ADVANCED RP discussion

This is where my charries will be.... birthed.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Shakespeare.♪

Part ×





『 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II 』



Ryker | William | Booth
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→ Of Danish origin, and means “Strong Power”
→ “Desire” is the meaning of this name, and is from Germanic origin
→ Booth means “Dwelling Place”, and is from Scandinavia origin

Ryke ♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡


Overall Gender:
Male ♂
Derived from the: XY Chromosome
Physical Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation:
♀ Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single



Apparent Age: 17
Real Age: 19

Place of Birth: Brooklyn, New York, USA
Race: Caucasian
Ethnicity: German, English, French, Northern Irish

Date of Birth: October 5
Chinese Zodiac Sign: Rat
Zodiac Sign: Libra
Birth Stone: Tourmaline
Birth Flower: Marigold

Time of Birth: 4:43 AM





『 To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
-A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Act II, Scene I 』



Appearance:
Face Claim: Hunter Hayes
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Details
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Hair: Medium blonde, cut short on the sides and rather long on the top
Eyes: A stunning green-brown (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
Height: 5’10
Weight: 164 LBS

Distinguishing Marks
→ A very small amount of stubble grazes his chin and cheeks
→ A thin scar runs just above his left eyebrow
→ Just a few freckles are scattered across his body



Style
Ryker’s clothing is just about the same every day. He often wears fitted cotton, long-sleeved shirts paired with jeans, or a fitted short-sleeve matched with a jacket and jeans.
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『 Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:
And more such days as these to us befall!
-Henry VI Part 2, Act V, Scene III 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××

Personality
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『 Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, who to advance and who
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em;
-The Tempest, Act I, Scene I』

Crucial Aspects
Secretive. Very secretive. There are things that he won’t, and can’t, tell anyone. This isn’t just for his own protection, but for theirs as well. Have you ever done something that you thought would turn out good for everyone, and then suddenly, everyone’s trying to figure out who did this “horrible thing”? That’s the secret that he lives every day. Of course, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t have a second part to his lifestyle, but in reality? When someone figures at least one part of your background out, the truth will come running from your mouth without hesitation.

Around Family
A flash of light, the screech of breaks, blood splatter and the cracking of bones…. Those are the only memories Ryker has of his family. He was just a child, maybe four or five years old when he was sitting in the back of the family car, clapping his hands along to some tune on the radio. His father was driving, and his mother turned around to face the little boy. After that, a horn honked, everyone lurched forward, red liquid splattered against the young boy’s face, and then everything was silent. The boy did not cry, the car that hit them had sped away. Young Ryker sat there silently, wishing, praying that his parents would sit back up right, turn around and smile at him. But no. That didn’t happen, and that never happened. Ryker never spoke to his family again, not extended, not anything.

Around Friends
Don’t think that he acts any differently around friends than he does with other people. Sure, he jokes around with his close friends, but his deepest secrets lie within his own head, and no one will ever get them out of him. Awkward, that’s the best word to describe him around the people he sees every day. Tension is often heavy through the air, forcing him to bring up a random subject to get everyone’s mouth running. He wants to fit in, he wants to be as normal as everyone he interacts with, but that’s not possible. After he started keeping secrets, his life will never be the same as his friends.

Overall
Ryker Booth is a very secretive guy, someone that would rather kill himself than have everyone know about his past, present and future. He’s the kind of guy that would have better luck always living by himself instead of with a friend or lover. His family is gone, his parents and everyone around him. He is the last Booth, the last one to carry out the family name. Considering Ryke’s past with girlfriends, it doesn’t seem likely that any child will carry on his last name. Everything ends up twisted, confused and leads to a fight. He can’t tell anyone the truth, which is why most relationships crash and burn. Yet, maybe one day he’d find someone like him. Someone with a messed up past and future that he can share common ground with.



Likes
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✓ Spring
✓ Cats
✓ Knives
✓ Blood
✓ Night
✓ History
✓ Children
✓ Solitude
✓ Manuscript
✓ Cars



Dislikes
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✗ The Foster Care system
✗ Bad parents
✗ Getting caught
✗ Huge messes
✗ Car crashes
✗ Broken glass
✗ Not being able to keep a girlfriend
✗ Dogs
✗ Loud music
✗ Winter





Strengths
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• Knows body anatomy
• Keeping secrets
• Pushing away memories
• Skilled with a knife

Weaknesses
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• Drinking – alcohol doesn’t settle well in his system
• Keeping a girlfriend
• Faraway targets
• Dogs – he can’t stand them

『''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him;
-As You Like It, Act II, Scene I 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××

『Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
-Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV 』



History
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[The Family History: A Short Biography]

『The wall is high, and yet will I leap down:
Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not!
There's few or none do know me: if they did,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me quite.
I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away:
As good to die and go, as die and stay.
-King John, Act IV, Scene III 』

There is a small fact that most people overlook when it comes to this young boy. Dig deep into his last name. Think back to a long time ago, before the name ever became worldly known. Who else held the surname Booth? An actor. A famous actor that was loved by many young women. John Wilkes Booth. The assassinator behind president Abraham Lincoln’s death. Most people would change their surname if it held that amount of evil, if they knew their bloodline came from a murderer, yet Ryker wears the name with pride. He believes that if he was destined to be related to John W. Booth, then he wouldn’t change the fates. Something made him have this surname, and he wasn’t about to change it to please others.

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A young couple, ready to face the world on their own, start a new life and start their own family, set out on a journey. Yet this journey was something different. This journey lead them to a city with the name Brooklyn, a city full of art and pop culture. The young girl loved the idea, yet the boy? Not so much. He was an athlete, someone that loved sports and exercise. It seemed like an odd mix, yet the couple pulled through. If it wasn’t for a certain surprise, though, their happy potential family would no longer thrive. But what was this surprise? This surprise was a baby, a small boy that never said a word, a boy that always kept to himself. Some would call it a blessing, yet others could tell that something very odd was up with the young child.





[The Early Days: A Summary of the Child]

『 Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
-Othello, Act III, Scene I 』

Note: The following two parts of this character's history is written and conducted in an interview fashion, with I, the creator, being the interviewer.

Ryker Booth was born into a family that were going through difficult times. Before he arrived, his mother and father were both planning on divorcing, but a small blonde child weaved his way into their lives. Due to his appearance, the couple stayed together. It was obvious that the boy was the only reason that the Booth family were together, though. You could see how unhappy his father and mother were together, that the only time either of them cracked a smile was when they were alone with their child.
But then, something else cracked. Smiles faded, hearted were broken, and a small child never saw his parents again. A car crash took the lives of the young couple, instantly taking away their lives to leave Ryker to fend for his little child self. A four year old with no family to go to… Who do you think the state of New York sent him to? Foster Care, that’s who. The small boy would be sent into a system that was hell to get out of. Something that drove people crazy as the jumped back and forth, and side to side from family to family. Nothing was permanent, nothing would be solid. From four years old and out, it seemed like the young boy would always keep to himself.
The first few foster families were very corporative, homes that Ryker would be completely okay if he stayed at. That wasn’t how the system worked, though. No matter how much he cried and screamed to stay, he would always be dragged away from the homes he cared most about. Some of the kids in the system got their way whenever they shed a tear over their lovely family. But Ryke? He was starting to believe that the head of the system had something against him. The woman would look at him like he was insane, like something was different about him, or like he was a monster. He was just a child, though. It was odd for her to be acting this way… Right?

It wasn’t until Ryker actually disliked one family that he understood what was happening. The head of the system wanted to see him suffer, wanted the young boy to be forced through whatever amount of pain that was needed. If he begged to stay, he left. If he begged to leave, he stayed. If only that woman understood how much keeping him with the family who treated him wrongly would affect him in the future.
The family – from the outside looking in – seemed like a delightful family. It was a man and a woman, young, probably in their late twenties, who already had one child of their own. The family wasn’t very wealthy, yet they weren’t dirt poor, either. Ryker believed that he would like this family, and for the first few days, he did. That was, at least, until the father revealed his true self. It was obvious that the man knew he couldn’t touch Ryke, because if he did, the feds would be covering his doorstep. So, instead, the man lashed out on the other child, beating the young girl whenever he had a chance. Ryke had tried to make him stop, but that always led to shouting and things being thrown. By this time, the boy was eight. Four years since his parents death, and five foster families later, he was stuck within an abusive household and there was no way out.
One day, the mother was out of the house, not suspected to come back for at least another hour, and the foster father knew that he could finally do what he did best. He had started to beat the girl, just minutes after her mother had left, and the father did not expect the woman to come back. But smart men plan for mess ups in others’ lives, yet this man was not smart. This man did not plan. The other came back minutes after she had left, because she had forgotten her wallet. Oh, what a sight it was to see the love of your life beating your daughter while your foster son watched, horrified, and huddled in a corner. The woman had screamed, grabbing her daughter as well as Ryker and ran out the door, swiftly dialing the local police station as she shoved the children into the car.
That was the day that the head of the system decided to listen to Ryker. That was the day that he began to get a say in where he lived or not.

The next few years were of the young boy bouncing around from place to place. It was obvious that no one wanted the child, everyone looked at him like he was insane, crazy. Would he ever be treated like a real person? It seemed unlikely. Yet, it wasn’t too late. His thirteenth birthday was approaching, which meant that he would be going into a new rank within the Foster System. Ryker would be able to go to a whole new variety of homes because of his upcoming age, and that was a blessing. Hopefully someone would see good in the kid, see something within him that lit a fire within their heart. Hopefully someone would actually love him, see who he is inside, look past his name and his past. Hopefully someone would see him for who he is.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

Part ××××



『That Katharina and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
-The Taming of the Shrew, Act III, Scene II 』




[The Teenage Years: The Life and Times]

『Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI 』

Age fifteen. Twenty eight foster homes after his parents death. So far, no one had seen good in him. It was crazy how so many people could stare at you – even strangers off the street – and wonder how a human had so much evil in it. The odd part? Ryker didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t know why everyone looked at him like he was insane. He had never done anything, never caused an incident where people had a reason to hate him. There wasn’t anything related to his own past that would lead someone to dislike him.
That is, until he had a dream. It wasn’t an everyday nightmare, either. It was a prophecy that had to be fulfilled. The dream would scare some, but to Ryker it was completely normal. The dream was dark, pitch black until a sharp scream cut through the darkness. Once the shriek was released, color had started to appear. First, scarlet red. Then, more vivid pictures. A body laid limp on the ground, the cold night wind lapping against its still hair. Blood was pooling around its shoulders, a thick gash slicing clean through its trachea. A normal person would wake up in terror, wonder what had possessed their mind to see such an image. But Ryker wasn’t normal. No. Ryker understood what this dream meant, and it wouldn’t turn out good for at least one man.

There was a man, in his early thirties, who lived among the streets of Brooklyn. This man was not a very nice man, yet almost no one knew this. Ryker, though? He knew. He knew because this man was his foster parent. This man had signed up as a foster parent for one reason, and one reason only. To meet young children. Think about it, if you must. If you need a hint to understand, the man would do some not-so-nice things to these children. Ryker knew what this man was. He knew how many children he would hurt if he wasn’t stopped, and he knew that going to jail wouldn’t stop the evil thoughts going within the man’s twisted mind. This is where his dream comes in. This is where he finally saw his actual fate. Ryke had gotten the man alone, dragging him out to an alleyway to end the man’s life. It was a little messy, a little uncoordinated, but it got the job done. He felt accomplished, felt like he did something right. The feeling that was sparked within the fifteen year old boy was something unexplainable, something that he wanted to feel again. The boy felt like he did good for the world since that evil man was gone, and he’d do it a thousand more times if it meant making this earth more clean.
Foster house after foster house, the boy didn’t stop. Year after year, the dead bodies piled up. Ryker never killed for fun, never murdered for the hell of it. No, that never happened. No one ever died “just because”. People died because they were doing evil, forcing others to do things, making everyone else’s lives terrible. Those were what people died for, and if anyone found out that the teenager was causing these deaths, no one would ever trust him again.

Age seventeen, the best day that could ever be humanly possible. It was the day that he’d finally be moving out of the foster care for good. It was the day he could rent his own apartment, get his own job and maybe find his own girlfriend. This was the day everything was supposed to get better, and oh… it really did. Everything seemed to smooth out. He didn’t have to keep everything so secret. He lived on his own, he could speak his thoughts out loud without getting dirty looks, he could bring in his own income without worrying someone would steal from him. Life would get a lot better since he was practically free. The only thing that would make his life better is if he didn’t have to hide his true self, didn’t have to hide his slight obsession with blood lust.




[Early Adulthood: From the Creator's Mind and Hands]

『Who would be jealous then of such a one?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.
-The Comedy of Errors, Act IV, Scene II 』

Ryker William Booth is currently nineteen years old. He lives in a rather small one bedroom apartment, enough space where he can walk around, yet he is looking for a new living quarters. His life is still behind bars, secret to everyone in the outside world. Only he knows about the killings he forces, every drop of blood spilt from the blade of his knife. Ryker lives as normal of a life that he can take, tries to fit in the best he can so the world doesn’t find out about who he is behind closed doors. He tries to put on a mask, fake every bit of his life. So far, it seems to be working. But how long can this young boy keep up an act?



[A Memory: Written in the Perspective of the Character]

『Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself for being there?
-Macbeth, Act V, Scene II 』

I walked down the poorly lit hallway, lights flickering above my head. It was night time, the period of a few hours where evening has passed, yet midnight is still waiting to arrive. It was the time of night that I preferred, that most people preferred, but I, unlike others, did not like this time for entertainment reasons. I did not go out to clubs, movies, or to a lovers home at this time. No, I rarely did anything along those lines. What I did – and what I am doing – at this time of night is a unique event specialized for me. Me, Ryker Booth, is out on the hunt. I am out on a hunt that could save lives, save the lives of the people around me as well as myself. This hunt is important, and it’s vital for me to not screw it up.
For most people, this kind of hunt would be considered insane, and to some, ungodly. If people knew about the type of hunt that I induce on their very streets, I would have more happen to me than just a few “bad names” thrown into my face. The type of hunt I carry out is anything but ordinary. No, my hunt does not include wildlife, it does not include a stand in which I hide behind. My hunt is much more skillful, something that takes time and effort into planning. My hunt is something most wouldn’t dare to do. On my hunt, I murder. But most do not know what I murder. So what is it? People. Yet only the ones that truly deserve it.

I stopped walking, pausing for a few moments to listen to my surroundings. Footsteps. Small, light footsteps. Almost those of a child, but I was better than that. I knew that this person wasn’t a child. They were small, yes, but a child? No. They were much older than a child. I took off, keeping my steps silent as I weaved my way through the cluttered room. My hand gripped the knife incased in it, my knuckles turning white from the pressure be put onto the hilt. This person needed to go, I knew it for a fact. I won’t go into detail with everything they have done, but I will say that they had “gotten rid” of more than just one person. This person in particular might have been like me, just wanting to make the world a little brighter, but they had gotten caught. The police were after them, and it was my job to get rid of them before anything else happened to them or their next victims.
My head jolted to the right, my eyes widening when I sensed a body beside me. A few years ago, it would have been hard for me to tell where someone was standing, but today, it was fairly easy. Just a few steps away, a very petite woman stood with her back away from me, her head down as if she was reading a book or papers. It was my time to shine, to show whoever will find her body my greatest tricks. I’ve done it plenty of times before, but tonight, I knew exactly the places to hit. Every main artery would be severed, and she would bleed out, without a trace of me in sight. I stepped closer, keeping my breathing shallow and my footsteps light, and with one swift motion, I hooked my arm around her neck, bringing my other knife-equipped hand up to slice open her jugular. The woman went limp in my arms, complete dead weight as blood ran down in a stream over the front of her clothes. I picked up her arms, bringing the blade of my knife across the left sides of her wrist to sever the radial arteries, then I reached down and cut open the femoral artery at the base of her thigh. There were two more arteries, in the ankles, but I’ve learned that leaving a gash near the feet doesn’t make them bleed out any faster. My arms released my grip from the woman’s body, allowing her to crumple to the floor.
The job was done, my hands, arms, and torso bloody from the body of someone else. I wasn’t about to apologize, either. They had deserved it, I had finished them off. There wasn’t something bad about it. The only bad thing that came out from this is that my clothing would soon have to be thrown away.



Relationships
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The Immediate Family
→ James Booth – Father
→ Cecilia Booth – Mother

The Deceased
→ James Booth – Father
→ Cecilia Booth - Mother

Miscellaneous
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Questions you may have:
→Why do you think that killing someone will make the world better?
The military kills hundreds of people every day and no one thinks twice about it. We consider this okay because they are the “bad guys”. How is that any different than what I do?

→Is keeping a lover really that hard for you?
Yes, it really is. Most girls can’t stand that I always keep something from them, they feel that I’m constantly hiding something. It’s not like I’m not, it just never works out because I constantly say everything Is okay, the deny that it’s fine, and it goes downhill from there.

→What do most people say when you tell them you’re related to John Wilkes Booth?
I normally don’t say anything about it unless they ask. Most people just think it’s cool, that I’m related to someone in history, you know? I think a lot of people have gotten over the fact that he killed killed the sixteenth president, that he wasn’t necessarily a nice guy, but he was more than just an assassin.

Favorite color:
→ Scarlet

Favorite genre of music:
→ Alternative

『 The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
-All’s Well That Ends Well, Act V, Scene III 』

┌（★ｏ☆）┘ ┌(・。・)┘♪(┌・。・)┌♪♪♪└（★ｏ★）┐♪♪♪(┌・。・)┌┌(・。・)┘♪ ┌（★ｏ☆）┘

(view spoiler)[ ー(￣～￣)ξThis template, ☂ヽ｀、ヽ☂RainFall☂ヽ｀、ヽ☂, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person.ー(￣～￣)ξ (hide spoiler)]

☂"Don't take anything you have for granted."☂

☆*･゜ﾟ･*\(^O^)/*･゜ﾟ･*☆|||Introducing|||☆*･゜ﾟ･*\(^O^)/*･゜ﾟ･*☆



|*・°☆First☆°・*| Lucius
|*・°☆Middle☆°・*| Damien
|*・°☆Last☆°・*| Jinxx
|*・°☆Nickname☆°・*| Lucas
|*・°☆Apparent Age☆°・*| 17
|*・°☆Real Age☆°・*| 143
|*・°☆Birthdate☆°・*| August 21
|*・°☆Location of Birth☆°・*| New Orleans, Louisiana
|*・°☆Species ☆°・*| Vampire

☂"If you want to do something, do it. Don't give a damn about what others think."☂



｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀||Appearance/Features||｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀

|*・°☆Picture(s)☆°・*|


(view spoiler)[
(hide spoiler)]
|*・°☆Hair color/style☆°・*| Originally a light, almost platinum, blond but after being turned he was pressured into dyeing it black to fit in. At the moment it's more of a dirty blond, for his natural color is coming through the black
|*・°☆Eye Color☆°・*| Hazel
|*・°☆Height☆°・*| 5'11
|*・°☆Skin tone☆°・*| Pale. Like a milky white color
|*・°☆Special Markings☆°・*| A small, faded-pink, birthmark on the very nape of his neck.
|*・°☆Style☆°・*| Lucius can be found in clothing that's more for a Saturday-Morning-In, as well one that's laid back and casual. Either way, he's always ready for the day - well... Night.
(view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

☂"Give it time and true love will come to you."☂



｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀||Personality||｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀

|*・°☆Likes☆°・*|
- Tea
- New People
- Nature ~ He misses seeing the bright colors in the sunlight
- Slow Dancing
- Genuinely Nice People
- Grocery Stores

|*・°☆Dislikes☆°・*|
- Loss Of Loved Ones
- Holy Water
- Sunlight
- Fire
- Jazz Music
- Torture



|*・°☆Strengths☆°・*|
- Making People Laugh
- Charming People
- Dancing
- Fitting In
- Can Tell The Time Of Day(Night) By Stars
- Counts Cards With Ease ~ In Other Words, Amazing At Gambling


|*・°☆Weaknesses☆°・*|
- He Can Be Slightly Immature
- Fire
- Holy Water
- Sunlight
- Crosses
- Depending On The Situation, He Can Feel Unwanted

|*・°☆State of Mind☆°・*|
Lucius is sane. Very sane, actually. His mind is of stability for the most part but can be easily upset by the simplest remark towards him. It can be as simple as being the only male vampire with natural blond hair, but either way he will get a little bit upset.
☂"I feel like only half the man I used to be."☂

｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀||History||｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀

|*・°☆Early Childhood☆°・*|
Lucius was born in New Orleans on August 21, 1870. He was born a mundane, to of course mundane parents. They loved him dearly, for he was their one and only child. It was odd, though. Little Lucius was the only child in the Jinxx family to claim blond hair. His father named him Lucius, as it was similar to Lucifer, who was an angel cast down from the heavens - known to the Jinxx family as 'the different angel'. His father always called him Lucius because of the reason he named him. He never changed the way he called his son and wanted him to be able to understand why his name was close to the angel cast down. Lucius' mother on the other hand called him Lucas. She never believed that his real name did justice for him. Lucius was the sweetest child you would ever meet and never did anything wrong. The only real reason he had his name was because of his hair color.
Growing up, Lucius never had an issue with making friends. He could smile and make a person feel at home with ease. It was obvious he was a people person. How could he not be? Everyone in the Louisiana town knew who he was. He was the blond boy that always had a smile on his face. Even at the young age of six, everyone around the city knew who he was. For the most part, he was known due to the fact of who his father was. Lucius' father was the business owner of a downtown store and often let his son stay in the shop with him. Every customer that walked in would look at the dark-haired father and the platinum-blond son and ask where he got it from. It was easy publicity for the child and for some reason, he got used to it.

Around the age of ten, Lucius started to miss more of school. It wasn't because he made the choice, it was because his father was about to pull him out of the education system completely. His mother was sick, deathly sick, and was bedridden due to pneumonia. Everyone was worried and not many people understood what to do. Lucius, for one of the first times in his life, prayed for her well being. The Jinxx family wasn't very religious, so the boy had a small amount of difficulty doing this, but he pulled through. His mother on the other hand didn't... The woman ended up passing away a few days later. None of the local doctors had the equipment to treat her and a funeral was held just a week after. Lucius started to drift away from his immediate family (now just his father) after the death of his mother. He didn't understand why something so bad would ever happen to someone so good.
Despite his drifting apart, the boy still tried to keep up with his school grades. Friends were still made easily and he had great people to comfort him when he had his 'dog days'. But sometimes he just didn't want to be touched. Sometimes he really didn't even want to be around people. These small outbursts of loneliness would affect his later life more than he would ever know....


|*・°☆Adolescence/Young Adulthood☆°・*|
By the age seventeen, Lucius was drifting away from his father even further. There wasn't much of a reason to be around the man anymore, anyway. By this time in his life, the teenage boy should have already been off starting his own family. His father, of course, was a bit disappointed. Who else could carry on the family name? Lucius didn't care. He obviously wasn't ready for a family of his own so he always ignored his father when the idea of marriage was brought up.
In fact, the last conversation he ever had with his father was about his disagreement with marriage. His father was extremely mad one morning, grumbling his usual grumble before heading off to work. But that one particular day was different. His father didn't come back from work that night. Sure, he sometimes stayed late to work on the books or something but as late as 11? No. Something was wrong and that was for sure. Lucius walked down to his father's shop and opened the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he stepping in liquid. Was water spilled? No...It wasn't water. It was blood. His father's blood. Lucius turned on the light switch to see a creature huddle in the back corner, but it was not just a regular creature like a dog or a wolf. It was a vampire and that was easy to tell. It's fangs were out, blood dripping from it's chin. The only words that were running through his mind were 'Oh Shit'. He was frozen to the floor, in shock about everything that was happening but apparently the vampire wasn't through. It lunged forward, taking advantage of the shocked boy to sick its fangs into his neck. The rest from that night was a blur....

Lucius woke up in a dark building. Everything was pitch black and he had to blink a few times for everything to adjust. People were standing beside him, ones with pale skin and ominous blue eyes. They almost seemed not there at all... Then it hit him. Vampires. The leader of the Clan approached him and told him everything about what happened and who he was now. Lucius caught on fast but he still didn't like it.Over the years he had to get over the fact that both his parents were gone and everyone he would ever love would soon disappear as well. It was a lot to get over and his best resolution was to get away from it all and move to a new city.
The boy trapped in a seventeen year old's body packed up everything he owned and moved out to San Diego, California. That's where most people were moving during those days, anyway... So, he decided to follow the flow. Lucius settled in with the San Diego vampire Clan, becoming fast friends with a few of the others their. The only thing that they were very confused about was his hair color. The blond boy was set aside for a few activities because of his different hair color. Due to this, he was pressured into dyeing his hair jet black. This let him join in on a few out-of-town activities, so he wasn't left out and cast side when with the other vampires.

Now, in this day and age, Lucius is trying to get everything settled out all over again. He's sensed a few changes in the downworlder community but not enough to alert someone important. Something seems strange and it's a possibility everything in everyone's life will change very soon. The blond vampire is having a few struggles on his own at the moment. Everything seems to be crashing down on him all over again. He's no longer trying to cover his light-colored hair, so it's mixed with the black to form an odd dirty blond. Not only this, but Lucius just feels like everything is caving in. No one new has even come across him in the past few years and he wants a new friend, if not more. Despite all his marriage bickering with his father, Lucius almost wants to start a family now. But, with being a vampire now, that's not possible. His species barely gets along with any other type. How would he every be able to fine a new friend, much less a girlfriend or a wife?
☂"I just want someone that will fully understand me."☂



｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀||Relationships||｀、、ヽ｀☂ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀

|*・°☆Friends☆°・*|
- Gerard Carson
- Annabeth Hart
- Pete Coy
|*・°☆Lovers☆°・*|
Hasn't had time for any in his lifetime... So none.

|*・°☆Family☆°・*|
- Andrew Jinxx ~ Father deceased
- Maria Jinxx ~ Mother deceased



|*・°☆Other☆°・*|
Lucius is a very sweet boy when you get on his good side but every now and then someone will get on his bad side and see the hellacious side of him(which goes very well with how his name reminded him of Lucifer). Lucius will greet anyone with a smile and/or a warm hug. It all depends on how moody he is that day
|*・°☆Questions You May Be Wanting To Ask☆°・*|
•Where you really all that sad when your father died?
Not as sad as when my mother died, if that's what you're asking.
•Do you have anyone in mind if you were to get married?
Ha. No... Not right now, anyway. But who knows? The person and day might come.
•Do you really want to dye your hair black?
G-..... Um. Hell no. I basically just sold who I am away to fit in. I honestly miss the platinum blond.

☂"If it won't hurt you or others around you, say yes. Always take the experience."☂


┌（★ｏ☆）┘ ┌(・。・)┘♪(┌・。・)┌♪♪♪└（★ｏ★）┐♪♪♪(┌・。・)┌┌(・。・)┘♪ ┌（★ｏ☆）┘

★This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel {Time for an upgrade}. u p g r a d e I n c . ©

★Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]★

★Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella.★

★This template is hereby dubbed 'Promise' in honor of the book/movie Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.★

Part ×





✿Why do I and everyone I love pick people who treat us like we're nothing?
We accept the love we think we deserve.✿



◕Avery | Rose | Lovelace
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
• from French origin and means "Rules With Elf Wisdom"
• this name is Scottish and means "Beautiful Life"
• "Uncontrollable" is the meaning of this name, and is from Gaelic origin

Av ♥♥♥♥
Avie ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥



Overall Gender: Female
Derived from the: X Chromosome
Physical Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single



Apparent Age:18
Real Age: 17

Place of Birth: Brooklyn, New York, USA
Ethnicity: Caucasian

Date of Birth: August 24
Chinese Zodiac Sign: Ox
Zodiac Sign: Virgo
Birth Stone: Peridot
Birth Flower: Gladiolus

Time of Birth: 8:47 PM





✿So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons.
And maybe we'll never know most of them.✿



Appearance:
◕Face Claim: Hayden Panettiere
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕


(view spoiler)[







(hide spoiler)]

◕Details
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
Hair: Sandy blonde with natural, loose beach curls
Eyes: A beautiful silver-gray (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
Height: 5'0"
Weight: 103 LBS

Distinguishing Marks
•Runes
Runes, also known as Marks, are the angelic symbols that Shadowhunters burn into their skin with steles to grant them their various supernatural abilities. Runes are the most common tool of Shadowhunters and are the source of their ability to fight demons. The runes themselves are a complex runic language given to them by Raziel to grant them powers beyond those of mundanes. (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

•Tattoo
A mark part of the body with an indelible design by inserting pigment into punctures in the skin. This girl has a tattoo of words, printed onto her left forearm, that reads "I am not afraid I was born to do this" (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]



◕Style
Avery is a very classic girl, wearing comfortable dresses on her off time, but when she isn't wondering around the town, she has to go into a more... protective look. When on the job, she will wear dark skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket.
(view spoiler)[

(hide spoiler)]
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕





✿I would die for you.
But I won't live for you.✿



◕Abilities
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
Shadowhunter:
Shadowhunters, also known as Nephilim or Children of Nephilim, are a secretive race of beings who are humans born with angelic blood. They are the appointed warriors on Earth of the Angel Raziel. They are appointed specifically to control and preside over the Shadow World, as well as over the demons and Downworlders who inhabit it. They have fought the demonic forces valiantly for well over the span of a thousand years, creating their own culture and civilization within human society. Their mandate is to keep the peace in the Shadow World and keep it hidden from the mundane world while protecting the inhabitants of both worlds. Despite their ancestry, Shadowhunters are mortal and therefore vulnerable to old age and death; however, their angelic blood endows them with special abilities that allow them to achieve feats beyond humanly possible through the application of angelic runes.


Location of Discovery: Birth
Initial Reaction: Amazed

★This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel {Time for an upgrade}. u p g r a d e I n c . ©

★Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]★

★Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella.★

★This template is hereby dubbed 'Promise' in honor of the book/movie Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.★

Part ××

◕Personality
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕



✿That's why I'm trying not to think.
I just want it all to stop spinning.✿

Crucial Aspects
"Don't you dare think I can't behead you because of my stature!"
Avery knows that she isn't necessarily tall, everyone around her knows it as well, but she has confidence out the ying yang. This girl isn't afraid to walk straight up to the toughest-looking biker, point her finger right in his face, and him to get lost. Not only does this spitfire stare at the face of death and spit at it with confidence, she also as a very touchy, emotional side. Some things are stitched close to her heart, and when these things are threatened or disappear from her life, she's a wreck for quite a while. Most people have learned to not bring up these touchy subjects, but others do it just for the hell of it.

Around Family
"Get out of my room, you little brat."
Colt Lovelace, a spunky little fifteen year old that's practically wrapped around Avery's finger. Some would say that the kid has a switchblade attitude, but with all honesty, he's a sweetheart. Colt, though? He would never admit it. The boy thinks that he's the most bad ass Shadowhunter there is. He doesn't care what people think of him, but he does treat everyone like royalty. Unless the kid is around his older sister, he doesn't say a harsh word. Around Avery, Colt gets just a little annoying. He thinks that it's perfectly okay to mess around with your sibling, which is true. Avery doesn't mind when her little brother messes around with her, but she does have her limits. There are some things that she won't discuss with her brother, won't even bring up, and some days she doesn't want to see his face at all. As for her parents, Avery doesn't speak to them. Both her mother and her father are always used to be wrapped up with the Clave, spending their day and nights with the older Shadowhunters of Idris. And now, with both of her parents gone, it's obvious to say that Avery has practically raised her younger brother, as well as herself.

Around Friends
"You're going to Starbucks? Mocha Frappe? You know the drill!"
Crazy, wild, insane... Real. When around her best friend, Avery becomes a whole new person. Sarcastic, hilarious, and bubbly. Sylvana is her better half, the girl that cries with her on the bad days and points out hot guys on the good. There isn't many dull moments in their history together, and Avery is very grateful of that. Not a thing could separate these best friends, not brainwashing and definitely not death. Avery and Sylvana are inseparable, and if you tried to sever their friendship, they'd most likely sever your head.

Opinions
"Avery... What a girl. She's a beauty, that's for sure. I wouldn't be able to live without her, so I'm glad that she's my best friend. We're partners in crime, she's my wingwoman, I go to her with issues, and she comes to me. I couldn't picture my life without her. Sure, she can be a little annoying at times, a little protective over her brother, but that's just what makes her even better. Avery is the kind of girl that's so tough and badass that you want her to look over your children and keep them protected, but she's also one of those girls that are so tender and sweet that you want her to be the mother of your children. A lot of different personalities, it's easy to say, but without that girl I would be completely lost." -Sylvana Townsend, best friend

"Sometimes I like to imagine what it'll be like when Avery moves away from the Institute to start her own life, maybe get a husband and have a few kids... But I hate that thought. If I didn't see her every day, I probably would go crazy. She keeps me sane, helps me when I need it, tells me right from wrong. She raised me, basically, if that helps with my case. I find it funny that everyone around here thinks she's so tough. Really, though. Have they seen her whenever she's at home? Without all the crowd? She's one of the most sensitive people I know. There are some things I can't even mention to her or she gets all teary-eyed and choked up. I'm surprised that she's dated people. With everything she's been through, I don't see how those guys contain her. But, with all honesty, Avery is one of the best people I know, and I wouldn't trade her for the world. -Colt Lovelace, brother

Overall
Avery lives a very mixed-up life. Since she realized that she would have to raise up her younger brother as well as herself, the girl tried to get her life together. And, by getting her life together, this means she put on a fake act. Avery now tries to be the best Shadowhunter anyone has seen, fighting demon ass to her fullest and never looking back. The truth? Avery's past constantly haunts her, forcing her to keep back every emotion until she is behind confined, closed doors. Almost no one sees her cry, and if you do, you're probably very close to her.



◕Likes
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
✓ Kittens
✓ Cute Guys
✓ Colt Lovelace
✓ Coffee
✓ Sylvana Townsend
✓ Fashion
✓ Cuddling
✓ Meds
✓ Reading
✓ Summer



◕Dislikes
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
✗ Car Crashes
✗ Demons
✗ Feeling Hopeless
✗ Memories
✗ Not Being Liked
✗ Nightmares
✗ Clubs
✗ Big Dogs
✗ Inconsiderate People
✗ Surfing





◕Strengths
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
• Demon Fighting
• Persuasive
• Pushing Away Thoughts
• Hiding Secrets
• Loving

◕Weaknesses
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕
• Family/Friends
• Memories
• Night Terrors
• Sweets
• New Shoes

✿But it was a hopeful kind of sad.
The kind of sad that just takes time.✿

★This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel {Time for an upgrade}. u p g r a d e I n c . ©

★This template is hereby dubbed 'Promise' in honor of the book/movie Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.★

Part ×××

✿We were just there together.
And that was enough.✿



◕History
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕



[The Early Days: A Summary of the Child]

✿Maybe it's sad that these are now memories.
And maybe it's not sad.✿

A beautiful little girl, born at seven pounds, eleven ounces, was brought into the world on August 24th. Her parents were joyful of her birth, knowing that they'd be able to give her the best items, the most love, the warmest hugs. Some would say that the family was rich, others would say well off. The Lovelace's, though? What did they say about their money? They didn't believe it affected anyone, let alone themselves. They believed that as long as the Clave was intact, and as long as Shadowhunter as well as Downworlders lived together in peace, their dollars shouldn't have any amount of affect on the well-being of others.
Although the parents of this new child believed that money wasn't everything, it was easy to say that they gave their daughter anything and everything she wanted. Avery Rose, a beautiful bright-eyed Shadowhunter, knew that she had her parents wrapped around her finger from day one. If she cried, she'd get exactly what she was hoping for. If the young girl pointed to a toy, an animal, an article of clothing, she would have it by the next day. Yes, you could say she was spoiled, but she knew her limits. Avery didn't want to grow up as a stuck-up child, one that relied to "daddy" every day and every night. No. Even though she could get all she wanted, she never pushed it. This young girl had a lot of things in mind that she wished for as a child, yet she never spoke them out loud. The only time she ever went overboard with gift ideas was around her birthday, when she knew her parents wouldn't settle with "No, I don't want that" as an answer.

Two short years after her birth, Avery's mother set her down to have a very important talk. The young girl would no longer be an only child, for her mother was pregnant with a baby boy. Of course, she was weary at first. How would this new brother handle the family life? Would he adjust to all the money as well as she did? Either way, Avery knew that this new sibling would be fun. Brother or sister, no matter what, she would love the child with all her heart.
Within months, tiny Colt was brought into the crazy world. A little blonde boy with no thoughts or opinions on the world was now breathing within their home. Avery catered to his every need, helping out her parents with the new baby as time went on. She could tell that her little brother would end up being a great being, someone that she could trust and someone that would never go against the rules. After all, every older sibling wanted their younger brother to be that way, right?

As the years went on, Avery grew up right alongside her little brother. They did everything together, never leaving the other one out of an event. It was easy to say that they were practically best friends. Since their parents had enough money, it was decided that the two siblings would be home schooled by tutors while they went off for Clave business. The children didn't mind, for they got to spend more time with each other, as well as stay home all day. But did they understand why they were being left for home? Why they weren't at the institute with the other young Shadowhunter children? They didn't understand, and they probably never would.
The parents to these young children were trying to keep them away from their destiny. They knew how much trouble they could get into when fighting demons, they knew the risks that children in training had to take, and they didn't want to put their young children in the role. They didn't want to put them into the place of making a sacrifice of life or death. Yet that's what Shadowhunters are known for, their commitment and loyalty, so keeping them locked away and hidden wouldn't help anyone's case.

After a few years passed, Avery's mother decided that it was time to take the whole family on a trip. Most children would be ecstatic for this, a family trip, but not these children. These children had gotten used to their home life, and it turned out that they did not like the outside world. If they were raised to never leave the house, why would they want to now? Eventually, Colt had talked his older sister into being excited for this, and Avery actually put on a good act. The idea had never made a settling thought among her mind, and the idea of taking a trip outside of their home brushed her very much the wrong way. Easy to say, her hunch was tilted towards the truth.
It wasn't more than twenty minutes into this car trip when the most drastic change ever happened. It was the middle of the night, street lamps and headlights guiding them an easy passage among the road. 'Easy Passage' wasn't exactly what the Lovelace family received, although. A car had drifted into the other lane, hitting the two parents and two children head-on. It was a terrifying moment, one that Avery would never forget. Bright LED light shining into her grey eyes, forcing her to squint. She believed that the other car had just forgotten to turn off their brights, she did not believe what happened next would actually happen. Their car jerked, pushing her against the side of the car door and Colt up against her shoulder. At that moment, she knew what had happened, and as a good older sister, she wrapped her arms around her younger brother. A sharp screech cut through the air, one of metal rubbing against metal. The lights were even brighter than before. Avery felt wet liquid splash against her face yet she would not look up, refusing to watch the scene taking place. No, she wouldn't even let Colt up to watch. Cracking echoed through out the car. Cracking, snapping, cracking, snapping... Those are the noises she remembers. After that, it went dead silent. She was holding her breath, Colt was hyperventilating, and her parents? At that moment, she looked up. Her parents were gone. Dead. Wiped away from the world because of one simple incident.

Avery had gotten her and her brother out of the car, walking back to where she knew home was. If they could get home, they could call the Clave, get a hold of some type of Institute. She knew that's all she had to do, and by daylight, the young siblings were back at their home. The Clave showed up at their door within minutes, saying that the New York Institute would gladly take them in. Avery was weary of this, but agreed, since that's what a normal child would have done. At the simple age of eleven her parents were taken away from her, being left with a nine year old brother to raise. Yes, she was terrified. Terrified of their new living quarters, terrified that the rest of her life would be mixed up, terrified that she'd never be able to get her life back on track... But hey, that's life.






[The Teenage Years: The Life and Times]

✿And even if somebody else has it much worse,
that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have.✿

Two years after the accident, two years after Avery officially lived at the Institute, she met a girl. This girl's name was Sylvana, and this girl had just had her thirteenth birthday, just like Avery. Sylvana was a special kind of person, the aura she put off instantly making her want to cling to the girl. She wasn't like the other girls around, stuck up their nose and not willing to give anyone a chance. No, this girl was open, willing to make new friends, and that's exactly what Avery shot for.

Over the weeks, the two girls became very close. Their bond was one that couldn't be copied. They shared secrets, clothes, histories. They cried, they laughed, the joked around... Friends forever, that's what you could describe them as. The two girls decided that they would make their friendship official, and by doing this, the young girls became Parabatai. It wasn't that hard to tell how their friendship would work over the years. You could easily see that Sylvana was the wild one, the one willing to jump out on a limb to do the insane. She was a risk taker, someone not afraid to die. She was a Shadowhunter, that was for sure. Avery, though? Avery kept to herself. She hid away secrets from her past that gave her night terrors, waking her up in the dead of sleep in a cold sweat as she let out a blood curdling scream. The secrets of her past would always be locked up tightly inside of her, yet other than that, the girl was ready for anything. She picked up demon fighting easily, learning out to work a seraph blade and other types of knives. She knew which Downworlders were which, and how to spot what's what just by a simple glance. Avery couldn't believe that her parents wanted to keep all of this fro her and Colt. She couldn't see why her mother and father wished to make them live normal lives when they obviously weren't normal. Why would anyone hide the truth from their children?

As the years went on, Avery realized who she was and who she wasn't. She wasn't so big demon-fighter, but she put on the act so she didn't let anyone down. She wasn't the girl that attracted the guys, she never was. She wasn't someone that forgot things easily. She was the girl that never forgot the worst part of her life. She was the girl that took meds for nightmares. She was the girl that loved her brother and no other guy. She was the girl who was actually really emotional. But her real self? Almost no one knows about that half. She keeps it away, only letting it free when she's alone and behind closed doors. No, no one should be able to see the part of you that no one likes. At least, that's how she sees it.
Even now, at the age of seventeen, Avery can't see herself being anything more than a Shadowhunter with secrets. She can't see herself being in a relationship, or even starting a family. Honestly, she sees how Colt can progress more than she ever could. Productivity was for Sylvana, not for her. Since that dreadful night, Avery can't help but wonder why she wasn't taken as well as her parents.

★This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel {Time for an upgrade}. u p g r a d e I n c . ©

★Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]★

★Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella.★

★This template is hereby dubbed 'Promise' in honor of the book/movie Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.★

Part ××××



✿The inside jokes weren't jokes anymore.
They had become stories.✿

◕Relationships
◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕

The Immediate Family
• Oliver Lovelace - Father
• Cynthia Lovelace - Mother
• Colt Lovelace - Brother, 15 (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

The Close Friends
• Sylvana Townsend - Parabatai

The Lovers
• None... Not yet anyway

The Enemies
• Demons
• (occasionally) Downworlders

The Deceased
• Oliver Lovelace - Father
• Cynthia Lovelace - Mother

✿It's much easier to not know things sometimes.
Things change and friends leave.
And life doesn't stop for anybody.
I wanted to laugh.
Or maybe get mad.
Or maybe shrug at how strange everybody was, especially me.
I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and than make the choice to share it with other people.
You can't just sit their and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love.
You just can't.
You have to do things.
I'm going to do what I want to do.
I'm going to be who I really am.
And I'm going to figure out what that is.
And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn't do or what they didn't know.
I don't know.
I guess there could always be someone to blame.
It's just different.
Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there.
Because it's okay to feel things.
I was really there.
And that was enough to make me feel infinite.
I feel infinite.✿

(view spoiler)[[[ (☆^O^★)ξThis template, Find me later, is brought to you by ©Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Ella, and Carlene.ξ(☆^O^★)]] (hide spoiler)]]

ℙart One

[﹍﹎Ƹ̵̡ ℕameƷ﹍﹎]
│⋱First⋰│ Joseph
∰Meaning/Origin∰ Of Hebrew origin, and means “Increase”, or “Addition”
│⋱Middle⋰│ Richard
∰Meaning/Origin∰ Of English origin, and means “Strong Ruler”
│⋱Last⋰| Fields
∰Meaning/Origin∰ Of French origin, and means “Open Land”

│⋱Nickname⋰| Joey



❝You’re what you love, not who loves you.❞



[Information For You]

{๑Age๑} 18
{{๑Place of birth๑} Seattle, Washington, USA
{๑DOB๑}> February 14
{๑Gender๑} Male
{๑Sexual Orientation๑} Heterosexual
{๑Occupation๑} Barista at Starbucks



❝Everyone has issues, but not everyone will share them.❞



[﹍﹎Appearance﹍﹎]


(view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

{Height} 5’5”
{Weight} 132 LBS
{Hair} A strawberry blonde color, styled to where it can be gelled up or pushed down over his forehead
{Skin} Very slightly tanned, yet still a natural peach color
{Eye Color} Sea Green (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
{Style} Joey usually wears comfortable clothing that is easy to get around in. Something such as a long-sleeved button-up with jeans, or a cotton shirt pared with a leather jacket and dark-washed skinny jeans. He’s not that picky, but there definitely are some things he wouldn’t dare to wear.
{Special Items/Markings}
He has glasses, so he occasionally wears them
Countless scars cover his hands from over the years
❝I don’t advise you go to Starbucks at night. Only creepers and hookers come out at that time. ❞



﹍﹎Lets Get Personal﹍﹎

⁀ ‿ ⁀



⊱Likes⊰
⁕ Dancing
⁕ Singing
⁕ Playing Guitar
⁕ Coffee
⁕ The Truth

If you step back and look at the world, there are a lot of people into music. But Joey? Joey is one of the people you could say is obsessed with it. Not only does he walk around work humming a song he wrote, or one from a band he listens to, whenever he gets home he sits down and dedicates at least an hour to song-writing and practicing. Some would say he takes music too seriously, but after all, he is trying to start a career. Other than music, his likes have a wide variety. In order to work at Starbucks, you have to have a love for coffee, which he does. It’s his go-to drink, which is why some people call him a hipster. Of course, his occasional sweater wearing and glasses does add to the hipster effect. “The Truth” is just one more thing he likes. It’s odd having to list this, but it’s important to Joey. In his past, he’s been lied to, taken the wrong way, and it’s hard for him now to want to see anything but the truth. His life’s mixed up, and lies don’t settle well among his mind.



⊱Dislikes⊰
⁕ Not Being Given A Chance
⁕ Liars
⁕ Spicy Food
⁕ His Past
⁕ Being Called Short
⁕ Ice In Soft Drinks

Not many people look at Joey and think that he has potential, which aggravates him just a bit. He believes that you shouldn’t judge someone because of their looks or their past, but rather who they are as of today. Due to this, whenever he gets dirty looks or gets turned down for a task, he can get pissed off. Other than that, his dislikes jump around from categories. His stature is a big part of his dislikes. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy his height, but he is a little on the short side. Standing at five feet, five inches, he’s always been one of the shortest guys he knows. Because of this, he doesn’t appreciate the words “you’re short” being uttered from ones lips. It doesn’t get on his nerves, just brushes him the wrong way a little. Most of his dislikes aren’t a huge deal, for he’s generally a happy person, but get on his bad side and you won’t like what he has to say.

❝Sometimes I think I have a better relationship with music than I do with people.❞



⊱Phobia(s)/Fear(s)⊰
⁕ Loosing His Voice
⁕ Never Starting A Family
⁕ Lizards
⁕ Getting Fired

⊱Skills⊰
⁕ Singing
⁕ Coffee Making
⁕ Playing Guitar

⊱Strengths⊰
⁕ Music
⁕ Keeping Hope
⁕ Loving
⁕ Forgiving

⊱Weaknesses⊰
⁕ Donations
⁕ The Hurt
⁕ Courage
⁕ Deja Blue Water

⊱State of Mind⊰
Joey is sane, that’s easy to see, but he does have some struggles that can drive him up a wall from time to time.

⊱Hobbies/Quirks⊰
• Coffee ~ Although Joey works at Starbucks, he often makes drinks regularly off-duty for himself and friends
• Singing ~ This is one thing that Joey does daily, even if someone is standing right beside him
• Embarrassing ~ Joey is one of those people that will greatly go on a limb to make someone he loves have a great time, even if that means embarrassing himself

❝Don’t get me wrong, I loved being a child, but being an adult is a hell of a lot better than before.❞

ℙart Two

(view spoiler)[[[ (☆^O^★)ξThis template, Find me later, is brought to you by ©Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Ella, and Carlene.ξ(☆^O^★)]] (hide spoiler)]]

☀﹍﹎☁﹍﹎≈﹍﹎ℋistory﹍﹎≈﹍﹎☁﹍﹎☀



⇼The Early Years ⇼
Born on one of the most celebrated holidays, Joseph Fields came into the lives of two young parents on a foggy day in Seattle. He, as said by his parents, was the best Valentine’s Day gift anyone could ask for. The day of his birth wasn’t expected to be the 14th, no. But rather the child was expected to be born the week before, which is why when his surprise on Valentine’s Day got his parents excited. Of course, much like every other newborn child, Joseph was fussy. The young boy never kept silent, screaming over the simplest thing and keeping his parents up from dusk ‘til dawn. Nothing would make the child keep still and keep quiet except for one thing. This one thing was music. Believe it or not, no matter what music was playing, the young boy would be quiet and listen. It astonished his parents at first, but then they learned to keep music playing at all times. After this realization, the child barely spoke a word, his bright eyes wide as he happily listened to the tunes. Little did his parents know, but this love and passion for music would follow Joey way into his teenage years.

As the boy grew, so did his music. Once his parents believed he was old enough, they hired a piano teacher to show him the works. The child couldn’t have been more than five when he picked up the instrument, playing every day and every night to improve his skills. Within months the boy could play the piano like a pro, no longer needing a teacher to guide him. His parents could tell how much ability he had, how much he could accomplish later on in his life if this gift was encouraged.
By the age of seven, Joey could play an arrange of instruments. Piano, guitar, drums, saxophone and he was learning trumpet. His parents decided to send him to the best music prodigy school in Washington there was, which honestly, made him really happy. Not only did he get to meet new people, but he also got to work on the one thing he loved; music. Once he was enrolled into this school, it was obvious that he did not belong. Joey was great with music, he had a love for it that no one could deny, but there was something about these other kids. They were stuck up, coming from rich families, and they could get anything that they wanted. Him, though? His family wasn’t that wealthy. Even with his young age, he knew that his family wasn’t as well off as the other children. He knew that this school wasn’t for him, and he wrote home every day saying how much he hated the school, hoping that his parents would cave and let him come home. Luckily, his letters worked, and his stay at the school would be no more.

After the failed schooling at the best school in Washington, Joey’s parents decided that he should be able to choose where he wanted to go to. Since the young boy wanted nothing to do with the rich of the state, he decided on public school, a place where any big dreams would be crushed and he could live a – hopefully – peaceful life. Some would call him crazy for his choices, but he admired them dearly. His parents couldn’t believe that this is what he wanted, but they let him follow his dream of public school. It’s easy to say that he didn’t really want to go here for schooling, but it was better than being alongside of people that didn’t care what anyone thought. It was better than being around people that he couldn’t become friends with… Or so he thought.

Public school was a great idea, at least it was for the first few weeks. Joey had started the new school when he was quite young, but after a few years, it had turned for the worse. When he was twelve, everyone started to treat him differently. His old friends turned their backs against him, spreading rumors that weren’t true whereas the people he hadn’t talked to brought up his name for reasons that were anything but good. Joey was left to wonder what he had done wrong, what had turned everyone against him and why he suddenly felt like nothing was going right. It came along with public school, that’s what his mother had told him, but he wouldn’t settle for that answer. He wouldn’t settle for anything being told to him or about him. He wanted to fully understand why this was happening, but that didn’t seem likely. From his standpoint, it looked like he’d be forced to sit through the lies until he finished high school, which didn’t sound like a very fun idea.

Joey was practically being shunned by every child within the school. He was bullied as well, but kept that part of his story hidden from his parents. Almost every day the same boys would gang up on him, pushing him against walls and lockers until he was out of breath. He was repeatedly beaten because of what he enjoyed, because he wrote his music, because he sang, because he liked who he was. Every day the boy would come home with a new type of bruise, scrape, or cut, but he always hid this from his parents, for if they knew, they would interfere. Some would say that interfering would be a good thing, but interfering would cause his parents to get involved. And, if this happened, he would be surely taken out of public school. So, as a compromise, the pre-teen gave up what he loved. He stopped playing music, stopped writing music, stopped singing… He did all of this to fit in, to make people like him more. But the real question is, did it work?
Not exactly.

It turns out that the boys weren’t tag-teaming him because of his likes, but rather because he was him. Some people didn’t like others for no apparent reason, and that’s what happened with Joey. He was disliked because he was disliked, there was no real reason. So, he gave up his one love for something that didn’t matter. The boy gave up everything that defined him to try and fit in, and it wasn’t even the problem. Would he be able to get back into the things he once loved? Or would he be forced to walk through life with his head hanging down because he gave up everything he once was? Somewhere in between, that’s where he stood. It was easy to pick a few things back up, such as vocals and guitar, but as for the rest of his music? Joseph decided to sit those down for a while longer, if not forever. Playing guitar was cool, and if you could sing, there was a chance you could start a band. Needless to say, the kid never got back to his old music roots, but he did try and keep a little bit of his past alive. All he wished for was to be able to express what he wanted to without being judged, but even at his young age, he could see how this would be hard to do.

ℙart Three

(view spoiler)[[[ (☆^O^★)ξThis template, Find me later, is brought to you by ©Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Ella, and Carlene.ξ(☆^O^★)]] (hide spoiler)]]]


⇼The Later Years ⇼
As the years went on, Joey kept more and more to himself. He rarely spoke out on his opinions or thoughts, almost never talking to anyone except his family. In his early teen years – fourteen and fifteen – he barely had any friends, so talking so anyone in general wasn’t something he was good at. It wasn’t until he met a new group of people within his school that he started to open up. This new group of people were like him, people that rarely opened up to the world, and each and every one of them had a passion for the same thing. Music.
At first, it was uncomfortable for him to be around people with the same interests are him. He didn’t quite understand that it was alright to let yourself open up, to let people get a taste of the real you, and it took him a while before he got comfortable to say anything personal in front of these people. When he did let this group of people see who he really was, they accepted him for something a lot more than a troubled fifteen year old with a love for the genres.

Joey made friendships that he hoped would last forever. He met two people in particular that helped him whenever he was down, and these two people are the only two people he’d ever call his best friends. Jacob and Rachael were the only ones that ever tried to talk to him and keep the conversation going. They understood his likes and dislikes, they shared some of them as well, but there was one thing that they didn’t share. Each one of them played a different instrument. Yes, Joey could play multiple, but he only had one as his strong point. Jacob played bass, Rachael drums, and him? Joey was vocals, as well as guitar. That had everything for a small-town garage band, and that’s exactly what they did.
Every day the three of them would meet up at his house, bringing their instruments into the garage. It wasn’t like Joey’s parents cared, they were honestly happy that their son found friends he could actually do things with. Within weeks, the small group of teens were beginning to sound professional. Not only were they writing their own songs, they were putting their music out there, trying to get others around the town to listen. It wasn’t until Jacob brought it up that everyone realized they were missing something. A band name. How could they even try to be official if they didn’t have something to call themselves? It took a while, but eventually everyone agreed on one name. Fire Around Virtue. It was a name that wasn’t terrible, but wouldn’t have people storming in flocks to get a good look, it was a name that fit them perfectly.

As the months went on, Joey became more and more attached to his music. It was one thing that kept him going when nothing else could. Not only this, but there was something else he was starting to get attached to. Rachael. The spunky little blonde drummer was almost everything he could think about. Day and night his mind wouldn’t set the girl down, every love song he wrote was personally dedicated her, every heartfelt lyric coming from a piece of paper, out of his lips were to her. It was a hard thing to admit, but the kid was in love. Days after the realization hit him, he got up the courage to ask her out. Of course, he didn’t have the strength to say anything verbally, so he pulled her aside, bringing out his guitar and let all of the mushy love lyrics spill out. Rachael had agreed to becoming his girlfriend, and that’s where everything started.
Everything was going smoothly. Fire Around Virtue was bringing in small amounts of money from things such as talent shows and playing on the streets. Joseph had a girlfriend for over a year, his parents weren’t riding his case as harshly as before, and he wasn’t placed around stuck-ups any longer. His life was going smoothly. Everything was going smoothly. Him and Racheal, now both at the age of sixteen, were coming up on their one-year anniversary. He had plans for a small dinner out, but her? She had complete different plans entirely, ones that even he was surprised to see.
It wasn’t a late night, the streetlights weren’t even cut on yet, but what he walked into was definitely something that could light up the whole of Seattle. Racheal’s parents weren’t totally strict, so when he knocked on the door, they told him she was up in her room. Joey was a good boy, they trusted him, and he knew that if he knocked on his girlfriend’s door, she’d answer in a hurry. But, his brain obviously wasn’t working that night, let alone hers. Once he turned the corner that lead to her room, his knuckles rapped against the wood of the door, pushing it open and saying a short greeting as he took a few small steps inside.
Rachael sat there, or rather laid there, with her arms wrapped around another boy. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much if he didn’t know who she was with, if he wasn’t best friends with the boy all over his girlfriend. Jacob was being more than just friendly with her, but either way, it hurt. It hurt seeing his girl with another person, and it hurt even more when Jacob bolted out of her room whenever the door was opened. It hurt seeing how much he had practiced the act before, practiced fleeing from the sight of the girl’s parents or boyfriend. It hurt. Everything just hurt. Rachael had tried to reason with him, tried to get him to stay and talk it out, but Joey wouldn’t have it. No, he was done with all of the lies and the drama. He thought that all of that was over when he met those two people, but it obviously wasn’t At that moment, he just wanted to run away from it all. Run away from who he was supposed to be, who he wasn’t and every expectation. He knew that he couldn’t, but he wanted to.

A year passed and Joey was still trying to recover. He was seventeen now, his first real job being settled into his own hands. It wasn’t much, but working as a Barista in Starbucks did pay $9 an hour, not including tips. His parents were glad he was finally getting up on his own two feet. The only thing they were concerned about was his old band, the one that made progress before a certain event happened. Joey, of course, had dropped the whole thought on Fire Around Virtue, never thinking about the songs they made or the memories why playing. The past was the past, and he was well over it. Music, however, was still a big part in his life. His work manager knew this - you could see it in the young boy’s eyes - and let him be in charge of the music around the café. It was a big responsibility, yes, but the man knew that he’d be able to pick out music just about everyone enjoyed. And, within time, maybe he’d even get to play his own music out on the shop floor.
Another year passed, the same job stayed, no girlfriend slid into his life. Joey made sure to keep his music as a part of his life, for if he lost it for another time, there wouldn’t be much of him left. He decided that it was for the best if he tried to make a solo career, starting up his own band called “Royals Without Genocide” as second job. It wasn’t a lot of work considering all he did was occasionally write songs, record them, and slap them onto a CD. This stage of his life is where he is today. Age eighteen with the weight of the past still following him. It’s odd how certain events will never leave your mind no matter how hard you will them away, but he’s grown used to them. Joey’s just wishing for a new face to come into his life, someone that he could share a bed with at night underneath the roof of his apartment. Someone that he might be able to actually start a family with someday. But for now, he lives alone, facing every day with a smile in hopes that it’ll get better.

❝C’mon, life. When are you going to be perfect?❞




﹍﹎ℱamily and ℛelationships﹍﹎

♡Family♡

Mother Kimberly Fields
Father Simon Fields

♡ℒovers♡
Racheal Greene - Ex

♡ℂlose Friends♡
Racheal Greene
Jacob Moore

¿ ℚuestions You May Want To Ask ¿

“Do you wish you wish you still played more than one instrument?"
Not really, no. I do wish I still played piano, though. It was the first thing I learned and I’m kinda bummed I set it down.

"Why did you choose to work at Starbucks?"
It pays good money, at least it does compared to the other jobs teenagers could get. Besides, it’s what was hiring and it turns around I’m pretty decent at making coffee.

"What was your initial reaction when you saw that Racheal was cheating with Jacob?"
Confused, honestly, but then I was angry. After all, who wouldn’t be when you see your best friend latched onto your girlfriend?

"Do you believe that your new band, Royals Without Genocide, will be a hit?"
It all depends who supports me by listening. Honestly, a solo career probably won’t be as good as a full on band, but it’s worth a shot. I totally do hope that I can get paid on a regular basis for music, though. That’d be great.

ℱavorite Memory/Song Lyrics
When Rome’s in ruins, we are the lions, free of the Coliseums.
In poison places, we are anti-venom, we’re the beginning of the end.
But tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds, it’s all over now.
Before it has begun, we’ve already won.

❝I’m more of a hopeless romantic than a hipster.❞

♪♪(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪


(view spoiler)[ ξThis template, ★(●´∀｀●)Take me as I am or fuck off(●´∀｀●) ★, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, and Carlene my amazing baby sister <3ξ (hide spoiler)]

⚓My beliefs will run through everything I do. My beliefs, my values are my anchor and when people try to drag me, as I know they will, it is to that sense of right and wrong, that sense of who I am and what I believe, to which I will always hold.⚓



♪"Living this life isn’t something you should be proud of."♪

メ★お♪メζ｀ヽ｀| Introducing ｀ヽ｀|ζメ♪お★メ



*☆♪First♪☆* Michael
*☆♪Last♪☆* Gierisch
*☆♪Nickname♪☆* Mikey
*☆♪Birthdate♪☆* January 22
*☆♪Location of Birth♪☆* Dayton, OH, USA
*☆♪Age♪☆* 19
*☆♪Sexuality♪☆* Heterosexual
*☆♪Side♪☆* Outsider
*☆♪Nationality♪☆* American
*☆♪Ethnicity ♪☆* German, English, Afro-Jamaican




(^O^☆♪' Appearance '♪☆^O^)

*☆♪Pics/Gifs♪☆*



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(hide spoiler)]
*☆♪Hair Color♪☆* Black
*☆♪Style♪☆* No particular style, usually just rolls out of bed in the morning and is ready to go. Occasionally, he’ll run his fingers through his hair but there is no exact method.
*☆♪Eye Color♪☆* Hazel
*☆♪Height♪☆* 5’9
*☆♪Build♪☆* Athletic, broad shoulders, muscles, definitely fit

*☆♪Skin tone♪☆* An even bronze
*☆♪Special Markings♪☆*
A “tattoo” on the inside of his right forearm with the numbers 43627
Many different tattoos cover this boy’s body
• A bat with a heart/skull inside on his lower abdomen just below the navel
• A winged keyhole on his left shoulder
• A barbed wire tattoo on his upper chest near his neck
• An owl on his left arm near his wrist
• Another keyhole on his wrist with the words "Be Free”
• An arm sleeve tattoo of characters from "The Nightmare before Christmas," including Jack Skellington
• On his right middle finger, a star between 2 and R. This means "second star to the right,"
• On the back of Mikey’s left arm is an image from the film "Howl's Moving Castle"
• On his calf is a portrait of label maker and Cobra Starship frontman, Gabe Saporta's face along with the inscription "Gabey Baby Made Me Go Bad”
• A design of the earth tattooed on his lower back
• A large heart design on the back of his neck.
• A "Stay Gold" tattoo on his right arm near his wrist
• There is a diamond design on his left bicep
(view spoiler)[[image error]AAAA1s/mYF-CKsVSwk/s400/pete+wentz+bat+tattoo.jpg>







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*☆♪Style♪☆*
Mikey usually wears fitted t-shirts, jeans and regularly a hoodie, and, usually, doesn’t wear anything else but that. Most of the time you’ll find him without a shirt since of his location, but it all depends on how he’s feeling. You either take him as he is, or you don’t take him at all.



♪"Why try and fix ourselves when we can’t even fix this world?"♪

⚓Hopefully, any character I play has an anchor in reality.⚓


(^O^☆♪' Personality '♪☆^O^)



*☆♪Likes♪☆*
σ Swimming
σ Drinking
σ Fighting
σ Tattoos
σ Smoking


*☆♪Dislikes♪☆*
σ Trivana and Hevesa
σ Missing socks
σ Getting up early
σ Tea
σ Being told “no”




*☆♪Strengths♪☆*
σ Combat
σ Alcohol Capability
σ Seductive
σ Stubborn
σ Deliberative

*☆♪Weaknesses♪☆*
σ Relator
σ Inclusiveness
σ Empathy
σ Socialism
σ Deliberation



*☆♪State of Mind♪☆*
Teetering on the edge of insanity. He went through a traumatic event in his younger life, which still has him just a little shaken up, but for the most part he is sane, most people just don’t see it.

*☆♪Hobbies/Quirks♪☆*
• Drinking•
Mikey has a small issue with drinking whenever he feels the need to, which is just something that comes along with him. Sometimes he drinks too much, sometimes he feels like he doesn’t drink that much at all.
•Swimming•
There aren’t many water sources around anymore, but Mikey always seems to find a way to cool off in a shallow pond, lake, or stream.
•Smoking•
It started off as a stress-reliever, but now it’s a habit he can’t quit. Even with his busy life, he goes through at least a pack and a half a week, depending on how much free time he has on his hands. Sometimes he even leaves an unlit cigarette in his mouth just in case a fire source comes into play while he’s out and about.





♪"We’re all going to hell so we might as well go out in style."♪

⚓Music Anchors You To Your Soul⚓

Part Two
(^O^☆♪' History '♪☆^O^)






*☆♪Early Childhood♪☆*
Born on a rather cold day in late January, Michael Gierisch was brought into a family that knew what was coming in the world. Some people feared the young parents, stepping off of the streets whenever they walked past to avoid coming in contact. The people didn’t understand exactly what was wrong with the young parents, but they knew that something was happening, and it wasn’t normal. When little baby Michael came into play, his parent’s situation with the others around just got worse. No one wanted to talk to a family with odd parents, who have just given birth to a most-likely odd son.
Mikey never understood why people gave him and his parents weird looks. He never really got a firm grasp on the terrified eyes that were laid upon him. Whenever he was a primary school, he didn’t know why some teachers refused to show him lessons, why other students wouldn’t sit down next to him in class or at the lunch table. It wasn’t until someone told him very bluntly what was wrong with him and his family that he understood, at least a little, about what was going on. A woman around her middle ages approached him while he was playing in the park sandbox, her dull eyes wondering if she should take her next action. Six year old Michael was curious, surprised that someone was coming to him instead of running away. The woman was nice and spoke in a slow, easy tone. She was someone that the child believed he could trust, he didn’t think she would tell him something that he would later question for most of his life. The woman asked if he knew what was wrong with his parents, and Mikey answered no. After this, the woman sat down in the sand with him, talking to him slowly to make sure he understood what she was saying. She said that his parents were different than everyone else, that before him they claimed to see things that other people could not. She explained why others believed that their whole family was crazy, and it all revolved around one thing. Mikey’s parents claimed that they saw things, saw people who did not really exist. These people told his parents about the future, about what would happen in later years, and that their son would play a large role in the world when his time comes. The woman explained how whenever they claimed to see someone, no one else could see who they were talking about, as if the other person completely disappeared. The woman’s explanation didn’t last long, for Michael’s mother saw a stranger was speaking with him, and soon dragged him away to leave for home. Little did young Michael know, but what this woman told him would affect his life for a long time.

Age nine. Everything was changing and nothing seemed to stay the same. Michael was confused on what was happening, and clung with fear to his mother and father. The simple city of Dayton seemed to be crumbling to pieces, the whole state of Ohio was cracking open to reveal riots, the United States was rebelling against something that not many people would guess would happened. The people of the States were taking over the government, lighting various buildings on fire and refusing to go with anything they were told. Mikey’s parents tried to shield his eyes from what was happening, but fate wouldn’t let him stay away. Fate forced him to look head-on at the events happening around him, to stare blankly at the fiery flames that licked at his feet. No matter how much his mother covered his eyes, the world always found a way to make him see a small part in the riots of the streets.
It wasn’t until a few months after these riots started that the unthinkable happened. Michael’s father was part of a group of people who tried to calm down everything around them. These people went out into the fire-exposed, rioting cities and put their foot down, doing everything they can to make the angry people not destroy the world. Of course, sometimes others get confused. The government didn’t understand that this group of people were trying to help, and they sent out forces to contain them. Just like any other “peaceful” action being made at this time, the government went out and killed these so called rioters. Not only did they bring an end to the people causing the actual problem, they shut off the group that included Mikey’s father.
The news was devastating, something that Michael nor his mother knew how to handle, but they tried to continue on with life as if nothing happened. It was hard for the young boy to act like he never had a father, that it had always been him and his mother from day one. Every memory of the man seemed to vanish as the days passed, and it wasn’t long until Michael rarely ever recalled his father to his mind. Riots were still going on, the government was fighting back, trying to use every powerful force they had to keep the citizens in line. A new form of people were made, people who tried to save the innocent from the madness around. These people went door to door to families who had nothing to do with the rebellion and took them under their wing, saying that the families would have to drop everything and go if they wanted to be safe. Most people went with ease, grabbing a few articles of clothing and leaving without a care in the world. But when this new group of people made their way to Mikey’s home, he refused to depart with them.
His mother tried her best to coax him into leaving, but the child would not budge. Even at nine years old, he knew that going with these people would cause anything but good fortune. One of the men at the door had said he’d be willing to throw the child over his shoulder and take him that way, but his mother refused. The boy would have to leave on his own free will, and that didn’t seem like it would happen soon. Michael had drawn himself into a corner of the living room, his knees being hugged to his chest as he violently shook his head whenever these new people tried to speak with him. These people weren’t necessarily authority, and he knew he didn’t exactly have to listen to them, but when his mother had enough of the screaming and crying, Mikey finally understood why they were being dragged away from their home. His mother had walked over to him, crouching down to look him in the eyes. She explained that they needed to leave because it wasn’t safe, that the riots were becoming out of hand and the government was trying harder to fight back, which lead to dangerous situations in the suburban cities. His mother told him that these people here right now would take them to a safe place, somewhere they could live without being within five feet of torture, but he didn’t believe it. Honestly, he’d rather stay in the risk of being shocked to death than to leave with these new men and women. His mother had turned to one of the men, saying that she’d be alright if he picked up her son so they could leave. Mikey was terrified, that was for sure, and when the muscular man threw him over his shoulder, it definitely didn’t make anything better.

Part 3
a continuation
An hour passed, Michael and his mother were finally at their destination. But, just like with every “perfect ending”, there was a catch. Each being was categorized into a different slot, being separated into cabin spaces by ages, sex, and the ability to communicate well with others. Your family no longer mattered unless you were a mother with a newborn baby. Other than that, your rights to see your family were stripped away, the only meeting time being before, during, and after meals. When they arrived at this so called paradise, Mikey was hesitant to go with a different woman, for he didn’t wish to leave the side of his mother, yet he eventually went, taking one glance back behind him before a door closed, separating him and his mother’s warm eyes.
Michael was pushed into a line with a lot of other kids around his age. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to say something that wasn’t right, or a sentence that would irritate another. Once the line ahead of him had begun to clear out, he knew that something was up. It was almost his turn to talk to the man sitting behind a desk, to answer a few questions and told to walk through a specific door. It wasn’t until he actually stood in front of the man that he began to have chills. “Age?” The man asked, not moving his head to look up. His voice was monotone, almost as if he hadn’t felt feeling in years. Life must be so bland without adventure, without someone or something beside you edging you forward. Michael had replied with a mousy “Nine.” At this point, the man looked up, giving him a quick roll-over with his eyes and nodding softly. He had said to go through the second door (which Mikey had identified as the door which young children with sheepish personalities go to), and talk to the woman waiting on the other side. He did as told, but quickly realized he really didn’t like this supposedly better place. The woman on the other side of the door had smiled to him, she seemed quite nice, and showed him around the cabin he’d be staying in for the rest of the time. Mikey got to pick out his own bunk, which was underneath a kid that didn’t look much older than him and had pictures of his family taped around the wooden paneling. It wasn’t a comfortable mattress, but it was something.

A few months passed and Michael had started to get homesick. Going days, or even weeks, without seeing your mother wasn’t a great feeling, let alone that his father was forever gone. It turned out that his initial feeling about this place was correct. It wasn’t a good place, it was basically one huge safety-bubble that never let the outside come to you, or you go to the outside. It was safe, yes, but was it oh so boring.
When the outside world had worsened, their protected life had gotten worse with it. The overpowering government had created a base – or rather camp – full of the people would didn’t get the chance to escape to this “happy place”. They called themselves Trivana, a place where torture and public whippings were practiced. Not a nice place, that was for sure. It wasn’t long until the practical prison Michael was staying in named themselves Hevesa, even giving the housing a slogan; “The Alice’s before the rabbit hole.” Comforting, isn’t it? It seemed to be more of a threat, at least it looked that way to inhabitants within the children’s cabin.
Since the creation of Trivana, the confinement within the walls of the Hevesa safe house had gotten worse. They wanted to make sure that each and every inhabitant would be able to be recognized in case they were stolen, which lead to a series of numbers to be placed on the inside of their right forearm. Everyone got one, not matter how old or young you were. Infants to the elderly were forced to sit under the pressure of a needle, just in case they were taken away from this godforsaken place. Michael couldn’t look away while the numbers were being applied, couldn’t help but stare as the ink was being injected through layers of his skin. It didn’t hurt, no, but it fascinated him. Every day and every night he would run his fingers over the five simple numbers, reading and rereading the digits at any and every point he got. 43627. 43627. 43627. Those five digits were etched into his mind by the end of the day, a code of recognition that he wouldn’t ever seem to forget.
Even with the tattoo being placed onto his skin, Michael had no influence to stay at Hevesa. Even before day one at this place he wanted to go home, but right now, home didn’t seem like an option. Whatever little bit of outside world he got to see, everything looked like rubble. You couldn’t tell one part of the city from the other, let alone one part of the country from the other. It all looked dull, every single street putting off a grey feeling. It was bad enough seeing it through pictures on a screen, but living in those conditions was something he couldn’t begin to imagine. But, even with seeing the outside world, Mikey wanted out. Yes, he knew that by doing this he’d never see any part of his family again, but it was practically like that anyway. How much different would it be? He’d be living alone, on the streets or in a lonely environment. It didn’t seem like that bad of an idea, so what would be wrong about leaving? He had a plan to escape when they had their 30 minutes of “fresh air time”. The outside arena was surrounded by a metal fence, something that he’d be able to jump if he tried hard enough. Even as a small nine year old, the boy knew he’d be able to run fast and run far. And that’s what he did, never thinking twice and never looking back.

Michael didn’t know where he was. He saw a woodland area, knowing that he’d be able to find some sort of food or water source within the trees, so that’s where he hid first. The environment wasn’t for him, though, that was obvious. With every step he took, a briar bush would run across his legs, thorns scraping up his shins and calves. Antibiotic wasn’t something he had an unlimited supply to, so he knew he had to find a new place to inhabit. The walking continued, followed by some running whenever it was needed. No one came looking for him, at least that’s what he believed. Hevesa never sent out troops to look for a small boy with a tattooed arm, Trivana never went in search for an escapee to drag back to their practically prison camp. He was safe – at least safe from the government forces – and that was all that mattered.
A desert. Sand, blistering heat, and cool caves. It was the perfect place, somewhere he knew he’d be able to survive. It wasn’t much, no, but the caves went deeper than he once believed. They went back into the earth, giving him protection from any type of search that might have been put onto him or another escapee. It wouldn’t be a temporary home, this one would be permanent. This was the place he’d stay for the rest of his life, with or without a companion beside him.

Part Four


*☆♪Young Adulthood♪☆*
Years passed and nine year old Michael Gierisch grew into a young teenager. For years he had been the only one within his own mind, making up stories and telling himself how the future will eventually change. Everything seemed to stay the same. He was alone. The world was in ruins. Everything was split into two groups. His father was deceased, his mother who knows where. Common thoughts often ran through his mind, his own brain asking itself if it would like to get out of this rut. He asked himself if he would even welcome another person into his life or if it would be him forever. Children were questioned, if he would ever get close enough to start a family. Most of these answers were no, but that’s life. He grew up with no one liking his family, grew up with everyone thinking they were insane, then he was dragged away from everything he ever knew, forced to live among strangers his age until he was done with it all and ran away to live in a sand-filled desert. A perfect life, right? It wasn’t the best, that was for sure, but it’s all Mikey ever knew.

At age sixteen, he had started to go a little insane. Going so long without hearing another person’s voice can drive one crazy, put them into a state that is anything but mentally stable. Michael had packed up what few belongings he had, stuffing them into a tattered backpack and set out to go find civilization. Was he going back to his old ways? Going back to Hevesa or even joining Trivana? No, not at all, but he would go where his feet carried him. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was even back in his hometown, unsure if he had traced his steps from all those years ago back to the exact city, but he had seen life. It was all still grey, dreary and bleak. The boy had gotten into Trivana, a place that seemed to be anything but happy. Children were crying, hungry families walking around the streets with tired faces, once-successful businessmen trying to make it through the day just to return home to speak to their tired and frustrated wives. Nothing about this town was beautiful, nothing was vibrant, and Mikey didn’t understand how lucky he was being alone in that desert until an old man had approached him. An interesting conversation, yes, but it had opened his eyes to a new perspective of the world. The man had asked if he had come from Hevesa, clearly hinting at the branded numbers against his arm. Michael had nodded, replying with a short summery of what had happened over the years, saying that he ran away when he was younger and wanted a check-up on society. The man’s face seemed to be weathered as if he spent years upon years out in the rain. But his face didn’t hold him back from telling Mikey the truth. No, the truth spilled out like a freshwater spring. “Society can’t change back when this much damage has been caused,” the man replied, staring Michael right in the eyes. “The world will always be like this, so you’re better off leaving this town and go back into hiding.” At first, the words were hard to contemplate, but then everything made sense. Too much had happened, and there wasn’t enough time in the world to change it back to normal. Everything was gone, smashed down by the very own people that live within the walls. He hadn’t said another word to the man, just backed away silently and left the city for good. Even if the sandy desert wasn’t entertaining, it was home. It was a place that drove him to wits end, yet it was one of the only places he felt relativity safe.

Even now, years upon years after he left Hevesa for good, Michael still wishes the world would return to normal. He wished for the bright sunshine all over the streets, the tall buildings hovering above his head instead of sitting in piles at his feet. He wishes for the day where people aren’t kept in “safety camps”, hoping to see the time where his home is an actual home and not the back of a deep cavern. Maybe that day won’t ever happen, but dreams aren’t just for sleeping. For a dream to become real, you have to believe.



♪"Is it possible to even help the hopeless?”♪



(^O^☆♪' Relationship(s) '♪☆^O^)

*☆♪Family♪☆*
• Jonathon Gierisch – Father deceased
• Rachel Gierisch - Mother

*☆♪Friends♪☆*
• No one, at least not yet

*☆♪Lovers♪☆*
• There’s no time

*☆♪Other♪☆*
Michael has no record of any siblings, for his father passed away when he was quite young, but his mother may or may not have given him a half-sibling after he had ran away.

*☆♪A Memory/Song♪☆*
Oh if you only knew what we’ve been up to; I guarantee you’d keep it secret.
So give it to me now, we’re lost in a dream now. Do it one more time.
In the Vegas light where villains spend the weekend, the deep end, we’re swimming with the sharks until we drown.
The Vegas lights, the lies and affectations, sensation. We’re winning ‘til the curtains coming down.



♪"Can you save my bastard soul?"♪





⚓People are looking for stability in a shaky world. They want something they can get hold of that's firm and sure and an anchor in the midst of all of this instability in which they're living.⚓


♪♪(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪♪⚓(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Shakespeare.♪

Part ×



[image error] character gif

『 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II 』



Erik | James | Gerard | Calamity
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→ Of Scandinavian origin, the meaning of Erik is "ruler of all"
→ James is of Hebrew origin, and means "supplanter".
→ This name comes from England as well as Ireland, and means “spear brave”
→ A unique surname that comes from the English origin, and means “sudden damage” or “a disaster”



Overall Gender:
Male ♂
Derived from the: XY Chromosome
Physical Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation:
♀ Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single



Apparent Age: 23
Real Age: 20

Place of Birth: Paris, France
Ethnicity: Caucasian

Date of Birth: October 25th
Chinese Zodiac Sign: Dog
Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
Birth Stone: Opal
Birth Flower: Marigold

Time of Birth: 12:52 AM



[image error] character gif

『 To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
-A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Act II, Scene I 』



Appearance:
Face Claim: Sam Claflin
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(view spoiler)[







(hide spoiler)]

Details
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Hair: Deep, dirty blonde that people often mistake for brunette
Eyes: A hypnotizing blue-green (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
Height: 6’2
Weight: 185

Distinguishing Marks
→ Three –healed – white marks start at the top of his right shoulder and go down to his elbow
→ A thin layer of scruff constantly covers his cheeks and chin
→ Tattoo of a Devil’s Trap is located on the left side of his chest (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
→ A tattoo on the inside of his right bicep in the French language that reads “Liberté égalité fraternité” and means “Liberty equality fraternity” in the English language (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]




Style
Erik normally has no clothing preference but often wears loosely-fitted t-shirts, jeans and comfortable boots. Depending on the situation, his clothes will change, but for the most part, he just throws on what he has available.
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『 Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:
And more such days as these to us befall!
-Henry VI Part 2, Act V, Scene III 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××

Personality
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『 Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, who to advance and who
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em;
-The Tempest, Act I, Scene I』

Crucial Aspects
Erik is someone that you either enjoy being around or you find a little insane. He’s dedicated to his work, willing to do anything to get the answers he was looking for, and won’t bend his likes or dislikes for anyone. Some call him stubborn, others call him odd. It all depends on your own preferences and how you judge others. Some love him to death whereas most want him out of their sight. He, honestly, doesn’t mind what you think about him. Treat him like a human and he’ll be fine with whatever you’re thoughts on him are.

Around Family
Hateful thoughts are the majority of things that come to mind whenever he thinks of his family. His father wasn’t around most of his childhood due to unfixable causes, his mother working mostly at night, which left him alone for a long period of time. When he got a little older, he had mixed feelings with his mother, and then no feelings for her at all. The two grew separate, never talking to each other again. Erik has a stepfather, as well as a younger stepsister, but they never came into play when it settled down to the basics in life. He’s never had a strong bond with his family, so he’s never really considered how he is around the people.

Around Friends
Not many people enjoy the company of the young man, staring at him like he’s not one that is like them, one that’s not normal. However, when he does find someone who does not judge him about his lifestyle choices, they usually become fairly close. This rarely happens, but it’s not unheard of. Erik is grateful of whenever someone comes up to him with no fear, glad that at least one person believes he’s normal. Most wouldn’t consider him a friend, much more someone they encounter on a daily basis. He’s not someone that would go out into the world in search of friendly companions, so when he’s alone, it doesn’t bother him much.

Opinions
“I’ve heard really good things about Erik.” A girl around the age of thirteen at in a big leather chair across from an interviewer. “Honestly, I’ve never technically met him, but there’s a lot of pictures of him around the house, and I’m constantly being told stories. I think he moved out of the house a year before my dad married his mom, which of course makes us stepsiblings. Whenever I do something wrong, I always get told by my stepmom that “Erik would never have done that!”. She always looks so sad when she talks about him, though. She says she doesn’t miss him, but I truly think she does. Every now and then I get told that I act like him, that I do things that are similar to his actions. He seems like a nice guy, but how would I know? I’ve never really met him….” Annette Favre, stepsister

A man sat down in a chair, raising his eyebrows at the man across from him.“You want to know what I think on Erik Calamity? First of all, what the hell kind of last name is Calamity? It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, it’s like he’s asking for something wrong to just go on in his life. He’s that crazy guy that lives across from me, right? The one obsessed with summoning spirits or whatever? A freak, totally creeps me out. And the way he just bursts out into French whenever something bad happens? Who does that? He’s not normal, he’s a complete freak. No one should ever talk to him, not as long as he’s like how he is now.” Jules Williams, neighbor

Overall
Erik Calamity tries not to be noticed, but his control easily slips out of his grasp. Most try to avoid him, giving him awkward stares or glances as he’s walking down the streets, but some are nice, friendly. Some give him a welcoming smile, like nothing is wrong with him. He sees nothing abnormal about himself, so why should anyone else? The immigrant tries his best to fit in, to blend into the customs of the country he’s currently in, but even in his home country people stared at him like he was insane. You learn to live with some things, and that’s exactly what Erik did. He learned.



Phobias
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♦ Agateophobia- Fear of insanity.
♦ Anuptaphobia- Fear of staying single
♦ Equinophobia- Fear of horses
♦ Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia- Fear of the number 666
♦ Tuberculophobia- Fear of tuberculosis

Likes
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✓ Ghosts/Spirits
✓ France
✓ Alcohol
✓ Music
✓ Nighttime
✓ Fall
✓ Calligraphy
✓ Airplanes
✓ Dogs
✓ Granite



Dislikes
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✗ Diseases
✗ Demons
✗ Hell
✗ Horses
✗ Not Having A Girlfriend
✗ Being Called Crazy
✗ His Family
✗ Tea
✗ Unreasonably Priced Clothing
✗ Spaghetti





Strengths
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• Deliberative
• Communication
• Empathy
• Responsibility
• Self-Assurance

Weaknesses
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• Holds Grudges
• Competition
• Positivity
• Fast-Paced
• Brutally Honest

『''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him;
-As You Like It, Act II, Scene I 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××



『Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
-Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV 』



History
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[The Family History: A Short Biography]

『The wall is high, and yet will I leap down:
Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not!
There's few or none do know me: if they did,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me quite.
I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away:
As good to die and go, as die and stay.
-King John, Act IV, Scene III 』

“Je t'aime,” a young woman whispered to a boy next to her, pressing her lips against his ear. The year was 1945, just a little over a few months after World War II had ended. Soldiers had begun to return home, and the boy next to this lovely girl was one of them. The couple lived in a country that had become quite poor and weakened by the war, yet their love was as strong as ever. France had become something much different, just like all the other countries, but still, you could find your way around the place if you knew where to go. The boy looked down at the girl, his eyes looking over her somewhat distraught face. “What is it?” he asked, stepping backwards to get a better look. She shook her head once, weary if she should even tell him the truth. Something was going on, something big that would change both of their lives forever. There was a secret she had kept from him, from everyone, for the past few weeks, and it wasn’t until this very moment that she decided it was time to spill it out. “We’re having a baby.” The young girl squeaked out, looking up towards her lovers face. The light within his eyes sparked up, and his voice was far more than excited. “Un bébé?” he asked with a small hint of a laugh. “A baby,” she confirmed, her smile widening as the seconds passed.
Twenty three years down the road…
A once-small child has grown up into a strong young man. This man’s name is Ethan, and it fairly obvious how smitten he had become with the pretty lady to his left. The two were engaged, their hearts leaping with joy for their upcoming lives. A wedding was planned, the date set and everything in order. A new home was yet to be purchased, the couple hoping for a small one-bedroom layout with a small kitchenette. It would not have to be too big, for they did not wish to expand their family, but sometimes fate had other plans. The spring breeze blew softly around the trees in the park, curving its way around the shop signs printed in French. The girl beside Ethan looked up at him, tugging at his hand to get him to stop walking. Her green eyes were bright, shining with glee and anticipation. The boy was hesitant, wondering if he should ask what was on her mind, but the girl was ahead of him, her nerves jumping ahead to get everything right to the point. “It’s a boy,” she whispered, blinking back tears of happiness. It took a moment before be completely understood. This young couple would have to look for a home bigger than one bedroom.
Twenty six short years later….
Everything seemed to change over the years. Nothing was the same. Fads faded, new things came in, it seemed to be the boom of everything new. Jason Calamity was approaching his late twenties, his now wife following shortly behind him. The duo believed they were invincible. Since day one they would never follow the rules, go against everything they were every told just because they believed that their way was the right way. When they first met at eighteen years old, they knew that the lives they were living previously were nothing compared to the one they had together. The couple took one look at the dreary city they lived in and fled, running away and taking off to live in one city everyone dreamed of… Paris. The city for lovers is where they went, and let’s just say they fit in very well. It wasn’t until one day that Jason started to regret his choices. His lover, Annette, had news that almost brought him to his knees. She was pregnant, and there was nothing he could do about it. A baby was coming their way, a baby that wasn’t planned and a baby he didn’t particularly like. But a baby was a baby, and he wasn’t about to leave his beautiful wife because of something he wasn’t sure if he could handle.





[The Early Days: A Summary of the Child]

『 Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
-Othello, Act III, Scene I 』

Erik was born on a particularly cold day in October, the Paris weather not being very nice to the temperature of the delivery room. Everything was freezing, the stainless steel giving the tips of your fingers frostbite, the air drifting around sending shivers down your spine. It took every ounce of effort from the doctors and nurses to keep the newborn baby alive and well, but everything went according to plan. The next day, he went home, settling within the safety of the Calamity family’s own walls. There was only one problem, and that problem lay right in the center of the family. The father of the child was not as enthusiastic as the boy’s mother was about his birth. His father had not expected him to come, had not expecting and extension to their family other than just him and his wife. Yet little baby Erik had come along, forcing the young father to cancel almost every plan he had. It took a while, but the father-son duo soon learned to deal with each other.
As the child grew, it was obvious to everyone how attached he became to his mother. The woman never left his side, tending to his every need and want whenever it was possible. Easy enough to say, the young boy was coddled since day one. Everything was smooth, going great until one day something changed. One day, something happened that was so drastic, everything seemed to disintegrate. At first, it did not seem all too terrible, but the event was the traumatic part.

Erik Calamity was only five years old when it happened. He was in the simple years when something happened that would stick with him forever. The young boy was being picked up from preschool, his father coming to get him instead of his mother for she was stuck at her job. His father was not very happy that he had to pick up his son, but stuck a smile on his face and did it anyway. The man got out of the car, shutting the door behind him to jay-walk across the street and pick up his little boy. When they walked hand-in-hand out of preschool, his father helped him into his car seat, buckling the child up to imply a safe journey home. Once everyone was strapped in and safe, they took off, driving through the town of Paris to return home. It wasn’t even five minutes into the ride when a quick jolt made Erik lurch forward, the straps of his seatbelt holding him in place. The sound of metal against metal echoed out through the air, screeching splitting the sound waves. Profanity was shouted, tires were spinning, the young child was screaming… Then it was all quiet. The car was still, voices were hushed, everything was peaceful. It wasn’t until the young boy squeaked out the small, yet very meaningful sentence, “Papa?” There was no answer. It was a chilling moment, one that the child would never forget. After this one moment, the moment of spinning terror, the moment of small blood splatter, the moment of no answers, Erik had nothing else to do but cry.
It took thirty minutes before the police showed up to the scene. Thirty long drawn-out minutes full of tears, shaking and confusion. It took thirty minutes before authorities showed up to calm down the frightened child, a thirty minute wait before he was able to get out of the bad feeling vehicle. The five year old was questioned about what he saw before the accident, and he responded with nothing. They asked what happened and he had said something hit them, they spun, and then it was all quiet. They asked if he had another parent and he said yes, that she was at work and he was supposed to be at home already. It was declared that the only good part of that day was he got to ride home in a police car.
When his mother finally arrived home, she rushed to the door when she saw the police cars. At first she believed that her husband had done something terrible to their son or to the home itself, but when she stepped through the home’s threshold, it was obvious that was not the case. Erik was sitting in the living room, crayons and a coloring book in front of him as two police officers stood with him. She looked around, then, one of the officers addressed her, saying that they should speak outside. He explained that her husband and son had gotten in a car crash, that her husband had not survived yet her son was completely fine. The woman was shaken up, confused on how one person in her life could be taken away so quickly, but she put on a tough outer shell for her son and pretended like everything was okay. Erik had not become very close with his father, so the loss of the man was not was devastating for him as it was for his mother, but every good memory he ever had was never lost.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××××


a continuation of the early life~

Four years later, the mother-son duo were trying to get themselves out into the world. They went on trips, walked around Paris, and Erik was even pulled out of school – being homeschooled of course – so they could spend more time together more often. Some would ask how a single mother homeschooling her son could even work, but she had that planned out fairly easily. Once her son was put to sleep, she locked up the house and took off for her night job. It didn’t pay much, but it was something to keep them supported. Once his mother was gone, the young child often couldn’t sleep. He rarely got any rest, which is why he trudged through the day with dark circles under his eyes and his small mouth whispered the words “Je suis si fatigue,”(I’m so tired). Night after night, he barely got to sleep, yet this was his own choice. He knew how drained he felt every day, but this didn’t keep him from staying up at night. The small boy always had an attraction to the darkness, the stage of no sunlight, the time that most children his age were terrified of, but he loved it. Erik loved the sound of the night creatures outside of his window, loved the sound of the chilling wind brushing tree limbs against the roof, loved the old creaking sounds the floorboards made whenever he tiptoed over them. There was just one thing that he favored over the rest, one thing that he couldn’t help but want to play with constantly. He had always felt the presence of his father since the day the man passed away, always felt like the man was watching him, so when he found a device that could possibly let him talk to his father, he jumped to the idea of playing around with it. The device was something that most people, even adults, wouldn’t dare to touch. A device some called demonic and evil, but he saw it as the only possible connection between him and his father.
An Ouija board was his choice of power. It was an old wooden board, multiple scratches from moving from city to city covering it’s back and sides. The words were unmarked, same as the numbers, leaving the main part of the board legible and ready for use. Erik was hesitant at first, but grabbed the planchette and started on the adventure ahead. Even though this was his first encounter with anything paranormal, the nine-year-old knew he had to be serious about it all. His small hands were placed on the heart-shaped piece of wood, taking a deep breath as he waited a few moments to think something to ask. “Êtes-vous là?”(Are you there?) he spoke slowly, asking if something was there. Erik knew that if he was trying to come in contact with his father, he should probably speak in French, since that was his father’s preferred language. In a matter of seconds, the planchette under his fingers was moving, slowly sliding over to the word ‘YES’. This was an eye-opener, something he wasn’t expecting to happen. Someone was there, was watching him do this and moving the small wooden piece under his fingertips to communicate. The boy nodded, “Est votre nom Jason Calamity? Êtes-vous mon père?”(Is your name Jason Calamity? Are you my father?). This took a minute or two to respond, considering he asked two questions at once, but yet again, the planchette moved away from ‘YES’, only to move right back. So there was the ghost, or rather sprit, of his father talking to him through this old board. Seemed pretty legitimate. The next words that came out of the child’s mouth were personal, something he never thought he’d be able to tell his father, yet here he was, speaking to the man he never fully got close to. “Tu me manques,” (I miss you) were the words he had whispered, and after he did this, he fully did not expect a response. He knew his father was not very attached to him, yet when the planchette moved to spell out “I-M-I-S-S-Y-O-U-T-O-O”, he was quite thrilled and confused at the same time. His father had replied in English, not French. There was nothing else to say, nothing to discuss. If his father was ‘haunting’ this home, then he’d know everything that him and his mother were doing together, know about all the adventures they had. There wasn’t anything else to say, so he decided to put the board up for the night. Before he could move off of the floor, the front door opened, the lights turning on. Erik whipped his head around, his eyes wide as he looked up at his mother. She shut the door quickly, running over to her son to stand next to him with worried eyes. “Did you use that?” she asked her son, trying to keep her voice calm. He nodded softly, scared that he did something wrong, but his mother was fairly nice about it. She exclaimed that the board wasn’t something he should be using, that it wasn’t a nice thing in her eyes. Even though the boy tried to say that he spoke to his deceased father, his mother wouldn’t take it for an answer. She picked up the board, walking over and sitting it down by the front door to take to the trash tomorrow morning. After that, she helped her son into bed, saying that it was way too late, that it was past his bedtime and he needed to get some rest. After that encounter with spirits, Erik seemed to be oddly attracted to the paranormal. He wanted to know more, wanted every ounce of education available on the communication with the afterlife. After that one incident, he had become known as the kid that could talk to the dead, the insane one that saw ghosts and everything in between. Erik had a love for the undead, the evil and the good.





[The Teenage Years: The Life and Times from the Being Itself]

『Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI 』

I was thirteen years old, four years after my first paranormal experience had happened. When I was nine, after my mother had gotten rid of the Ouija board, I never came in contact with my father again. The only device I had possession over was gone forever, so I decided that it was time to figure everything out that I could about spirits. I learned the devices used for connection with them, learned the tricks to get the answers to questions, learned every ounce of knowledge there was to know, and I still wanted more. I didn’t own any ‘ghost hunting’ devices, and it was pretty obvious that my mother wasn’t about to get them for me, so I decided to go out and buy them myself. Even if it meant trading something on the black market, I’d do it to get the gear.
There were twenty one things that I needed. Twenty one things that I had to hide from my mother once I received them. Twenty one things that would complete a collection of hunting gear I needed to make my mind settle. It was hard to keep the fact that I was going to an underground ‘shopping center’ on my free time, so I had to come up with a lie of where I would be at. It wasn’t a great lie, but it was what thirteen year old me came up with. I told my mother that I’d be going to antique shops, looking for cool items to place around my room and our home. Every time I bought something from the black market I’d have to swing by an antique shop, picking up a creepy looking doll or a paint-chipped piece of wood.
The first piece of gear I got was an Ed Box, something that detects magnetic, infrared and physical events taking place around the user. That was hard enough to find, and even harder to hide in my small bedroom. My mother had only seen it once, questioning where I got the device, but said nothing aloud to me. The days went on and I continued to trade, to buy the equipment I needed to have to communicate with the no longer living. An EM Pump was purchased, a dark light, a Video Ovilus, an Inductive Probe, an EMF Detector, motion detectors, a black light, no-contact thermometers, an infrared flashlight, an infrared camera, a full-spectrum DVR, E-Field Pods, 4-in-1 Paranormal Pods, a Mel Meter, a Mini DVR-01, a DAS-RT-EVP, a Spirit Box, a PX, and, of course, another Ouija Board. It took skill to hide every bit of equipment, and I take it as a huge accomplishment that my mother hadn’t had an idea about any bit of it.
Life went on and my paranormal obsession continued. I wasn’t able to go around the town at night experimenting with my new gear, so whenever my mother went to work, I started up on my own work. I gave her at least five minutes before dragging anything out, just in case she forgot something and had to come back. I knew that we had at least one spirit looming over our household, and I’d try to get in touch with this one spirit if it was the last thing I did. My father, the man who passed away eight years ago was who I wanted to be in contact with again. No matter what I did, no matter how many other spirits were located within my home, I had always wanted to speak with the man that took part in raising me. Night after night I would use every device I had to see if he was around, but no luck. I even took out my old pal the Ouija board to see if I could pick up anything, but the planchette didn’t move once. I was out of ideas, out of every ounce of hope in talking to my father, but I had other things to do. There were other spirits in the world, not just my deceased relatives. Besides, what was the point of buying and trading for all of the gear I had if I would have stopped after not being able to communicate with my father? My mom wasn’t home for at least six hours every night, so I knew I had my free time, but what was there to do?

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××××


a continuation of the teenage years~

As the years went on, my skills increased. No matter how old I was, I never stepped foot outside of our property, yet I did leave the home to test out equipment quite a few times. I was sixteen, the outside world was dark, the stars and moon the only thing illuminating the sky. I sat cross-legged in the driveway, a wooden board sitting in front of me. My face had no emotion, every ounce of energy drained from my body. It was late at night, way later than the time I usually did spirit ‘summoning’s’ at, but I still had the will to carry on. For the past few nights, a certain spirit had been creeping up onto my alert systems, leaving small voices and bits of ectoplasm around the yard. I haven’t fully spoken to this ghost, but I decided that tonight would be the night. My old pal the Ouija board had been wishing for me to drag it out, use it for the first time in forever to actually talk to this spirit trying to get my attention. My hands reached for the planchette, taking a deep breath before asking the simple question, “Are you there?”. Bright lights shined in my eyes, forcing me to squint. I raised my head up from looking at the board, the soft noise of a car pulling into our driveway making me freeze. Was my mother home already? No, she was four hours early… That never happened. The door to the automobile opened, a woman stepping out. It was my mother, and she didn’t look very happy. At first, I thought she was just going to tell me to get back into the house, that I shouldn’t be outside past midnight but she did much more than just that. My mother slammed the car door shut, the vehicle still running so the lights shined like the sun into my tired eyes. She stormed up to me, grabbing my arm upward so quickly that the planchette dropped from my fingertips. Her entire face was filled with rage, so I knew I did something wrong. She kept shouting things at me, saying how she was sick and tired of me sneaking around trying to talk to ghosts. She pulled me up to my feet, pointing towards the front door and screaming at me to get into the house. I backed away from her, stumbling towards the door as I tried to get away from my mother. My hand it the doorknob, but my eyes still caught the sight of my mother picking up the Ouija board and slamming it against the ground, a large crack splitting the wood to where the board was at a point of no return. I knew that I’d have to get a new board somehow, but that wasn’t all I was worried about. I knew that the spirit I tried to come in contact with wouldn’t be so happy with her actions.
The next morning, I was approached by my mother, her face plain like she barely got any sleep. Her eyes were full of worry, a sight that I normally didn’t get to see. I was leaning over my breakfast, my eyes following her around the kitchen as she made her way over to me. “You need to leave,” she whispered out to me. By now, she had my full attention. Leave? That couldn’t be good at all. If my obsession over the dead was what caused this, I’d do everything I could to apologize. I blinked, pleading her to tell me why I was being told to leave the household I grew up in. The look in my mother’s eyes did not change. They were hard like steel, cold and icy. Her mind didn’t seem to budge about me leaving, but she did say why I was unwanted. She told me that she was seeing someone, a new man to replace the absence of my father, and that this new man had a young daughter around the age of nine. She explained that this man’s daughter was completely innocent, full of imagination and uncorrupted from the world. I was told that I needed to leave because of the interests I had, that my spirit hunting habits were something she didn’t want around the young child. She said that she didn’t know how I achieved to find all the gear I owned, but she wanted it all gone. I tried to explain that I could go somewhere else to hunt, that I didn’t have to do it within this home, but nothing was changing her mind. My mother was stuck to kicking me out of where I grew up, that she cared more about this new man’s daughter than she did me. I was told I had only a few hours to pack and leave, that she’d give me money to support myself for a few weeks, but after that I was on my own. Every movement I made was out of frustration. I grabbed a bag, stuffing my hunting gear, clothes, a few personal objects, then I was off. My mother tried to stop me before I walked out of the door so she could hand me the money I was promised, but I was done with everything. She wanted to kick me out and then hand me money? No, I wouldn’t let that happen. The door slammed behind me, and for the first time, I was actually on my own.
At first, I had no idea what to do with my life. I was a sixteen year old, almost seventeen, out by himself trying to live my own life. I had no money, no experience with anything in the world and I was expected to make a living. Clueless about everything, I set off to crash on a friend’s couch for the first few days. I was welcomed, but given advice on where I should apply for a job. Within the next day, a small coffee shop named Petit Café had called me back, saying that they’d hire me if I was still interested. They didn’t pay very well, but it was enough money to where I could purchase my own flat for a month or two. Quickly enough, I had moved into the new flat, raking in a certain amount of money each week that gave me enough to pay for my living expenses as well as some extra cash flow for my own enjoyment. It was obvious I wasn’t happy, so whenever I saved up enough money to go out and treat myself to a drink, no one was worried whenever I passed out drunk at the bar. Some would call me an alcoholic, but it wasn’t that bad. Well, not as bad as I could’ve been. It wasn’t until one day that I realized how much I depended on the alcohol in my life.
I was seventeen now, my life slowly straightening out. A man knocked on my door, a woman beside him. I was confused at first, my mind wondering why these people were in front of me, small smiles on their faces. Then it hit me. The woman was my mother, than man her boyfriend with the daughter that practically made me move out of my home. I didn’t necessarily have to be nice to these people standing in front of me, so I wasn’t. I asked them why they were here and my mother said she wanted me to meet my new stepfather. Stepfather? She had married him within a few months? It was obvious that she liked this new family much more than her old one. The man introduced himself, saying that his name was Basile Favre and his daughter’s name was Annette. Like I cared… My face held a bored expression, one that said I truly did not care about my new family. My mother had stared at me, then spoke up, saying that I shouldn’t be so rude. A laugh escaped my lips as I replied to her, my voice full of the truth as I said that she was the one that forced me to leave her household, that I can do and say anything I’d like. My mother had gasped, not expecting me to say anything about why I had left. Turns out that she had lied to her current husband, saying that I had left due to drug abuse, that I could no longer live away from the place I was receiving my drugs. Nice going with the lies, I must say. Basile had looked at my mother, then to me, then said some not-so-nice words in French, but by this time I had waved my goodbyes, closing the door on my ‘parents’ and dead bolting it shut. After that incident, I had gone straight to my cabinets, pulling out bottle after bottle of liquor. I may have not been a drug addict, but I was about to be an alcoholic.
I woke up on the floor, the cold wood against my cheek sending shivers down my spine. My head hurt, a hangover pounding against the inside of my skull. It took a matter of minutes just for me to crawl over to the couch and curl into a ball. I had things to do, places to go, but I was physically incapable of doing so. I wasn’t in the best situation at the moment, but I didn’t know what else to do. I knew I’d be fired if I was late for work one more time, yet that didn’t encourage me to rise off of the couch. I was hung over, my head ripping apart from the inside out. I wouldn’t be going into work, wouldn’t be receiving another paycheck for a long time, but I had enough money to get away from this god awful place. I didn’t know where I’d go, I just knew I had to get away. When I was sobered up enough, I dragged myself to the airport, sitting around the building for a few hours, waiting for the speaker to say there was an open seat on a flight due to someone who has canceled. I felt like it’d never be called, that I’d be stuck in France forever, but then it happened. A voice range over the speaker, in French first and then in English. “Un siège de coach disponible pour un vol vers New York, en Amérique.” (Seat coach available for a flight to New York, America) I was ecstatic, ready for a new environment. Sure I’d miss the peacefulness of Paris, but I wasn’t worried about that at all. I was ready to start over, for a new life where I wouldn’t be judged by family members constantly. I set off, taking the first steps in the direction of the States.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××××××


a continuation of the teenage years~

Once I arrived in New York, it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t used to the city. Paris had been training for the hell this was. Business men and women hurried around, shoving people out of their ways while single mothers tried to hush their screaming children. There were people like me, people who were looking for a better life. There were ones who seemed to have little hope in life, ones that lived on the streets but still clung to their life. There were some who believed they had no life, that they were alone when in reality they were very much loved. It was a huge change from France. So many different cultures were jumbled up around one another, a sight that I had to take more than a few moments of my time just to take it all in. I, a seventeen year old French boy, confused and lost on the streets of a foreign country. A great experience, yet one that was much more terrifying than exciting. I had money left over from when I had a job back home, but they used a different currency here in America, leaving me to be in search of a bank for an exchange. Once I got the money situation sorted out, I was still left to figure out how much is ‘expensive’ within this country. You see, 15€ is an outrageous price for a hotel breakfast, or any breakfast for that matter, and when I ordered a meal and it came out as $9.95, I had no idea if that was good or bad. The currency took a while getting used to, which often lead to me handing the clerk a twenty dollar bill and praying it was enough to cover everything. Usually it was, but whenever I got in a jam I’d just speak in French, forcing the ones around to believe I spoke no amount of English. It was a little twisted, but it was what I had to do to get through this confusing country.
The years went on and I got a hang of the money, even understanding it enough to be able to rent out a flat (which I learned they’re called apartments?). It took me a while to get back into the swing of my old ways, but everything smoothed out once I realized how important the spirits were to me. Whenever I stayed away from the dead for a long time, my skin started to crawl. Everything seemed different, like the world was going slow enough to bring the dead back. When I forgot about the past, the past tried to drag me back to it. I couldn’t stay away, so I didn’t. My last Ouija board was broken by my mother out of rage, a crack splitting it down the center, unfit for use. I didn’t necessarily need one, I just felt that I talked to the no longer living better with one than any other device. I purchased one out of my own pocket, bringing it home near the later end of the night to sit in the middle of the floor in my living room, taking a deep breath as I tried to come in contact with the spirits of the ones I easily had forgotten. The attempt went successfully, as well as all the other attempts after that. The word got around the small building I was located in that I talked to ghosts, that I talked to them regularly. People came to me, saying that they’d pay me if I came to their homes to see if their house was haunted. I agreed, yet most of what I was asked to do was for the other people’s pure amusement. They wanted to see ‘the crazy French boy’ talk to ‘things that weren’t real’. Occasionally I received requests to come in and see if their spirit was demonic, which was an easy thing to check, and saved probably a lot of people from becoming terrified.





[Early Adulthood: From the Creator's Mind and Hands]

『Who would be jealous then of such a one?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.
-The Comedy of Errors, Act IV, Scene II 』


As the years went on, it became easier for me to come in contact with the spirits of those no longer with us. When I officially became an adult, age 18, everything seemed to stay the same. Nothing changed much, life went on. Same for when I hit 19. Nothing seemed to be drastically different. I was the same me. The spirits were the same them. Everything was the same. The only difference in my life was when I hit the age of twenty, how old I am now. Something happened that I’m still not quite sure about. It was a late night, one that even I was exhausted from, so I knew there would be no questionings of ghosts. It must’ve been a bad idea to not talk to them, for something was pretty angry I didn’t talk to them. Doors were being slammed whenever I walked past them, cabinets being swung open, the lights flickered. Nothing ever physically touched me, just events around me that seriously freaked me out down to the core.
Since leaving France, I never had wanted to go back. The beautiful streets of Paris was something to miss, that was for sure, but I don’t ever want to return due to my family I left behind. My mother, stepfather and stepsister weren’t people I were fond of, so why return to see their faces? I, Erik Calamity, have yet to completely live up to my last name. Calamity. Destruction. Distress. Disaster. A lot had happened to me since I was nine. Even with how young I was when all of this started, I would have never pictured myself earning small amounts of money for the one thing I love the most. I never would have thought I’d be in America talking to spirits almost daily. I never would’ve thought some people would look at me differently because I talk to the dead. I wouldn’t have thought I’d make it this far, but here I am. I’m living, breathing proof that the worst things in life can become something you’re okay with. I’m not perfect, nobody is, but I am happy with my way of life. The only thing that would make it better is if someone came into my life and completely took my breath away. Having a girl by my side wouldn’t be the worst thing in life, now could it?



[Summary of the Past: From the Author's Re-reading and Translations]

『For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius;
My lord desires you presently: my news
I might have told hereafter.
-Antony and Cleopatra, Act III, Scene V 』

Erik’s father died when he was quite young, leaving the boy and his mother to fend for themselves. When Erik was nine when he had his first encounter with spirits, an obsession that he didn’t know would spark into something much greater. The years went on and his was still trying to talk to ghosts. When he was sixteen, his mother kicked him out of their home. Not for a very good reason, either. She was dating a man with a young child, one that she did not want to be around his ‘demonic summoning’s’. So, Erik left, only months after leaving for America. It took a while for him to understand everything going on, but he eventually got it. Now, he lives a normal life of a foreign in a slightly-odd country. Things are different now than from in France, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××××××



『That Katharina and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
-The Taming of the Shrew, Act III, Scene II 』

Relationships
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The Immediate Family
→ Jason Calamity ~ Father
→ Jane Proulx-Favre ~ Mother
→ Basile Favre ~ Stepfather
→ Annette Favre ~ Stepsister, 13 (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
→ Ethan Calamity ~ Grandfather
→ Gabrielle Calamity ~ Grandmother
→ Claudia Fabre-Calamity ~ Great Grandmother
→ Albert Calamity ~ Great Grandfather

The Close Friends
→ Maybe a few from when he was very young, but none right now

The Lovers
→ No time for this… Besides, not many girls look his way
The Enemies
→ No one, really… Except for maybe his mother

The Deceased
→ Jason Calamity ~ Father
→ Ethan Calamity ~ Grandfather
→ Gabrielle Calamity ~ Grandmother
→ Claudia Fabre-Calamity ~ Great Grandmother
→ Albert Calamity ~ Great Grandfather

Miscellaneous
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Questions you may have:
→ Why do you have a love for the haunting dead?
Why do children have a love for sweets? It’s a passion I have, something I can’t answer with ease.

→ Would you ever return to France if you family did not live there?
I might. It all depends on how I feel at that moment, what’s going on around me and if I have a partner.

→ Thoughts on starting a family?
Families are great. I’d love to have a kid or two, even a wife, but my life doesn’t look like it’s heading that direction any time soon.

Favorite color:
→ Pistachio Green

Favorite genre of music:
→ Pop Punk/Post Hardcore

Personal Playlist
►It’s Over When It’s Over by Falling In Reverse◄
►Set The World On Fire by Black Veil Brides◄
►Death Valley by Fall Out Boy◄
►The Westerner by Falling In Reverse◄
►Nicotine by Panic! At The Disco◄

I thought of angels choking on their halos, get them drunk on rose water.
See how dirty I can get them, pulling out their fragile teeth, and clip their tiny wings.

『 The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
-All’s Well That Ends Well, Act V, Scene III 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Shakespeare.♪

Part ×





『 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II 』



Hazellyn | Paris | Calloway
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→ From the modern-English origin and means “Light Brown Color”
→ The meaning of this name is “Son of Priam” and is from Greek origin
→ Irish from Latin origin and means “Pebbly Place”

Hazel ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♡ ♡



Overall Gender:
♀ Female
Derived from the: XX Chromosome
Physical Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation:
Heterosexual ♂
Relationship Status: Single



Apparent Age: 18
Real Age: 16

Place of Birth: Abnegation

Faction Transfer: Erudite

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Date of Birth: April 29
Chinese Zodiac Sign: Tiger
Zodiac Sign: Taurus
Birth Stone: Diamond
Birth Flower: Daisy

Time of Birth: 4:32 PM





『 To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
-A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Act II, Scene I 』



Appearance:
Face Claim: Kristen Bell
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(view spoiler)[





(hide spoiler)]

Details
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Hair: A sandy blonde color with a natural curl that falls just below her shoulders
Eyes: Heterochromia Iridum Her right eye is blue, whereas her left is green (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
Height: 5’3
Weight: 125 LBS

Distinguishing Marks
→ A thin display of freckles are scattered across her shoulders and shoulder blades
→ Her jawline is on the large size compared to the rest of her body, forcing the her cheeks to look full
→ Small cuts are located on her fingers due to paper



Style
Hazellyn is very limited in the clothing she can wear, but often goes with black slacks and a loose, grey shirt. Occasionally she’ll pair up the outfit with a jacket, all depending on the weather and what she’s feeling like on that day.

Favorite Outfit:

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『 Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:
And more such days as these to us befall!
-Henry VI Part 2, Act V, Scene III 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××

Personality
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『 Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, who to advance and who
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em;
-The Tempest, Act I, Scene I』

Crucial Aspects
Independent, willing to do anything for her younger brother, sees no reason to mold into something you’re not. Hazellyn is definitely her own person and she isn’t about to let anyone else change that. This girl is someone you can easily pass by, her grey Abnegation clothing forcing her to blend in with the crowd. Once you get a look at her though, she’ll have you captivated with every move she makes. Not a normal being, that’s for sure, but you can’t quite put your finger on the exact point of why she’s not the same as the others. Ordinary enough to fit in but insane enough to stand out.

Around Family
Slightly secretive, but still all the same. This girl has learned how to keep what she loves to do on the down-low in front of her family, but she still doesn’t keep it completely hidden. Her younger brother is and always has been the highlight of their parent’s lives, so she tries not to intrude on anything that involves him. Hazellyn loves her family with all her heart, but is not so attached to where she would never leave them to go somewhere new. There are always exceptions to one thing in life, and her family just so happens to be her’s.



Phobias
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♦ Poinephobia- Fear of punishment
♦ Claustrophobia- Fear of confined spaces
♦ Acrophobia- Fear of heights
♦ Dementophobia- Fear of insanity
♦ Muriphobia- Fear of mice

Likes
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✓ Train Tracks
✓ Individuality
✓ Night Time
✓ Reading
✓ Her Family
✓Learning New Things
✓ Helping The Injured
✓Singing
✓ Art



Dislikes
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✗ The Dauntless
✗ People Having High Expectations For Her
✗ Heights
✗ Mice
✗ Failure
✗Harsh Punishment
✗Enclosed Places
✗ Cold Weather
✗ Fancy Clothing





Strengths
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• Achiever
• Deliberative
• Intelligent
• Responsibility
• Individualization

Weaknesses
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• Heights
• Self Confidence
• Enclosed Places

『''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him;
-As You Like It, Act II, Scene I 』

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××



『Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
-Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV 』



History
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[The Early Days: A Summary of the Child]

『 Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
-Othello, Act III, Scene I 』

Hazellyn Pairs Calloway was the first born child of the Calloway family, her parents ecstatic for her arrival. They never once worried about how they’d be able to purchase food for themselves, only thought about their little girl. There was an advantage being born into Abnegation, having your parents think about everything but themselves. The little girl practically got the best younger life she could imagine, being given what she needed to become a successful young lady. Of course, she wasn’t given exactly everything she wanted due to the fact Abnegation weren’t supposed to think of themselves, but she did get a few wanted items. Her family did not celebrate her birth, saying that if someone is given gifts and presents on a certain day every year, it makes that person think about themselves instead of the others around them. Being the only child, Hazel was forced to spend time with her young parents and be contained in her small home. Her bedroom was no bigger than any other room in the house, the living room big enough to fit a small couch and a rocking chair, the kitchen connected to the dining room so it counted as one room all together, the bathroom was half the size of the rest of the rooms, holding only a toilet and a shower. To wash your hands, you would have to use the sink located outside of the bathroom, hanging on the wall next to the door. Upstairs were the bedrooms, on the left was her parent’s and on the right was hers. But what was the room next to her parent’s room? What was that room for? It was a spare room, one that held an empty atmosphere with no furniture or any signs of life. Her mother explains it as the room where guests can stay, but why would a guest sleep somewhere without a bed? It confused the young child, but she decided to no longer question why her home was the way it was.
Hazel’s parents raised her with bright eyes, dressing her in the normal Abnegation colors but answering any question the child had. Anytime the girl didn’t understand what something was, she would point at it, look up at her mother or father and simply ask “What’s that?”. Her father would simply answer her question, saying that the object was a rock, a bird, an elderly man. Her mother however read her books of the unknown, giving her knowledge about animals and people and shapes and colors. The girl knew everything she would need to begin school, and her father could not understand why. He did not know that his wife was secretly reading to their daughter, that instead of answering the young girl’s questions, the woman quizzed the girl. Whenever her daughter would ask what something was, she would shrug and say “I’m not sure, what do you think it is?” Sometimes Hazel would reply with the correct answer, but if she replied wrong, her mother would tell her the right answer. Hazellyn’s father did not know that his wife was whispering stories to their daughter, did not know that his wife was preparing her mind for the knowledge that was needed to continue on with her life. He did not know that his daughter was being taught these things, he just believed that she as genuinely smart. Did he agree? Of course not. A young girl with that much amount of influence would surly transfer over to Erudite when the time came, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

This young girl was only three years old when another member of the Calloway family was brought into play. A small boy that held the name Flynn was born, his deep blue eyes making her own heart melt into liquid. The boy was her younger brother, a little sibling that didn’t get on her nerves, but still made her worry. How would the rest of the world look at him? Would they think of him as nothing more than an Abnegation Stiff? Would they think of him like how they think of her? Hazel knew that she would have to protect the young child, but not until Flynn would understand what she was doing. When they were both the age that they could attend school, she would never let the boy out of her sight. They even attended different classes, but she would occasionally ask her teacher to leave to go to the restroom, and while on her way back, she would check up with him in his classes. Protective, looking out for him instead of herself. It was one sliver of Abnegation showing through, and it was one trait that she didn’t mind showing. Her brother was her brother, and it was her job to keep him safe.

As the years went on, it was obvious that the brother-sister duo weren’t the same. Hazellyn kept book stacked upon book hidden away from her parent’s eyes, knowing that if her father ever found out about the collection, he would burn it in a heartbeat. Her father was a different man. He didn’t care much about the rules of the Faction they lived in, but still tried to make everything fit together. He didn’t wish to lose his eldest daughter, his only daughter, and would do anything to smush her down into the Abnegation surroundings. He could see what she really was, that the blonde whirl wind wasn’t like the rest of their family, that she was Erudite. Even at the simple age of eleven he could already tell what the girl would transfer to in five years. Her younger brother though? Eight year old Flynn was the perfect description of Abnegation. If you looked up the Faction in a dictionary, you’d see a picture of the short dirty-blonde, blue eyed monkey that she called her younger brother. He never thought about himself first, always putting the ones younger and older than him in front of his own actions. Flynn always helped the hurt, always helped someone back on their feet, gave money and food to the Factionless. He was their parent’s favorite child, that was easy to see. Their mother’s blue eyes would always light up with joy when she saw him perform a kind deed, the green iris’ of their father’s eyes sparking off with energy when he looked at the boy. What about when they saw Hazel? When they saw her, their expressions stayed the same, never changing once. The only time she ever saw her father open up to reveal something other than blankness was when he was angered about his daughter’s actions. Hazellyn never grew up liking her Faction, never liked wearing the plain grey color or the soft grey buildings that surrounded them. She wanted something else, something new and different into the world. Even at her young age she wanted excitement, wanted to expand her knowledge and learn anything and everything she could about the world and everything that surrounds her.

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ××××




[The Teenage Years: The Life and Times]

『Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI 』

Age fourteen. Young, wild, and not so free. Hazellyn’s parents would not let her leave the household unless it was for school purposes or she was volunteering to help the Factionless. The homeless, Factionless people weren’t scary or terrifying, but they weren’t fun to hang around either. Flynn however always spent his free time down by the train tracks with them, talking about everything happening within the other Factions and how life will always continue to get better. He would give them food to last them a few days, give them spare change and even extra clothes, but she never saw an undying love to spend her free time out and about. Instead, the girl stayed home, locking herself away in her room to study about anything and everything. She would learn about the world long ago, learn about what’s happening in the world today, read about what authors believed the earth would look like many years ago. Her favorite non-fiction item to learn about was first aid, the different ways to help someone cope with a minor burn or how to retrieve a bullet from inside of someone’s body interested her to no extent. That was the Abnegation showing through, telling her to help someone before she helps herself. There was a battle going on inside of her, pulling her one direction towards Erudite and the other towards her home Faction. She was only fourteen… Why was she already thinking about transferring?
Hazel Calloway wasn’t necessarily the most vocal student among her classmates, but she did keep up with her grades and everything intellectual. She knew the answers to the questions she was asked, even knew the correct responses to the questions her peers got wrong. She was a bright girl, much smarter than some people in her grade, yet she wasn’t smart enough to figure out a way how to show affection. The advantages of living in Abnegation, huh? The only love ever shown at her home was the love her parents showed for Flynn, and even that wasn’t very obvious. Kisses weren’t shared, hand holding was never shown in open spaces, and she never got to experience what it was like to attract and man or even a young boy. Love wasn’t a major issue for her, but she did wish that someone would take notice of her. For the most part, the only contact that she ever had was when the Erudite kids shoved her shoulder in the hallway, trying to get her to move. Little did they know that she would soon be joining them. No matter what happened, she knew that the Faction of the intelligent was the place she would choose to transfer to. Even if her parents were disappointed, even if everyone else in that Faction hated her because she was from Abnegation, even if Flynn no longer looked up to her, she would still go. It would give her a start to a new life, and that’s exactly what she wished for.

Years passed and it became more and more obvious how the Erudite was affecting young Hazellyn. The book stacked up, piling ontop of one another to create a mound of literature that no one dared to touch. Her father had accepted the fact that his daughter would be transferring when the time came, and had no other words of encouragement to say to the darling girl. Her mother saw that the transfer would occur when her daughter was much younger, even before her second child was born, and had already began to encourage the switch. It wasn’t like she didn’t love her daughter, she just wished the best to happen for her little girl. Unlike her father, the woman knew about the pile of books in Hazel’s room and chose not to share the little secret. By the time she transferred, the book could be sold to another Faction, and the money could be given to the Factionless. Perhaps the leaving of the eldest Calloway daughter was a good thing. It certainly was grateful towards the people that lived on the streets. Flynn has yet to find out about the Faction transferring his older sister will go through.
As the day approaches closer and closer, the girl can’t help but anticipate the people she will meet and the activities that will take place. No matter how much Erudite and Abnegation do not like each other, the choice will be better for her. No matter what response she receives with the Aptitude test, Erudite will be chosen. Who cares if Abnegation is her best hope for survival? She would rather be Factionless than stay in her birth-Faction. Hazel much get away from the grey nothingness, escape to a better place full of people like her, full of actual beings that think and believe in the same exact way she does. The small, short-spoken girl isn’t and never was afraid of what lies ahead. Brighter days are sure to come. The darkest have already passed in Abnegation, so what terrible news could ever lie ahead of her?

♪This template and character has been compiled by the latest shots of imagination brought to you so kindly by Ariel [ MMM ]. M a n i a c I n c . ©

♪Disclaimer: (view spoiler)[This template has been upgraded to its newest potential, and it took a lot of time, so please don't steal the credit given at the beginning of these posts, any aspect of the character, and/or the template itself unless I give you explicit permission. If I do happen to give you permission, please keep this credit at the top of each post. Keep in mind, this template will take up 4+ posts, guaranteed, so please try to be as detailed as you can in the following sections, or else 4 short posts will look sort of weird. Do not redistribute. Inspiration for this template came from the following beautiful people: Sea, Paro, and Leena. Love you guys. (hide spoiler)]♪

♪Warning: To read through the entire character, not just skip over it (this took time and frankly that's rude), I highly recommend you keep the following items next to you: at least one box of tissues, a package of assorted chocolates, and that you sit in a place where your squeals of either 'nooooo' or 'yeaaaahhhh' or 'awwwwww' will not be heard so that passerbys will not look at you in an odd fashion. This beautifully paraphrased part 3 of credit has been brought to you by Ella. ♪

♪This template is hereby dubbed ‘The Tragic Comedy’ in honor of William Whakespeare. ♪

Part ×××××

”There’s a difference between interest and commitment.”


『That Katharina and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
-The Taming of the Shrew, Act III, Scene II 』

Relationships
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

The Immediate Family
→ Peter Calloway – father
→ Kathrine Calloway – mother
→ Flynn Coleman Calloway – brother, 13 (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

The Close Friends
→ She has acquaintances at school, but none that she would consider friends

The Lovers
→ You can thank the Abnegation for this being a blank slot

The Enemies
→ None that can be named

Miscellaneous
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Questions you may have:
→ So your parents are fine about you transferring Factions?
Oh, probably not. But why should they care? It’s my life, and they chose to support me through it

→ Will you miss your younger brother once you leave Abnegation?
Flynn and I grew up together, and as annoying as he is, I’ll always miss him.

→ What’s a few things you’ll miss about Abnegation?
The majority of that list is my family. I guess another thing is how you can see the train tracks from my bedroom window. Can you see the tracks in other Factions? Oh well… Those are the things I’ll miss.

Personal Playlist
► Waiting For Superman by Daughtry◄
► Empire by Bring Me The Horizon◄
► Somewhere In Neverland by All Time Low ◄
► Fallout by Marianas Trench ◄
► Fire, Fire by Flyleaf ◄

『 The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
-All’s Well That Ends Well, Act V, Scene III 』

( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！

[Part 1]

(view spoiler)[ [ (☆^O^★)ξThis template, ★ ～☆Take me back☆~ ★, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Sea the Fiend, Carlene and Ella.ξ(☆^O^★) (hide spoiler)] (hide spoiler)]

★No, you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me
To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life★


(￣▽￣)ノ☆バンバン！! Introducing ！ンバン☆ノ(￣▽￣)

ღ"You can dream about it or go out and make it happen."ღ




▌▏ │ ▏ First▏ │ ▌ Beaufort
:::Meaning::: in Swedish, this name means “Commander”
☰--Nickname--☰ Bo
▌▏ │ ▏ Last▏ │ ▌ Reynolds

▌▏ │ ▏ DOB▏ │ ▌ October 17
▌▏ │ ▏ LOB▏ │ ▌ Baltimore, Maryland, USA
▌▏ │ ▏ Age▏ │ ▌ 18
▌▏ │ ▏ Gender▏ │ ▌ Male
▌▏ │ ▏ Sexuality▏ │ ▌ Very much closeted homosexual
▌▏ │ ▏ Year▏ │ ▌ 12, senior

ღ"Giving up simply isn’t an option."ღ



★The keys to life are running and reading. When you're running, there's a little person that talks to you and says, "Oh I'm tired. My lung's about to pop. I'm so hurt. There's no way I can possibly continue." You want to quit. If you learn how to defeat that person when you're running. You will how to not quit when things get hard in your life. For reading: there have been gazillions of people that have lived before all of us. There's no new problem you could have--with your parents, with school, with a bully. There's no new problem that someone hasn't already had and written about it in a book★

*:--☆--:*:--☆:*:--☆--:* Appearance *:--☆--:*:--☆:*:--☆--:*:

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Picture(s)/Gif(s) ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁



┇--Hair Color --┇ browth
┇--Hair Style--┇ Long and shaggy, often coated in hair gel to give it a “poof”. If no product is added, then it hangs loosely across his forehead
┇--Eye Color--┇ Hazel
┇--Height--┇ 6’0”
┇--Build--┇ Athletic
┇--Skin tone--┇ Pale
┇--Style--┇ Often wears tank-tops and jeans, a look that is frequently found in male teenagers. However, he can also be found wearing athletic apparel, whether this be a sports uniform or a pro-jersey.

ღ"Keep your bad vibes away from me."ღ



Love comes and goes so much while you're in your teenage years

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Personality ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁

☆--Like(s)--☆
⇉ Football
⇉ Basketball
⇉ Boys GIRLS
⇉ 80’s movies
⇉ Shopping it’s a guilty pleasure
⇉ Cars
⇉ Video Games


☆--Dislike(s)--☆
⌦ Math
⌦ Bad Haircuts
⌦ Cross Country
⌦ Reality TV
⌦ Sweets
⌦ Cold Weather
⌦ Lagging



☆--Strengths--☆
⇉ Agility
⇉ Humorous
⇉ Flexible

☆--Weaknesses--☆
⌦ Pushy
⌦ Submissive
⌦ Secretive

☆--Phobia(s)--☆
⌦ Elurophobia- Fear of cats
⌦ Batophobia- Fear of heights
⌦ Nyctophobia- Fear of the dark

☆--State of Mind--☆
Sane, although he does drive himself to the brink of insanity at points.

ღ"If you call me gay one more time, I’ll shove my manliness down your throat."ღ

( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！

[Part 2]

(view spoiler)[ [ (☆^O^★)ξ(IMPROVED)This template, ★ ～☆A Students Stars☆~ ★, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Sea the Fiend, Carlene and Ella.ξ(☆^O^★) (hide spoiler)] (hide spoiler)]

History



▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Early Childhood ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
Beaufort Reynolds is what you would call the result of a high school relationship gone wrong. His parents were merely seventeen years old when they found out that his mother was pregnant, and that his father would have barely any time to spare. They were young, unsure what to do and who to turn towards. As a result, the new parents quickly decided that once the child was born, they would dismiss of him to an adoption agency and live their own lives as if nothing had happened. It seemed as if it would be a swift and easy process; give birth, give up, go home… but they were oh so wrong.
Six hours. It was six hours of trying to deliver a child that the high school prep wouldn’t even keep. It was ironic, honestly, but the doctors and nurses used every ounce of their energy to keep the girl calm. Her boyfriend was right there next to her, holding her hand in fear that he would have to step up and become responsible for his actions. He was unsure if his girlfriend would change her mind, if she would end up wishing to keep the baby, yet he never voiced his thoughts. Once the child was born, the new mother instantly turned her head to the side, refusing to take any part in the new creation’s life. It wasn’t hers, it never would be, and nothing could change her mind. The nurses took the baby boy out of the room to clean him up and swaddle him in the blanket. It was very obvious that the boy’s mother did not want to see him, but the father, however, took a different road. He left the side of his girlfriend to meet the nurses in the hallway, catching them before they disappeared forever with his son. The nurses turned around, a thin smile on her face as she looked up at the father. It was a simple question that she asked, although he wasn’t sure how to answer.
”Would you like to hold him?”
The father nodded slowly, extending his arms to let the child in close to his chest. The boy squirmed slightly, opening his eyes to reveal golden orbs when the light hit them– just like his mother’s. The father breathed out a laugh, carefully cradling the boy as thoughts about the future swam through his mind. They wouldn’t be practicing sports out the in front yard together, they wouldn’t sit down and talk about how the Broncos played terrible the night before…. This was the last time he would ever see his son, would ever talk to him or hold him or do anything with him. This was it. Time was up. The nurse looked up at him, trying to find words to say. It didn’t take long before she squeaked out, ”Is there a name you have in mind?”. The father didn’t even take that into consideration. Did he want to give this kid a name? He shook his head quickly, shifting so he could hand his child back to the nurse.
”No,” he said in a soft voice, ”but don’t let his new parents call him something stupid.”

It was only a handful of days before a couple in their early thirties saw the baby’s face and knew that they couldn’t pass up the offer. The darling boy had so much potential, they could see it in his eyes, and when he first looked up at them and smiled, they knew that he was meant to be their son. The adoption agency was very gracious through the process of making the infant part of the Reynolds family. The agency knew that these adoptive parents wished to raise the boy because they could not have one of their own flesh and blood. A medical issue, if you must. It was nearly impossible that the couple would ever have their own, so they went to look for a child, and child did they find. Over the course of a week, the papers were filed and the newborn baby boy could be brought home to be nourished and loved behind the walls of his new family’s home. It was nearly unheard of for an adoption process to go through so quickly, but they were one of the lucky cases. The couple named their son Beaufort, calling him Bo for short.
Bo grew up in Baltimore, his father pushing him into flag football and tee-ball from the moment he could walk. His mother was the coach of a local girls’ volleyball team, spending her hours up at a high school. His family was very sports-oriented, and he definitely wasn’t afraid of being roughed up. Was he a trouble maker? No, not at all, but he wasn’t afraid of standing up for himself, his family, and his friends. Even at such a young age, he knew when someone was being treated wrongly. Judgment came across easy for him, and he knew that he couldn’t just be a bystander when something was occurring.
There was a group of boys, a small group made up of three kids including Bo. These boys were the few children he connected with on his tee-ball team. His parents were ecstatic that he was finding friends quickly, and weren’t alarmed one bit when play dates were scheduled. At age four, the three boys would go into the backyard and practice sports for hours, making jokes and help each other out in skills that were needed. They knew what they needed to win, and their ages weren’t going to stop them from eventually becoming something great. Bo would often stand by and watch the other boys play, keeping himself from harm’s way until it was absolutely necessary. Being bruised and battered wasn’t his favorite, which was why he kept away from sports such as football, basketball, and the like. Soccer and baseball was his main priority as a young boy, and even though his adoptive parents didn’t understand why, they supported him and pushed him to strive for winning.

When Bo was seven, he realized why he never wished to be thrown around in athletic sports. His two best friends, Michael and Danny, were always practicing tackles and punches, trying to out-do the other in strength and agility. It just wasn’t his thing. What was the point of potentially harming yourself and others if all you were doing was throwing a ball? It didn’t seem logical, none of it did, but some way, somehow, he was talked into trying out for the local football team. His father was proud, his mother ecstatic. FINALLY! Their darling baby boy would do something normal. After all, weren’t boys made to do things like football? Wasn’t that in their nature? Bo wasn’t sure of himself, and definitely wasn’t aware of what he was getting himself into, but football was in front of him, and there wasn’t really a way he could back down.
He wasn’t very old, at the peak of turning eight when he tried out for football. It was a children’s league, but still very aggressive. The first day, all they did was drills. It was as if they were weaning of the weak, trying to scare the boys away with physical effort, but it didn’t work on him. It wasn’t running that terrified young Beaufort, but rather the game itself. His father would tell him that he could see the boy’s legs trembling while standing on the field, and Bo knew that wasn’t something to be proud of. You see, he never was driven by self-effort, but instead by his parents. He wanted to do his best for them, to see their eyes light up whenever he beat his record. It wasn’t for himself, it never had been. From the moment his father smiled when he caught a baseball to when he made his first touchdown, Bo knew that he wasn’t doing sports for himself. Family matters, right? After all, they were everything he had.
Sports were his life. Athletics, working out, running… he loved every single aspect. Adrenaline only held him back. Bo needed more, needed some way to release the tension when he couldn’t go out and run. It seemed odd, didn’t it? That he would need to find another outlet…. The boy was nine, nearly ten, and the side of him that once knew good judgment was starting to disappear. Michael and Danny weren’t only his friends during sporting events, but they went to the same school as well. Some would call them a group full of hate, the three kids that never let anyone breathe, but what were they really? Michael was the biggest out of all of them, almost 5’7” and only in fourth grade, he had a boxy build as well, towering over the weaker kids. Anyone should’ve been scared to death of the kid, but Bo and Danny – whom was just as frail and fragile as Bo himself – found a shimmer of hope in Michael’s eyes. They wouldn’t let anyone else tell them what to do, even if that meant they had to use their own force. Bullies? Perhaps, but you’d never guess who was the lead of the pack.
Bo Reynolds. The once shy kid whom refused to touch anyone at any given moment, was now the ring leader of this group. He called the shots. He told Michael and Danny what to do. If he didn’t like someone, nobody liked them. It was all up to him, and that meant the world to the boy. Even in sports, if he wanted a position that somebody else had, they would graciously step down and let him receive it. This had its advantages, but then again, it had some disadvantages that weren’t healthy at all. More than once would the mother and father of this young boy be called into the principal’s office for a meeting to discuss their son’s behavior. How was it okay for a ten year old boy to call the shots on who got to eat lunch where? When was it ever alright for a ten year old boy to direct someone else to pull down a fellow student’s skirt? Who gave a ten year old boy the right to physically hit another student in the face? These questions were passed around more than once, and they were unable to be solved. Bo’s parents desperately tried to punish him for his happenings, grounding him from video games, TV, and even from after-school sporting practices. None of which worked, however. Beaufort was a trouble maker, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how that occurred, and he wasn’t exactly doing anything to change that.

( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！

[Part 3]

(view spoiler)[ [ (☆^O^★)ξ(IMPROVED)This template, ★ ～☆A Students Stars☆~ ★, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Sea the Fiend, Carlene and Ella.ξ(☆^O^★) (hide spoiler)] (hide spoiler)]



▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Adolescence/Young Adult ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
Age twelve. Yes, we skipped a few years, but the same thing happened over and over again. Bo was still the leader of his small group, even in seventh grade, and nobody tried to stop him. It was finally when sports where becoming a large deal. He was almost in high school, almost to where all of this counted, and all he had to do was make sure that nobody was better than him. This was the year that Bo lost himself, however. This was when everything seemed to click, the year that things began to make sense but then again, his whole world fell apart. He could pinpoint the exact moment that it all went wrong, and then the exact moment where everything went right.
His parents. They told him something that they should’ve told him a very long time ago. He was adopted, gave up by his birth parents from the moment he was born. They said that the hospital told them his parents were young, not even out of high school, and couldn’t raise a child by themselves. A part of him knew that they were telling him this to comfort him, but he knew that everything was shattered. His life was in pieces before him, fragments of memories and questions spread out on a thin line. Who was he really? Did he resemble his parents? Did he look like his mother, or his father? Was sports something his dad was into? What about football? He wanted to ask his adoptive parents all of these things, but he knew they wouldn’t have an answer. Who was he? Why was he even here? None of this made sense. Why have a child if you can’t support it? Why give up your baby to a total stranger? Why not try to come in contact with your child after they’re grown? Bo was frustrated, angry, and full of hate and desire and more hate. The whole world was against him and he wasn’t even sure why. His adoptive parents knew that the news would hit him hard, and weren’t surprised when he stormed out the front door. He just needed some air, that’s all that he told himself, but that’s when the worst of it happened. That was when he realized something about himself that even he wasn’t sure he wanted to be true.
A girl. One with long, blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was the first person he ran into while trying to cool down. Actually, it was more as if she was the one that came to him. Bo was sitting down on the street curb, his back hunched over while he stared aimlessly at the asphalt. She came up behind him, setting a hand softly on his shoulder while she bent down to whisper in his ear.
”You okay?” She asked, sitting down next to him.
Bo looked up, his face pale and fear-stricken. How was he ever going to live with himself? There wasn’t any way that he was going to get out alive. He’d been away for hours, walking the streets of Baltimore alone. Michael and Danny would kill him just because he’s been wanting to scream and cry instead of coming over to their house to play video games and hash it out. Hell, he was going to be violently mad at himself because this girl before him was looking at him through the most beautiful eyes, but he couldn’t keep his mind straight. Those eyes, he’s seen that color before… but where? They were gorgeous, stunning, and the only thing he absolutely found attractive about the girl. He had seen them before, seen that shade of green in the past, and it was driving him mad because the name of whom also held that color of eyes was at the tip of his tongue.
Danny. Danny White.
What? No. It couldn’t have been Danny. His eyes were green, yes, but they didn’t capture him in a heated moment like the girl’s before him. Well, no, that could be debated. Bo wanted to slam his head against a wall. He did not just think twice about liking his best friend. They were guys, bros, and definitely weren’t gay. God, no. He should just beat himself up over that last comment. But… now that he started thinking about it, it wasn’t exactly untrue. Danny was pretty cute – all the girls loved him – and they did have a lot of common interests. It didn’t seem right to even think that he could have a crush on his best friend, but it looked as if that was the way his mind was heading. And besides, the girl standing next to him should have been described as beautiful, should’ve made him go insane just by her touching his shoulder, but there was no amount of connection toward her. Maybe he was gay, or bi, or something other than straight. Maybe his whole life he had gotten used to that he should like girls, and he just wasn’t aware of who he truly was. Bo squeezed his eyes shut, his heart rate increasing. His hands went up into his hair, grabbing fistfuls and letting out exasperating coughs. Everything was happening all at once. First the announcement of his adoption, and then this girl comes along and he realizes that he might be gay. It was certainly a day that he would never be able to forget. It all made sense, though, if he actually was gay. All of this was true. It made sense why he didn’t find the “hottest” girl in the class attractive, or why he preferred hanging out with Danny over Michael. He let out a small scream, one from the back of his throat so it was muffled. He just wanting it all to go away. The girl beside him twitched, unsure of what to do.
”Are you okay?” she asked again, ”Can I help you?”
Bo shook his head, holding back tears while his face slowly turned a bright shade of pink. He couldn’t explain his frustration, couldn’t deny it but didn’t want to dig deeper than he already was with himself. So, he announced that he was just told he was adopted. The girl gave him a sympathetic smile, unsure of what to say. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Everything was fine. Peaceful. The girl spoke, saying that her name was Camilla and that her family had just moved into Baltimore. The glimmer in her eyes said that she wasn’t just looking for a friendship but rather something much more. Funny, actually, how he had just made a personal realization that he didn’t like girls, and now one was chasing after him. An idea, though. Perhaps he could “fall in love” with Camilla as a cover up, just to get the other guys off of his back for the next however long. It was always an option, and it was a win-win, so why not?

It didn’t take long for thirteen year old Bo to win over the heart of the blonde-haired girl. She was easily persuaded, and the moment that she found out he was a football player, she was all in. Danny and Michael would always slap him on the back, asking him how he got such a hot girl, but he would never answer. He didn’t love her, and barely thought of her as a friend. It felt odd, having to text her “love you” and hold her hand whenever there was a given moment. It was what was considered to be normal, though, so the closeted boy held his secret close.
Time went on and life became more of a struggle. By entering high school, he set himself up for failure. Football was what he tried out for, and it was the position of quarterback that he received. Camilla was ecstatic that her boyfriend was practically the talk of the school, that she was dating someone popular. Even as a freshmen he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could keep up the act. His parents were starting to wonder how he stayed with the same girl for so long, and how he didn’t even comment when there was a half-naked women on the TV. His mother would announce that he was faithful to his girlfriend, but his father had second ideas. It wasn’t until the man confronted his son that Bo wondered how poor of a job he was doing at keeping his secret.
”You don’t like boys, do you?” his dad asked him one night, his voice calm and collected.
Bo was unsure how to respond. Should he tell the truth and let the cat out of the bag or viciously refuse and become violent against the remark? He’d been keeping his sexual preferences to himself for the past two years, so what was the point of coming out now?
He shoved his dad back, ”I’m not gay!” he shouted, quickly realizing that his reaction wasn’t a good cover up, but it was too late to go back.
His father tried to reel the conversation back in, obviously realizing that he had pushed some sort of line. “Bo, I’m not saying that you are, I’m just saying that-“
”You’re saying that I’m gay!” Bo interrupted, trying to keep his anger, or rather fear, under control.
What was he even scared about? Was it the fact that his parents were starting to catch onto who he truly was, or perhaps that he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself again? This was when his mother walked into the room, a hand on her hip and that glare in her eye when you knew she was about to become stern.
”What’s going on in here?” She asked, eyeing the two boys whom were obviously about to start yelling at one another again, or even potentially start throwing things.
Bo looked at his mom, raising his voice as he spoke, ”Dad keeps calling me gay and won’t listen to me at-“
“You know that’s not true, Bo, I just asked a simple question.“ His father interrupted him, making the blood under his own skin boil.
“Beauford.” His mother said in a calm voice, which was honestly more terrifying than anything else. “Stop talking. You’re father’s sorry, and I’ll make sure that I work this out with him. As for now, you should lay down,” her hand reached for his arm, but he drew back. ”but if you yell like that again, there’s no way we’re letting you play the next football game.”
”That’s not fair at all! I wasn’t even the one-”
”BO.”
The freshmen shrunk back, terrified of his mother, of himself. His parents retreated from his room and the boy let out a heavy sigh. Nothing was right. He couldn’t call Danny, that surely wouldn’t go well after the last incident with his parents. Camilla would love him to call her, but there wasn’t any way in hell that he was going to call the one person that was making his life miserable. Miserable. Right. She was the only one holding all of this together. Bo let out a sob, one quick cry that he couldn’t hold in any longer. What was worse about being a closeted gay and withholding a girlfriend was the fact that he was the hot-shot of his grade that beat up kids with his own secret. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be, was it? He just wished that he could start over and maybe chose to live with his actual parents. Would they be more accepting? Was there even a chance that he’d be able to meet his parents in the future? Emotions were running wild and he couldn’t control them. There wasn’t anything he could do…

( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！

[Part 4]

(view spoiler)[ [ (☆^O^★)ξ(IMPROVED)This template, ★ ～☆A Students Stars☆~ ★, is brought to you by Leena, please do not copy or use without first asking, if you do use it credit me, thank you so much. It was inspired by Ariel my Person, Sea the Fiend, Carlene and Ella.ξ(☆^O^★) (hide spoiler)] (hide spoiler)]



Love. It was great, wasn’t it? Camilla had grown a strong bond with her boyfriend, loving him unconditionally and supporting him through every step of the way. They’re seniors now, the top of the food-chain and the head couple of the school. With Bo being the quarterback in football – as well as the captain of the basketball team – and herself being the head cheerleader, they practically had everyone bowing at their feet. Did they like having all the attention? Camilla did, that was for sure. Bo, however, just wished that it would all go away at some points. He was the tough guy, the one that called the shots and made everyone else who they were supposed to be. He was the one that directed the other guys to beat up a kid – or even sometimes beat them up himself. His secret is still secure within his mind and body, and it’s gotten easier to hide it. After the incident with his father, he’s learned that if he stares at a girl’s or smirks a little as the “hottie” walks away, then nobody questions your sexuality. Bo’s gotten used to pretending that Camilla is his world. Hell, after almost six years of this cover up, he’s started to get a hang of how to show affection. And, if all else fails, he can just picture that the girl is Danny.
Ah, Danny. The secret love of his life. It’s weird, all of it is. It’s hard to keep himself contained sometimes, harder than you would believe. The locker rooms, when everyone including the one boy he’s liked since he was twelve, is running around half naked – or fully naked – in order to get ready for practice. It’s not something he can always choke down and swallow, and some days are worse than others, but what did you expect? Danny isn’t someone you can just get over in a day, especially for a closeted senior.
Now, life hasn’t changed much for eighteen year old Bo. He’s still very sports oriented, and his parents are supporting him through every step of the way. It’s obvious to see that his mother believes he is straight and has a passion of Camilla, but his father is still doubting his son terribly. Bo wishes to know who his real parents are and why they truly gave him away, but it seems as if that will never happen. He wants to know if he’ll ever break up with his girlfriend and come out to the world, but that doesn’t look promising. Who knows, though? He still has one year left in high school, and anything could happen in that amount of time span. Let’s just start off with easy goals for the year. Survive.

ღ"I don’t know how I’m going to get through life."ღ



*:--☆--:*:--☆:*:--☆--:*< Relationship(s) *:--☆--:*:--☆:*:--☆--:*

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Family ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
♠ Riley Kober – biological mother
♠ Josh Muller – biological father
♠ Amy Reynolds – adoptive mother
♠ Trey Reynolds – adoptive father

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Friends ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
♤ Michael Gralak
♤ Danny White

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Lovers ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
♥♥ Camilla Rawlings – together for five, almost six years (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
♥♥

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ Crushes ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
♡♡ Danny White (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

ღ"I don’t know what I want for my future, but until then, I’ll live in the present."ღ



▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ℚ uestions You May Be Wanting To Ask ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
✓Would you rather come out and get the guy of your dreams or meet your birth parents?
As of right now? Come out. I’d love to meet my parents but I just can’t see that at the top of my list. I want to be comfortable in my relationship, and this shit going on right now isn’t something I’m comfortable with.

✓So how far have you… gotten… with Camilla?
We’ve kissed, made out even, but that’s about it. J-Just don’t tell anyone that. We’re the “it” couple, and if the secret gets out that we haven’t actually done “it” yet, then there’s nothing else to go off of.

✓Why does your dad believe you’re not straight?
Other than the fact that I’m not? Well, I’m actually not sure. It could be a number of reasons but this is something you’d have to ask him.


▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ℱavorite song lyrics ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁
Because these words were never easier for me to say
or her to second guess, but I guess….
That I can live without you but
without you I'll be miserable,
and I can live without you
but without you I'll be miserable,
and I can live without you, oh,
without you I'll be miserable at best.


ღ"Who cares." ღ



★We are students of words: we are shut up in schools, and colleges, and recitation -rooms, for ten or fifteen years, and come out at last with a bag of wind, a memory of words, and do not know a thing ★


( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！( ^_^)／ やぁ！