is shit, anyways."

Addictions

His thighs are littered with burn marks,

and occasionally he'll take the lighter

to the underside of his wrist.

Nobody suspects a thing.

​

Eating me alive

Writing Sample


Swinging open the door to the ancient pickup, William’s shoes hit the gravel with a light thud. He ran a freckled hand through his coppery hair (now coated with a thin sheen of sweat from afterschool practice), before taking the key out of the ignition. Twirling it around his index finger by the ring, he closed the truck behind him as he started with eager steps towards the pasture. The barn was a good distance from the two-story farmhouse, about a ten minute walk. For the redhead, it was routine, worth his effort all the same. He knew that beyond the tall, red walls, Stella would be anticipating his company. He hated to keep her waiting.


By the time he had reached the entrance to the elderly structure, Will’s keychain was securely tucked away, into the rear pocket of his jeans. He lifted up the wooden latch before fully pushing one of the colossal doors open. A smile touched his lips as he greeted with a glut of whinnies, the horses eagerly stretching their necks past each stall to nod at him. “I know, I know.” He reassured the mammals in a tender voice. Then, he fetched a peanut butter jar from a low shelf near to the front of the barn. He unscrewed the top of it, emptying a handful of sugar cubes into his palm before returning it to its place on the wall.


He made his first stop at Charlie, offering a few treats to the buckskin and giving his shoulder a firm pat. Then, he moved on with the same treatment, to Priscilla (a pinto). For the first time that day, his eyes lit up at the final horse in the stable, a gunmetal appaloosa. To reach her box, he walked to the far end of the building.


“Hey, girl.” The redhead extended his palm out to the mare, briefly stroking the smooth fur on her muzzle. In a matter of seconds, she was anxious to push open his balled up fist, where the sugar was being held tight. Chuckling, William gave in, willingly handing away the remainder of the cubes. It was about four more than what the other horses were given, but Stella had always been special, seeing as she had been his mother’s ride. Could you blame him?

 

[TheUnspokenGodess]

Name:

Benjamin Shawn Yates


" All the things that are supposed to make me happy....don't"

Age:

18

DOB:

February 28,1997/18

Gender:

Male

Sexuality:

Heteromantic

Nickname:

Benji

Grade:

Graduated

Fears:

- Not amounting to anything in life

- Letting down others

- Tight spaces or feeling trapped

-Night Terrors

- Not being able to find his mom

Quirks:

- Has a habit of licking his lips

-Whistling-

-Clicking his tongue

Goals:

- To leave the hell of a town and do something with his life

Addictions:

-Nail Biting

- Pacing back in forth

-Tapping his fingers against objects

- Night running

Home Life: Benjamin's life is something on a thin line of bitter sweet. His father was a hard man, drilled to be the provider and the protector by his father, he pushed those same tough values and views onto Benji. It wasn't something he really took seriously though but it did teach him how to be a man, or what his father though a man should be. " You got to be tough and fearless, protect those you love and be willing to die for your family because blood is thicker than anything else". Benjamin used to think that was true but if it was then why did his mother leave? They lived a pretty stable life besides the small arguments. He and his younger sister Kiara used to hear his parents bickering late at night when they were supposed to be sleep. Maybe his mother was tired of his pops stuck in ways or his temper. When he got mad he cursed and hit things, one time he even hit Benjamin's mom. Of course he apologized over and over but that was really when things changed in the house. His mother became more and more distant and mumbled smalls things to herself until one day she just up and left. Benji was sixteen at the time. Soon after that his father became a mix of emotions either he talked and it was bullshit or he didn't talk and poured himself into work and that new girlfriend he got. Benji and his sister became even closer, he wanted to get out, find his mother and figure out why she left him and his sister, why she didn't love them enough to take them and left them with their poor excuse of a dad. Ever since she left his night terrors got worse and he blamed her for that, but the only thing he could do was poor his time and attention to his friends and his sister until that day comes.

School Life: Benji was that kid that makes friends with everyone because he doesn't feel like it should be limited based on what other people feel like you belong. For Benji school is his peace even though some kids might disagree. He does fairly well in his classes and even participates on the football team as a form of fun and exercise for him. While in his classes he is known for his bright smile and his jokes that has everyone out their seats. As for a clique he was kind of in everyone's although if you were to see him it would be with the class clowns and sports people(aka.jocks).

* Include their clique*

Suicidal Tendencies ?: Benji doesn't really have any except for the time he contemplated on jumping off the small bridge near his uncles auto shop in the middle of the night. The dreams were getting far to vivid for him and he wanted them to stop. He still remembers that night, cold sweat and his his chest pounding as if it were trying to come out of his body. If his sister hadn't called out looking for him, he just might have done it.

How Often do they have sex ?: Benjamin's not the type to have strings of people in and out of his bed mostly due to the fact that he rather have a romantic relationship with that person before anything more psychical and than kissing ensues but he has slept with a small handful of people, about four to be exact.

Have they ever done drugs ? If so list them here:

Marijuana/Black&Milds/ Alcohol/ and Molly( Though it was one time at a party and that will never happen again)

Relationships:

Rachael " Rae" Wilson-

Miro Botic-?

Claire Aldaine-?

Chandler Cassel-?

Camden Eckler-?

Johanna Rinaldi-?

Lucille Miller-?

Floyd Constantine-?

Maxwell Acosta-?

William " Will" Albury-?

( We shall see as the story progresses unless you want to be friends message me)

Writing Sample:

* I'd prefer it to be from the characters POV*

Spoiler

I'm not scared..I'm not scared. It's dark and I keep telling myself that bold face lie out of hope that it will comfort me in some way. It doesn't. Here I am standing outside surrounded by black houses...all except for one far out in the distance. Its white and there seems to be someone standing in front of the door...is it my mother? I slowly take a few steps further but with each step that I take the white house gets further and further away. Now I'm running and i extend my arm reaching towards the house but I cant reach it. The voices seem to start back up, mimicking me as I keep trying to reach the house but then it goes silent and that white house I was chasing is gone. Turning my head I see it again only this time its on the cliff, the same cliff I remember myself so vividly on when I wanted to jump. I'm sweating now and my adrenaline's pumping as I am now standing in front of the house. The woman isn't facing me but I can hear her whispering something inaudible. " M-mom it's me....its your son Benji". She doesn't turn around and I move closer even though something in the back of my head is telling me to leave her alone, I can't.

This time I try again and project my voice louder in hopes that it would get through to her. " Mom It's me Benjamin...turn around please". The woman stops whispering and I stand there looking at the back of her matted curly brown hair. It felt like hours but slowly,very slowly she turns around and when she does it takes everything in my power not to throw up. My mother...my sweet mother's eyes had been gauged out and her hands were bloody. Did she do that to herself? I felt my stomach tighten up and my lips quivers as I fight to find something to say but she speaks first. " My child look what you have done to me?"

" Wh- what do you mean!? Mom you need some help, let me he-

" You can't help me...You did this to me...you killed your own mother"

" I didn't I-

" YOU KILLED ME" She reaches for my shirt and somehow we land on the ground. I keep trying to tell her I didn't hurt her but it's no use. The smell of decay fills my nose and this time I turn to my side and throw up. My mother...this woman who's been through hell looks at me motionless and I use the opportunity to back myself from under her. Do I run? Scream? Fight her? There was so many things racing through my head and yet all I could do was look at her, feeling my warm tears tricking down my face. Opening my mouth the words barley came out, " What happened to you..." My mother turned her head to the side like a confused dog and then she spoke. " Me? nothing happened, you couldn't keep me around" As she spoke she closed the space between us and I felt my breathing increase as she did so. " YOU COULDN'T"T SAVE ME" My mother lunged at me and I scream and everything goes black and suddenly I can hear a voice again shouting to calm me down. It's my sister and I realize I was having a night terror again.

​

Spoiler

 

[SomatoToup123]

Name: Thomas Greensville


Age: 17


DOB: April 14


Gender: Male


Sexuality: Bisexual, leaning more towards guys.


Nickname: Tom, Tommy


Grade: 12th


Fears: Due to his past, the only thing he's really scared of is losing his mind completely. He's already on the brink, so anything could push him over the edge. He's also scared of dying, but to a certain extent. He knows he's going to die someday, probably soon, but he doesn't want to go without people knowing. But he's mainly scared of his father, who enjoys watching his son cower in fear.


Quirks: He has a dry sense of humor, the type that makes you chuckle because you understand, but shake your head at the cruelness behind it.


Goals: His main goal is to get out of the town and move to the city where he can forget about his nonexistent reason for living.


Addictions: He's heavily addicted to drugs, not so much of the alcohol. He'll do anything that'll get him high, pills, needles, and the works.


Home Life: Thomas' home life and his school life are completely opposite. At home, he's pretty much always in his room. Thomas spends his time getting high and listening to music as he scars up his body. He can't leave his room much, because he knows that if he steps foot outside of his doorway, and it's not for school or to go out with friends, he'll get the shit beaten out of him. Thomas' dad is abusive, but not only is he abusive, but he's the owner of a large company that centers on the welfare of others. No surprise there, right? What rich father doesn't beat his kid nowadays?


Disobey isn't even in his father's vocabulary, because the minute Thomas disagrees with him, he's on the floor with a fresh set of bruises on his chest. But Tom has learned to live with it. It doesn't bother him as much as it used to anymore, and it definitely doesn't bother his good-for-nothing, bitch of a mom. Instead of sticking up for her son and fighting to make things better for him, she sides with his father and tries to pretend that everything is okay.

School Life: Like said earlier, Tom's school life is completely different from his home life. Instead of getting beaten for everything he does, Thomas gets praise from idiots who don't understand anything. He mainly hangs out with the popular idiots, despite him being on any sports teams or picking up mass amounts of girls. He knows other people only like him for his money, but instead of getting mad about it, he just lets things be.


Thomas is the type of cool kid who doesn't give a fuck about anything, accept he isn't really that cool. If he really had to admit it to himself, he's a bit insecure and very much scare of the other kids.


Suicidal Tendencies? He cuts himself, a lot. But not to kill himself, it's really just something he does to get out all of his frustration. When his dad beats him up, he definitely can't fight back, so he releases his energy on his body. He also takes a lot of drugs, which he knows is dangerous, but he doesn't care. He has, however, had a few close calls in the past of overdosing.


How often do they have sex? Maybe once or twice a week, he picks up random hook-ups from clubs.


Have they ever done drugs? If so list them here:


- Coke


- Cigars


- Cigarettes


- Weed


- Prescription Pills


- Pain Killers


- Other under the table shit


Relationships: No definite relationships, just random sex. He did date a girl once back in his freshman year, but it didn't last long.


Writing Sample:


I sat back in my chair, glancing at my fellow peers with a smirk on my face. The smirk, of course, was fake, just like everything else about me, yet no one seemed to notice. Or, they just didn't care. The conversation was about something stupid, probably a football game or something, but the boys around the table were so engrossed in it that no one seemed to notice me slip in my earbuds and turn on my music.


The conversation got tuned out as some rock band came on, 6 Seconds of Winter or something. The music wasn't usually my type, but I liked it, and it came in handy in situations like this when I was bored and the people around me can't entertain me. My eyes slipped closed and I made the mistake of letting my guard down.

I payed the price when I felt a tapping on my shoulder, resulting in me jumping up and shielding my body, my mind automatically thinking of my father. It wasn't until I opened my eyes and saw a very confused looking guy looking at me. Oh, I whispered to myself, finally realizing that I'm in no danger.


"Err, you okay?" He, Jacob, my 'friend', asks me. I nod my head at the question, glancing down and losing the smirk on my face. He nods too, his face shifting from confusion, back to something more happy-go-lucky.


"Did you see the game last night? We were just talking about it." I look across the table at the other guys only to be met by their eager stares. They were probably waiting for me to confirm that I too saw the game and jump into their conversation. I, however, shook my head no and stood up from the table.


"You all know I don't do football, have a good day." I didn't leave any room for argument before I was walking away. It wasn't that I was mad, it's just, didn't feel like being there anymore. Those guys should be used to it by now anyway, they knew they had no control over me. I ended up making my way to my locker and sliding down on the floor, slipping in my ear buds and turning back up my music. My locker turned out to be where I spent the rest of my lunch.



​

 

[Hansel]

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||Name||

"There was a boy named [isaac Elijah Owens], and he almost deserved it."

Isaac Elijah Owens

||Age||

"The young know everything, the middle-aged fear everything, the old believe everything."

20

||DOB||

"And although February is supposedly a month of love, he was the most unlovely person anyone had, had the displeasure of meeting."

February 18, 1995

||Gender||

"Oh how very like a man! And if you say that it is just like a woman to say that you'll be a beastly copy-cat!"

Male

||Sexuality||

"There is no decision that we can make that doesn't come with some kind of sacrifice or balance."

Isaac has never thought much about sexuality, he doesn't know what he is and he doesn't care what he is. And that's that.

(Though I'm sure if he dug a little deeper he'd find that he was most likely demisexual or pansexual. One of the two.)

||Nickname||

"Oh, what use is a nickname if it is longer than your actual name? You dolt."

N/A

||Grade||

"I'm older. There's some sort of seniority. In fact, seniority ebbs as you get older."

He's a Junior in college.

||Fears||

"No one ever told me that grief could feel so very much like fear."

Outwardly, Isaac is seemingly one of the most courageous, or rather indifferent, men most others have met. Yet his fears, fewer though they may be, are significantly more intense than the fears others, they're the nighttime fears that are so deeply ingrained in him that it's nearly impossible to truly face them.

Perhaps his biggest fear is mental illness. He's deathly afraid of people with mental illnesses, and he's even more afraid that he might have one. Both of his parents were psychologically screwed up after all. Everything seems to him as if it might be a mental illness, and so he has a habit of being overly rational to counter this fear. Separating himself socially from others so he doesn't have to compare himself to them and find something wrong.

He's also developed a fear of sex, drugs, illusions, and death. Sex is a simple fear for him, though one he will never admit, he's is only afraid of exposing himself completely someone else, it's not a matter of low self-esteem either or lack of sexual desire or even fear of love (though Isaac definitely has his issues with love, or rather the lack of it) it's only about exposing himself to seemingly any dangers that another may wish to inflict upon him. Drugs scare him because he's seen what they can do, and the level of unawareness it brings to a person freaks him out. Illusions are a fear that's sprouted from, like his fear of sex, a distrust in himself and others, illusions make him feel as if he can't trust himself. A fear of death, feels self-explanatory, though Isaac's fear is more centered around what dying might feel like rather than what comes after.

It may not be his greatest fear, but it is his deepest, most secret fear is a fear of himself. He hasn't figured it yet, but most people seem to have some little fear of their own self. Of their potential to harm, to destroy, everything and anything. Isaac's fear is a fear of his ability to tear himself down, and a fear of his disability to love and be loved. He fears the fact that he is such a terrible existence that he's never been loved by anyone. Or that is what he assumes.

||Quirks||

"My friends tried to ignore my quirks since they didn't know what to do about them. It didn't seem hard on them though. They were already trained to ignore their parents' alcohol abuse, constant bickering, serial marriages, and nonsensical advices."

To most other people Isaac doesn't seem to have the same habits and nervous ticks that most people have. He seems to be a man made of stone. And perhaps that in itself would be his biggest quirk, if it was true that he didn't have any habits.

Isaac clenches his fist when he's tense or thinking, or really in any situation that's high on emotions, it may very well be a conditioned response to any situations he may be uncomfortable in as he's a boxer. And though Isaac is not all that particular about food, he doesn't enjoy most foods but he eats them because he has to, there are certain foods which he can be extremely picky about. He eats salt on grapes, apples, and watermelon, he won't eat pizza with any toppings, other than Italian dressing most times he only eats vinegar on his salad, his favorite chips are wasabi flavored, he always puts extra milk in his macaroni and cheese so it's very runny, he likes to eat cheese, soy sauce, lettuce, and rice all together, he dips his fries in honey, drinks apple cider cold (he hates drinking it warm), he drinks his vodka straight but won't touch beer and milk with ice and cinnamon.

Other than his odd food habits Isaac has a tendency to pop his back after he sits down or picks up a pencil and when he doesn't know what to say in response to someone he'll often just say, "Huh." Instead of thinking of something else.

He always stands with his back to a corner or wall and when he's out in the open he'll hunch over more and keep his arms out and tense more. He also rubs the side of his nose whenever he's confused or exasperated.

||Goals||

"Search for the thing that gives you the most happiness, but do not pursue it at the expense of another, or you will find yourself assaulted by the most sorrowful sort of demon. Loneliness."

Isaac only really has immediate goals, graduate from college, buy dinner for that night, get out of Vanilla Falls, take a dump, avoid social interaction, he lives day to day.

He does have one long-term though, to become a world-champion boxer. Boxing is his only love after all.

||Addictions||

"We all just laughed. Because as we were leaving our support group at the community center, the alcoholic asked us if anyone wanted to go out for a pint.


'Life is so awful, and awfully funny as well.' I told her later as we sat with our beers."

Isaac's addictions are not the sort that most people think of.

He has no addiction to drugs or alcohol or sex, in fact he's terrified of two of those three subjects. He doesn't smoke and he doesn't harm himself, he values his health too much for something like that. Instead the root of Isaac's addiction is obsession. He's never been one to love or to be loved, at all, so his only love is his obsession, his love for boxing. He spends more time in a week working out than he does sleeping or studying, he runs every morning and every evening, he spends more time running than he does talking to others, he spends hours in a gym practicing or working out every day. He works himself to exhaustion boxing, so much so that's it's almost detrimental to his health. The only alcohol he'll drink is vodka, he'll never touched drugs or cigarettes and refuses to even be in the same room as a lit cigarette.

He is the epitome of someone who eats, breathes, and drinks their passion. His gym-mates are scared by his obsession with boxing and working out. But there is some confusion in Isaac mind that the true root of his obsession is a love of boxing. Sometimes he thinks that the real reason for his obsession is an addiction to physical pain and exhaustion. Because while he's terrified of emotional pain, Isaac has never once in his life feared physical pain, it's almost a game to him to see how much pain he can take. The pain that wears him out is the best kind as well, because it's so hard and sore that it's impossible for him to think too deeply about his fear of himself while he's feeling extreme exhaustion. And sometimes he wonders if all this working-out is a sort of self-inflicted punishment for his seeming inability to love others and to be loved. But then he simply goes and works himself to the brink of exhaustion so that the pain will overtake these thoughts.

||Home Life||

"I'm so good at beginnings, but in the end I destroy everything, including myself."

Isaac's family lives in another state. And it's not that he hates his family, but it's not that they're good to him either, it's simply that he never loved them.

Before moving to Vanilla Falls for college, Isaac lived with his mother, father, and younger sister, Renee, in a washed-up house in a washed-up town in Oklahoma. Neither of his parents were mentally stable and both he and his sister knew it, his father seemed to have extreme OCD, becoming violent when things were out of the place that seemed to be correct to him, and sometimes Isaac had even wondered if his father was a psychopath, with his distant and cold attitude towards his family. Isaac wouldn't put it past his mother to marry a psychopath anyway, she was a drug-addict (one whom had been doing drugs since high school, or college maybe) who used the drugs to soothe her paranoia and jittery tendencies. Isaac had never seen a more anxious woman than his mother.

He didn't hate his parents, yet he held no gratitude or love towards them. And they obviously felt similarly. He was indifferent towards his younger sister as well, even if she appeared a kind person. And it was not as if he was afraid to love or he didn't want love, he simply never found it and eventually came to believe that he could not love or be loved, he cannot recognize an emotion that he has only ever felt in small portions. His father physically abused him and his mother and his sister at times, and none of them attempted to protect each other, aside from the protection his sister tried to offer to their mother.

Eventually Isaac discovered that no one in the house really minded if he was gone for an entire day, or two, or a week, and so he would go out and roam the streets by himself, drinking bottles of soda and alcohol left behind by construction workers in developing areas of the town, gambling with teenagers after they got out of school, sleeping in the pews of a local chapel, he enjoyed being on his own, being detached from the world, he had wanderlust.

And so when the time came for him to start college, he moved away to Vanilla Falls not because he wanted to get away from them, his father was abusive but Isaac had never minded physical pain, his mother to didn't care for him and his sister had given up on him long ago, turning to sex as an escape in high school, even though she retained her kindness, but because he wanted to go somewhere where he could wander alone and work himself to exhaustion, pursue his addiction to exhaustion.

Now Isaac lives alone in an apartment, making money by winning boxing matches and working at a local grocery store. He enjoys the solitude.

||School Life||

"And if you couldn't be loved, the next best thing was to be let alone."

He must fit into the loners category, because really nothing else suits him.

Isaac lives alone and he's not very social at all. He has no friends at school, most people leave him well enough alone, and so his school life is very peaceful. A straight shot from home to school and back again.

Occasionally he'll go out for drinks with one of his classmates, but only because his classmate is paying. Isaac only goes to parties for the free drinks (though he hates beer) and gambling as well.

||Suicidal Tendencies||

"A man with no purpose to him and no wish to die, is a dangerous man indeed."

If you asked Isaac if he wanted to kill himself, he'd probably say he didn't really think he did. But it's not as if Isaac hasn't ever thought that it would be very easy just to put a bullet through his skull and have it all be over with.

He understands that a man who cannot seemingly even be loved platonically is a useless, lonely sort of man. But he also thinks it'd be useless to kill himself as well. So he simply keeps on existing.

||How often do they have sex?||

Never. Isaac's a complete virgin.

||Have they ever done drugs?||

"Some say being high is the best feeling ever. They've probably never had a bad trip."

Yes. Isaac's smoked pot once in high school before connecting it with his mother, and he's never touched the stuff since. He won't even have more than one alcoholic drink at a time (Even if he does like some alcohol) because he hates the unawareness it brings.

||Relationships||

N/A

--------------------------------------------

||Sample||

The throbbing in his head reminded him that there was blood pumping, fast and frantic and red, through every muscle, every vein of his entire body, and it was at moments like these that he could consciously feel every pulsing cell of his being. It was a feeling that made him feel simultaneously overly alive and utterly disjointed, like a mass of individual beings pushing and moving as one hyper-aware entity. He strained to move. To push his feet to move his vulnerable head away from danger in a split-second. To spear his fists forward, clenched, and drenched in sweat under the padding of his gloves.

But then he made contact. And it jarred his fist a bit, sending jolts of exhaustion humming through his outstretched arm. He was sure it hurt much more for the other guy. Because the other man was slowing, Isaac hadn't slowed, he never slowed even if his stomach was wound and cramped with exertion and his legs ached treacherously every time they settled on the floor for a moment, and sweat dripped uncomfortably down his forehead and chest and arms, stinging his eyes and matting his hair and the stark light, emitting from niches in ceiling, seemed to seemed to bear down on him, pushing against his very being with heat and exposure.

Then someone, not shouted, rather the man simply had the sort of voice that made one feel a bit sheepish and hesitant,

"That's enough." Isaac lowered his fists only after watching the other man stumble back a few steps, an aftershock, and uncurled his fingers inside his gloves. Then the two men stood panting in uneven, throaty noises before the man across from Isaac gave him a short nod and Isaac turned, pushing himself over the barrier despite the burning tremor which had taken hold of his limbs, throwing him off balanced.

Isaac only let himself collapse once the only noise he could hear was the pounding of icy water from the shower head above him. He didn't care that it was blatantly obvious of him because of the low-hanging shower doors. That's not what mattered. Instead he closed his eyes as he crouched under the water and felt the pulsing of pain wholly.

His skin felt thick and heavy, as if he was small and retracted into the shell of himself, and the cold of the water didn't reach his core and quench the heat circulating through his bloodstream, instead it simply washed away the sweat produced by that heat. And the pain that Isaac felt after working himself for hours was a pain he was sure wasn't the same pain that most people describe as a, "warm, aching afterglow" instead it felt like a sickness, a nausea on the verge of overcoming him, it felt like a barely contained fire that had no place to spread, but that wasn't to say that he hated it. He was used to it, and so he let it sit in the centers of his bones and muscles and the bottom of his stomach and back of his head, it was a familiar pain and so it was almost as comforting as it was terrible.

Eventually though the water seemed to cause the pain to abate, to hide it in the form of a deep and old ache, one that Isaac minded even less. And by the time he left the shower Isaac felt fairly normal, or at least this what normal was meant to feel like he supposed, even if "normal" had never been a completely comfortable state for him. So he left for work.

On his way to work, walking, because what independent college student had ever been able to afford a personal vehicle? Isaac was vaguely aware of his surrounding, they were always the same regardless of whether he was paying attention to them or not, either way. He knew there would be a feral black cat, that froze as he passed it, it's back arching in warning, he knew that he would pass a couple of stoned teenagers in matching home-bleached hair and heavy-soled combat-boots on his way through an alley, he knew that there was a bar, on the same block as his workplace, which had secretly become a place for all of the lesbians and gays to come together and drink and become overly bold, he knew all these things and was indifferent to them. They didn't concern him either way. They were just apart of the scenery. Or rather, he was simply apart of the scenery for the people in these places.

Once he reached his workplace, a small, locally owned grocer that always had at least one broken light and one drunk trying to steal beer from the freezer, Isaac donned a plastic apron he was fairly sure was meant for high school chemistry students, and stood behind the counter for six hours in order to get paid two cents above minimum wage, wondering why he even ever signed up for this job.

And then his manager would give him one look, pat him on the back, and talk, at length, about his latest supposed conquest in bed, keeping most costumers away from the counter until he'd wandered off again, and Isaac would be kindly reminded of why he'd agreed to this job. His manager thought he was mute. After all Isaac had been hired after coming in once to hand in his application without a single word and his manager, conspicuously named Fae, looked him over once. But Fae's assumption about Isaac, one boy of a grand total of five employee, was awfully convenient for the boy himself. Isaac never made small talk, and he heard enough about sex among other students at school that he could mostly just nod along with Fae's stories. Also he wasn't all that fond of actually checking out customers so their aversion to Fae also worked out in Isaac's favor.

Fae liked Isaac too, because the silent young man didn't have a tendency to opt out of his dramatic retellings of his life in the bedroom, like other employees did, and Isaac seemed more to able to persuade the drunks and teenagers from stealing their alcohol than the other employees. That is if anyone even bothered to stop them from stealing it, Isaac wouldn't stop it on his own, only if someone else required it of him. And as such, Isaac was fairly sure by now that they had more alcohol (and cheese-its to go with that alcohol) stolen than the amount they actually sold.

But it wasn't his business either way. It only mattered to Isaac if he was getting paid, and if the grocer went out of business, Isaac would just become a bar tender at the bar across the street or work at the local Walmart. There would always be more awful jobs to apply to even if this grocer shut down.

After work, Isaac would take a different way home than from the direction he came in, the cat and teenagers wouldn't be there now, he was sure. Although there might be even more stoners and drunks at the bar, it didn't matter. And once he got home, a four room apartment with leaks and cracks included to create ambiance, Isaac would turn on the TV.

It was a clunky box TV, one he found in the basement of his families home as he was packing for college. And it wasn't as if Isaac ever watched TV, he had simply taken it on a whim. He flip through the channels, skipping the news, the dramas, the static, and maybe he'd change it to a football game, Isaac had never watched football, or a cooking show. And then he'd stalk into the kitchen and check the fridge.

It was a fridge that always hummed too loudly and stopped working every other day, yet it didn't really concern Isaac because the only items that the refrigerator held were a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka which Isaac couldn't remember opening and freezer-burnt take-out that smelled awfully suspicious and Isaac would never eat, but told himself he didn't want to waste.

After looking in the fridge, as if it had maybe conjured up some food he might actually eat in his absence, Isaac would wander back into the living room, ignoring the buzzing of his flip phone on a linoleum counter. The incessant buzzing might be his sister or his drinking buddy, they were the only two people to who had his number, but he ignored both either way. They didn't ever seem to have much important to say, he only ever heard,

"Hey, do you have some money you can lend me?" or,

"Buy me some birth control when you come back to visit okay? One of my boyfriends who was buying them for me is totally mad at me and won't get me any anymore, it's a real turn-off." From them, and he really didn't ever fulfill these requests.

Isaac would close the blinds of his living room, an oddly nervous buzz in his stomach. And glance at the blinking, red time on the cheap alarm clock he'd put on top of the TV before settling down on the ripping couch that smelled faintly of french-fries and smoke, he'd found it on the side of the road either way. He'd do his homework when he woke up at three in the morning.

And it was only times like these when his eyes were closed and he was completely, utterly alone and small, Isaac let his thoughts run rampant in his head, like beasts or monsters, the sorts of things that children were scared were hidden in their closets and under their beds. He sank into the comfort of silence and his old friend loneliness. In Isaac's awful and heart, where other people might hold their affections and fondness for lovers, friends, pets, and family members, Isaac only held loneliness. Loneliness was his bond, but a bond he held with no one, and he thrived on it because it filled a void, no matter how painful it was, it was a sweet and indulgent pain. It was a pain he could blame the world for, he could blame everyone else for not loving him, for not being lovable enough, even if it always circulated back to himself and he could only seem to sink deeper into his loneliness to comfort himself once again.

He would revel in his loneliness, and then he would momentarily let fear overcome him. What was so different about him that he might not be loved? What was so wrong? Should he be terrified? Should he be calm? Should he disappear completely? Because what weight did his existence hold when it was an existence that did not effect other people? It would probably not matter at all if he disappeared, if he died. Did he even hold anymore importance than an object if he did not feel feelings that might effect others?

But what if the rest of the world was different? What if there was someone who could love him and someone he could love, one person who could shake him to the core and break him of all his fears, what if he had not searched hard enough? Then death was terrifying and useless.

He needed to get out of this cycle. This place.

​

 

[spacepossum]

Jasper

"I was the kid to finger-paint with blood."

​

Our memories

Name


Jasper Arayis


Age/D.O.B.


16 / December 13th, Sagittarius


Gender


Male


Sexuality


Panromantic, bisexual


Grade


Sophomore

blanket us

Fears


Jasper's only fear is someone loving him, an emotion he does not quite understand.


Quirks


- A malicious smile unique to his own when he finds something he likes/forms an excellent plan


- Is obsessively organized and detail-oriented


- Bites his lip when he thinks


Goals


Jasper does not really have any goals other than to die doing what he loves most: torturing or killing.


Addictions


Killing inferior life forms


Succumbing to his insanity


Seeing the fear in people's eyes


Home Life


Jasper lives on his own in what was once his parents' house. His mental instabilities caused him to snap on his parents and end up brutally killing his alcohol dependent mother. Threatening his father's life had he persuaded the man to never say a word and leave him to the house forever. The timid man had easily obliged, leaving the house nearly immediately and taking off in his automobile...that Jasper had rigged to soon explode from a 'faulty engine'.


Because the mortgage was already all paid off, Jasper only had to deal with no power or sewage in his new home, and that was not much of a problem to him. He used prostitution to obtain money for the purchasing of food-related items.

with friends we know

School Life


Jasper misses a lot of school due to his intense emotional instabilities. He often sits at home and forms plans to carry out his suicide, writes out lists of people that he would just love to end the lives of, and torturing his own body for the sheer pleasure of it.


When at school, however, he remains so silent that many people have been led to believe that he is completely mute.


Suicidal Tendencies ?:


Jasper is both incredibly suicidal as well as homicidal. Unlike all of the others, he is willing to kill without question. There is not a single spot of bare skin that he possesses that is not riddled with scars of all directions and burns of all colors. He loves to torture and injure his body in many ways that would cause death because it just feels so pleasant to him.


Every suicide attempt of his had ended in just that; an attempt. He's tried over seven times to end his life, but his body refuses to let it happen, almost as if it has a true will to live.


How Often do they have sex ?


Twice or thrice a week; he only does so to earn money.


After doing it so often has he found it to be a mere chore, and no longer enjoys such prostitution.


"There's no real love in it."


Have they ever done drugs ? If so list them here:


Jasper has never been able to afford any type of drugs, and does not have any real friends.


"Well, bleach is delicious."


Medical Conditions:


- Sociopathy


- Mild Schizophrenia


- Manic Depression


Relationships

like fallout vapors

Writing Example