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Futuristic ๐๐๐ก๐จ๐ ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ข. โ APPLICATIONS
miyabi
๐ช ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ช ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ง๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ
finally complete; spain, silent s
the healer
fc: jamie chung
elliot cho.
โกcoded by uxieโก
1.
2.
3.
4.
ํ๋ฌ
โกdesign by triples, coded by uxieโก
mobile friendly ver:
THE HEALER
โ ABSIT INVIDIA. โ
Full Name: Elliot Cho
Nickname: Ellie
Age: 24 years old
Gender: cis-female
Sexuality: pansexual
Ethnicity: korean
Nationality: u.s. american
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: dark brown, almost black, and rarely ever styled; worn in either a messy ponytail with dark tendrils framing the face or straight down.
Eyes: pools of dark brown, monolidded and round.
Skin: a light olive color with little to no blemishes, aside from the random scars from childhood; tattooless and free of any other modifications.
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 114 lbs.
Physical Build:
lithe, slightly muscular, and athletic. elliot was one known to be one that favored running over laying around.
Blood Type: O+
Physical Conditions: regarding her physical condition, it's a surprise that elliot was in good health -- given her heavy preference for nicotine, caffeine, and iffy sleep patterns.
Mental Conditions: elliot, unfortunately, suffers from depression. however, she does her best to cover it up for the sake of others, as well as to avoid speaking on it.
Vice(s): caffeine addiction, nicotine addiction, insomnia.
Clothing/style:
Personality:
Be the bigger person.
Her mother's favorite words, worn deep into the crevices of her mind over the course of her childhood; however, to Elliot, why were these words only applicable to those who were wronged? On a good day, these words are a source of her self preservation -- on the bad ones, with the words of another deeply etched into her own self doubt and insecurities, these words do more harm than good. words that were meant to protect, shaped Elliot into a woman that constantly yearns for her own strength, intelligence, and willpower. She is resilient, yet continues to prove that she is far more fragile than she lets on, even with the walls purposely surrounding her heart; apprehensive about showing the emotions brewing deep within. Shattered, selfish, yet makes her attempts to disprove these claims, going out of her way to help others -- only to convince herself that she is a better person that she actually is.
In the face of emotional adversity, Elliot retreats to her own -- a clear avoidance towards facing her issues, but insists on handling the issues of others, lending an ear and an open mind; internalizing her feelings, whilst continuing to take on the emotional load of others. An equally severe avoidance towards affection and intimacy, platonic and romantic, Elliot is uncomfortable when facing her own feelings and needs for touch -- having been starved of it during her childhood years. However, one can only do so much before the turmoil completely breaks her down -- in the case that it does, Elliot is quick to lash out, quick to cry -- anything to vocalize what she is feeling without directly saying so, easily frustrating for others.
Her actions, often risky, are present to fill the void ripped into her person -- impulsive decisions, often opting for independence over teamwork; a lone wolf that, much to her dismay, craves the presence of another, yet wholeheartedly refuses the outstretched gestures -- stubborn to a fault. Distrustful of others outside of her small circle, Elliot is not one to warm up easily, however desires companionship -- a downfall of hers that she acknowledges, but cannot accept. Once her trust is broken, which is easily so, it is far more difficult to rebuild; burdened by her own traumas and critical doubts of another's intentions, be it good or bad. Once trusted, however, Elliot's loyalty runs deep -- with her actions speaking far louder than her words; a firm believer in standing by another even in the face of danger.
To conquer the heavy emotional turmoil and traumas of her past, Elliot uses her humor and sarcasm to get by.
Upon meeting new people, Elliot isn't quick to introduce herself, but easily adapts and observes those around her. Quick on her feet, her adaptability is admirable, as is her advanced aptitude in problem solving. Sometimes found to be heavily lost in thought, she dwells in silence, eyes often blank with little expression; an indicator of her piecing things together with the attempts to figure out the best outcomes.
Positive traits:
Loyal, intelligent, witty, independent, observant, adaptable.
Negative traits:
cynical, petty, anxious, sarcastic, easily stressed, stand-offish, impulsive.
Likes:
rollercoasters, dogs, space documentaries, writing, interactive museums, video games, bad movies, breaking things, fixing things, junk food, reassurance.
Dislikes:
the dark, small enclosed spaces, overly crowded areas, being talked over, kiwis, candy corn, squirrels, being yelled at, high-stress situations, white wine.
Habits, quirks:
often picks at her nails when stressed, rubs her temples when stressed, often scrunches up her nose when she dislikes something.
Fears:
drowning, being responsible for another person's death, not being wanted, dark forests, bugs (specifically maggots and centipedes).
BACKGROUND -
History:
One can be lonely anywhere, at any point in time, despite the people surrounding them; Elliot was no stranger to this idea. The eldest to a single mother, father unknown, an older sister to a young woman who, unfortunately, didn't care much for listening, Elliot -- for the most part -- was often left tending to the needs of others rather than her own. And to say that her life was anything but mediocre would be an understatement; with no real authoritative figures in her life and the lack of resources she so desperately needed, Elliot wasn't exactly given many outcomes. Her life could go one of two ways, really -- predestined from a young age to fend for herself and the needs of others while neglecting her own self. Her childhood, like many others, held little to no fond memories; family trips didn't exist, mother constantly on the brink of collapse due to exhaustion, younger sister too young to really do much around home.
She'd become an adult before she could enter middle school.
This isn't to say that Elliot wasn't raised well. Her mother, a woman who stood by patience being a virtue, always taught her children to choose peace over any type of violence; this, however, did her no favors. For a while, Elliot was a pushover -- others taking advantage of this while she fought to entrust the goodness of others that never quite showed. Her inquisitive nature did no help; in fact, with her constant onslaught of questions came a major influx of disappointments, grief, and continuous sadness over points she shouldn't have been upset over.
Be the bigger person?
Elliot couldn't be. As much as she wanted to uphold the words of her mother, there was the understanding that although peace was a virtue, one had to stand up for themselves and fight for their beliefs. Her younger years, despite the impression her mother left from a young age, had been met with a slew of detentions, confrontations, and the eventual suspension; the school, however, couldn't keep Elliot away. She'd been determined, ambitious even. With her headstrong demeanor, Elliot hadn't been one to back away despite the trials and tribulations. Her high school years weren't as troubling -- with the young woman quick to clean up her act as a means to get herself into college and away from a mother she'd taken for granted.
Her intelligence got her through classes, earned her the valedictorian spot, as well as scholarships -- put to use towards a shining Political Science degree, one that cost her sleepless nights and a downward spiral in terms of her mental health. To her it was worth it, eventually graduating and becoming an investigative journalist; in her field, Elliot excelled, but had poked her nose in places which she shouldn't have.
One that was usually left to her own devices, often alone, Elliot hadn't expected to fall in love -- an idea that had been terrifying all throughout her life. The relationship, however, was toxic.
A man, selfish and taciturn, pushed Elliot to the edge; nights were often filled with muffled arguments, slammed doors, tears, and the next day: half-hearted apologies that she couldn't help but accept because of the love, or thought of love, she held. Willing to overlook these issues that, to the people around them, were more than just that, Elliot endured what she possibly could to salvage the pieces of a relationship that shouldn't have happened; she was stuck with, what she felt, no way to get out. What was once an ambitious woman become less than that -- a different person that she could no longer recognize.
In a glimmer of hope (or desperation), Elliot found an opportunity that she couldn't turn down.
As an investigative journalist, the woman was hungry for another hard hitting story -- and what better way than to start with the gritty, harsh topics of serial killers. In her city, there had been a string of murders spanning over a few years -- gruesome images being sent to the police stations, causing panic amongst the civilians. Befriending a detective with an unlimited amount of resources, she'd convinced him to allow her to tag along. Of course, with the promise of staying out of trouble -- one she would ultimately break due to her own unwavering curiosity.
DEATH: TW VIOLENCE
โ ABSIT INVIDIA. โ
Full Name: Elliot Cho
Nickname: Ellie
Age: 24 years old
Gender: cis-female
Sexuality: pansexual
Ethnicity: korean
Nationality: u.s. american
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: dark brown, almost black, and rarely ever styled; worn in either a messy ponytail with dark tendrils framing the face or straight down.
Eyes: pools of dark brown, monolidded and round.
Skin: a light olive color with little to no blemishes, aside from the random scars from childhood; tattooless and free of any other modifications.
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 114 lbs.
Physical Build:
lithe, slightly muscular, and athletic. elliot was one known to be one that favored running over laying around.
Blood Type: O+
Physical Conditions: regarding her physical condition, it's a surprise that elliot was in good health -- given her heavy preference for nicotine, caffeine, and iffy sleep patterns.
Mental Conditions: elliot, unfortunately, suffers from depression. however, she does her best to cover it up for the sake of others, as well as to avoid speaking on it.
Vice(s): caffeine addiction, nicotine addiction, insomnia.
Clothing/style:
Personality:
Be the bigger person.
Her mother's favorite words, worn deep into the crevices of her mind over the course of her childhood; however, to Elliot, why were these words only applicable to those who were wronged? On a good day, these words are a source of her self preservation -- on the bad ones, with the words of another deeply etched into her own self doubt and insecurities, these words do more harm than good. words that were meant to protect, shaped Elliot into a woman that constantly yearns for her own strength, intelligence, and willpower. She is resilient, yet continues to prove that she is far more fragile than she lets on, even with the walls purposely surrounding her heart; apprehensive about showing the emotions brewing deep within. Shattered, selfish, yet makes her attempts to disprove these claims, going out of her way to help others -- only to convince herself that she is a better person that she actually is.
In the face of emotional adversity, Elliot retreats to her own -- a clear avoidance towards facing her issues, but insists on handling the issues of others, lending an ear and an open mind; internalizing her feelings, whilst continuing to take on the emotional load of others. An equally severe avoidance towards affection and intimacy, platonic and romantic, Elliot is uncomfortable when facing her own feelings and needs for touch -- having been starved of it during her childhood years. However, one can only do so much before the turmoil completely breaks her down -- in the case that it does, Elliot is quick to lash out, quick to cry -- anything to vocalize what she is feeling without directly saying so, easily frustrating for others.
Her actions, often risky, are present to fill the void ripped into her person -- impulsive decisions, often opting for independence over teamwork; a lone wolf that, much to her dismay, craves the presence of another, yet wholeheartedly refuses the outstretched gestures -- stubborn to a fault. Distrustful of others outside of her small circle, Elliot is not one to warm up easily, however desires companionship -- a downfall of hers that she acknowledges, but cannot accept. Once her trust is broken, which is easily so, it is far more difficult to rebuild; burdened by her own traumas and critical doubts of another's intentions, be it good or bad. Once trusted, however, Elliot's loyalty runs deep -- with her actions speaking far louder than her words; a firm believer in standing by another even in the face of danger.
To conquer the heavy emotional turmoil and traumas of her past, Elliot uses her humor and sarcasm to get by.
Upon meeting new people, Elliot isn't quick to introduce herself, but easily adapts and observes those around her. Quick on her feet, her adaptability is admirable, as is her advanced aptitude in problem solving. Sometimes found to be heavily lost in thought, she dwells in silence, eyes often blank with little expression; an indicator of her piecing things together with the attempts to figure out the best outcomes.
Positive traits:
Loyal, intelligent, witty, independent, observant, adaptable.
Negative traits:
cynical, petty, anxious, sarcastic, easily stressed, stand-offish, impulsive.
Likes:
rollercoasters, dogs, space documentaries, writing, interactive museums, video games, bad movies, breaking things, fixing things, junk food, reassurance.
Dislikes:
the dark, small enclosed spaces, overly crowded areas, being talked over, kiwis, candy corn, squirrels, being yelled at, high-stress situations, white wine.
Habits, quirks:
often picks at her nails when stressed, rubs her temples when stressed, often scrunches up her nose when she dislikes something.
Fears:
drowning, being responsible for another person's death, not being wanted, dark forests, bugs (specifically maggots and centipedes).
BACKGROUND -
History:
One can be lonely anywhere, at any point in time, despite the people surrounding them; Elliot was no stranger to this idea. The eldest to a single mother, father unknown, an older sister to a young woman who, unfortunately, didn't care much for listening, Elliot -- for the most part -- was often left tending to the needs of others rather than her own. And to say that her life was anything but mediocre would be an understatement; with no real authoritative figures in her life and the lack of resources she so desperately needed, Elliot wasn't exactly given many outcomes. Her life could go one of two ways, really -- predestined from a young age to fend for herself and the needs of others while neglecting her own self. Her childhood, like many others, held little to no fond memories; family trips didn't exist, mother constantly on the brink of collapse due to exhaustion, younger sister too young to really do much around home.
She'd become an adult before she could enter middle school.
This isn't to say that Elliot wasn't raised well. Her mother, a woman who stood by patience being a virtue, always taught her children to choose peace over any type of violence; this, however, did her no favors. For a while, Elliot was a pushover -- others taking advantage of this while she fought to entrust the goodness of others that never quite showed. Her inquisitive nature did no help; in fact, with her constant onslaught of questions came a major influx of disappointments, grief, and continuous sadness over points she shouldn't have been upset over.
Be the bigger person?
Elliot couldn't be. As much as she wanted to uphold the words of her mother, there was the understanding that although peace was a virtue, one had to stand up for themselves and fight for their beliefs. Her younger years, despite the impression her mother left from a young age, had been met with a slew of detentions, confrontations, and the eventual suspension; the school, however, couldn't keep Elliot away. She'd been determined, ambitious even. With her headstrong demeanor, Elliot hadn't been one to back away despite the trials and tribulations. Her high school years weren't as troubling -- with the young woman quick to clean up her act as a means to get herself into college and away from a mother she'd taken for granted.
Her intelligence got her through classes, earned her the valedictorian spot, as well as scholarships -- put to use towards a shining Political Science degree, one that cost her sleepless nights and a downward spiral in terms of her mental health. To her it was worth it, eventually graduating and becoming an investigative journalist; in her field, Elliot excelled, but had poked her nose in places which she shouldn't have.
One that was usually left to her own devices, often alone, Elliot hadn't expected to fall in love -- an idea that had been terrifying all throughout her life. The relationship, however, was toxic.
A man, selfish and taciturn, pushed Elliot to the edge; nights were often filled with muffled arguments, slammed doors, tears, and the next day: half-hearted apologies that she couldn't help but accept because of the love, or thought of love, she held. Willing to overlook these issues that, to the people around them, were more than just that, Elliot endured what she possibly could to salvage the pieces of a relationship that shouldn't have happened; she was stuck with, what she felt, no way to get out. What was once an ambitious woman become less than that -- a different person that she could no longer recognize.
In a glimmer of hope (or desperation), Elliot found an opportunity that she couldn't turn down.
As an investigative journalist, the woman was hungry for another hard hitting story -- and what better way than to start with the gritty, harsh topics of serial killers. In her city, there had been a string of murders spanning over a few years -- gruesome images being sent to the police stations, causing panic amongst the civilians. Befriending a detective with an unlimited amount of resources, she'd convinced him to allow her to tag along. Of course, with the promise of staying out of trouble -- one she would ultimately break due to her own unwavering curiosity.
DEATH: TW VIOLENCE
There had been a lead, one that the detective had been following for quite some time, Elliot tagging along in the case of any developments -- a way for her to be the first to write about it. Hot on the serial killer's trail, tensions were high, the two finding their way at an abandoned building for clues, unbeknownst to them, the serial killer had been dwelling in the decrepit structure. Instructed to stay in the car, the detective went in, leaving a defenseless Elliot in the car. Dark, cold, and incredibly restless, Elliot couldn't help but allow her thoughts to convince her to leave safety. She was curious, a bit scared, but that wouldn't have stopped her from her fatal decision.
Equipped with a flash light, her cellphone, and a notepad, Elliot scouted the perimeter of the building in hopes to find where the detective had been. He was, unfortunately, dead by the time she'd found him; flesh ripped open, the man's body sitting in a pool of blood.
The killer had been lying in wait, hoping that Elliot would find the body.
Darkness, a burning sensation, and a struggle; Elliot had been stabbed on multiple occassions, but continued to fight for her life despite the large figure looming over. She only thought she'd gotten to safety, locking herself in a room, only for the killer to reach in through the smashed window, ultimately dragging her out. Never having been in such a state of panic and desperation, Elliot had been searching for any way to defend herself and somehow get away. A large cold glass shard ripped through the skin of her palms as she tried to fight him off. That didn't stop him.
She finally met her demise as he'd continued to drag her by the hair, her screams left unheard. Her body was found a few days later after pictures were sent to the station, giving them a location -- killer long gone and still on the loose.
Equipped with a flash light, her cellphone, and a notepad, Elliot scouted the perimeter of the building in hopes to find where the detective had been. He was, unfortunately, dead by the time she'd found him; flesh ripped open, the man's body sitting in a pool of blood.
The killer had been lying in wait, hoping that Elliot would find the body.
Darkness, a burning sensation, and a struggle; Elliot had been stabbed on multiple occassions, but continued to fight for her life despite the large figure looming over. She only thought she'd gotten to safety, locking herself in a room, only for the killer to reach in through the smashed window, ultimately dragging her out. Never having been in such a state of panic and desperation, Elliot had been searching for any way to defend herself and somehow get away. A large cold glass shard ripped through the skin of her palms as she tried to fight him off. That didn't stop him.
She finally met her demise as he'd continued to drag her by the hair, her screams left unheard. Her body was found a few days later after pictures were sent to the station, giving them a location -- killer long gone and still on the loose.
Last edited:
PRETTY HATE MACHINE.
โ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ป ๐ป๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ป !!
placeholder for technopathy
Last edited:
Yuumi Zoomi
light mode is a sin
placeholder for electrokinesis (i switched)
Last edited:
idiot
๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ ๐ซ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ด๐ฏ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฅ.
placeholder for a gal with telekinesis.
Last edited:
KaramelKarma
สแดษดแดสสส, แดกสแดสแด's แดส สแดแดแดษด sแดษชแด ?!
placeholder for pyrokinesis
Kwayzar
The One and Only BREAD PRIEST!!!
Placeholder for the Ferrokinesis boi
Last edited:
s o u r
depressed bitch hours are 24/7
Emotional Enigma
Empathetic Empress
Umbrakinesis!
โWarum spielst du die beleidigte Leberwurst? โ
(Not a great English translation that'll make sense but it's a saying for when someone is being dramatic or throwing a tantrum)
Full Name: Angelus Carter Hawthorne
Nickname: Carter
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Ethnicity: Germanic descent
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Blonde hair / comb over
Eyes color: Dark brown
Skin: Porcelain / Ivory
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 165 lbs.
Physical Build: Medium frame, mildly muscular - mesomorphic
Blood Type: Type O
Physical Conditions: None
Mental Conditions: Mild sociopathy / antisocial personality disorder
Vice(s): Alcohol / Gambling
Clothing/style: Vintage / Business
Personality:
Positive Traits:
Negative Traits:
Likes:
**BACKGROUND -**
History:
Towards the end of Carter's training he stopped taking his medications. They made him feel groggy and sick, less of himself and he couldn't deprive the world of such a special specimen like himself. He began flush them without his parents knowledge and started his gruesome reign once more throughout the town. He took up a career in casino business and money laundered thousands of dollars for the owner. He was paid handsomely for the illegal activity it took to keep up the faรงade of the establishment. Some problems needed a rougher hand to fix them and Carter was more than willing to be that rough hand. He felt no loyalty to the owner but the illegality felt exhilarating and not to mention, he was good at it.
Carter met his grim demise when he his arrogance got the best of him. His boss aimed to screw him over and Carter couldn't allow that to happen. He threatened the man, not believing he would be dumb enough to kill the only employee who did his job so well. Carter was wrong and the owner shot him in a shabby motel on the outskirts of town. It was a run down place where those with broken cyberwear would come to get illegal, cheap new equipment. Most would simply think Carter's dead body was a cyberwear trade gone wrong or a holotape hack that fried his system with illegal material.
(WIP - I may have to edit some of this, just throwing down some bone work here!)
โWarum spielst du die beleidigte Leberwurst? โ
(Not a great English translation that'll make sense but it's a saying for when someone is being dramatic or throwing a tantrum)
Full Name: Angelus Carter Hawthorne
Nickname: Carter
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Ethnicity: Germanic descent
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Blonde hair / comb over
Eyes color: Dark brown
Skin: Porcelain / Ivory
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 165 lbs.
Physical Build: Medium frame, mildly muscular - mesomorphic
Blood Type: Type O
Physical Conditions: None
Mental Conditions: Mild sociopathy / antisocial personality disorder
Vice(s): Alcohol / Gambling
Clothing/style: Vintage / Business
Personality:
Carter looks like an upstanding citizen but is quite the opposite. He has a knack for manipulation and deception with little remorse for those around him. His true personality is one of selfishness and chaotic jealousy but he hides it well from everyone, including his family. When in character Carter seems to take on the personality of a gentleman with a hint of classy sarcasm; little pokes here and there. He laughs loudly and is friendly, smiling at everyone who greets him. The persona he aims for when in character is that of a perfect bachelor gentleman but his genuine personality is much more reserved and aloof. He prefers the stillness of silence and being alone but shows very few people that side of him, preferring people have the opposite view.
Positive Traits:
- Headstrong
- Clever
- Observant
- Patient
- Determined
- Manipulative
- Selfish
- Dishonest
- Arrogant
- Coffee with whiskey
- A winning hand in poker
- People watching
- Animals
- Children
- Cheating
- Veganism
- People in general
- Smoking
- Wincing when initially lying
- A cold stare when not in character
- Not being in control
- Being attached to someone without a way to free himself
- (marriage, a child, legally binding contracts, moral obligations, etc.)
**BACKGROUND -**
History:
Carter was a normal young boy and for the most part, had a normal upbringing. He grew up an only child with two loving parents and underwent the best training they could offer. His life in the eyes of his parents however were marked by very notable events. He terrorized the house staff as soon as he understood what pain was and they paid more and more money to make all his "accidents" go away. From home appliances that "went awry" to the maids nearly falling in the carbon thrusters of vehicles, Carter was a menace that his parents constantly shelled out money to keep a public image of perfection. The house staff was eventually replaced by state of the art robotics to avoid any more lawsuits or hush money but they hadn't seen better days either. Robots were replaced every two to four weeks due to Carter's insatiable curiosity and destruction.
Once Carter developed into young adulthood, his parents put him through expensive and extensive therapy. His sociopathy was discovered very quickly and he was prescribed mood stabilizers and SSRI's. His training showed a dramatic improvement as he was became more focused. He excelled in every area and his parents believed they had found the solution.Towards the end of Carter's training he stopped taking his medications. They made him feel groggy and sick, less of himself and he couldn't deprive the world of such a special specimen like himself. He began flush them without his parents knowledge and started his gruesome reign once more throughout the town. He took up a career in casino business and money laundered thousands of dollars for the owner. He was paid handsomely for the illegal activity it took to keep up the faรงade of the establishment. Some problems needed a rougher hand to fix them and Carter was more than willing to be that rough hand. He felt no loyalty to the owner but the illegality felt exhilarating and not to mention, he was good at it.
Carter met his grim demise when he his arrogance got the best of him. His boss aimed to screw him over and Carter couldn't allow that to happen. He threatened the man, not believing he would be dumb enough to kill the only employee who did his job so well. Carter was wrong and the owner shot him in a shabby motel on the outskirts of town. It was a run down place where those with broken cyberwear would come to get illegal, cheap new equipment. Most would simply think Carter's dead body was a cyberwear trade gone wrong or a holotape hack that fried his system with illegal material.
(WIP - I may have to edit some of this, just throwing down some bone work here!)
Oumscar
nah.
werk in pergresssssssssssss.
๐ฎ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฝ๐ป๐ธ๐ด๐ฒ๐ท๐ฎ๐ผ๐ฒ๐ผ
~*~
fc - alex aiono
~*~
โ ..Oh- yeah, totally. Lightning bolts 'n whatnot flying outta my ass- the whole works.โ
Full Name:
Elijah North
Nickname:
Eli, A Duracell On Steroids, the Battery Boy, and so on...
Age
Twenty-one
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Pansexual
Ethnicity:
Samoan
Nationality:
American
Appearance
~*~
Hair color and style:
A dark brown, verging on black when not in the light. Styled in a messy flop to one side, with loose strands hanging down over his face.
Eyes color:
A chocolatey brown, that reflect almost amber in sunlight.
Skin:
A smooth, naturally tanned complexion.
Height:
5'11"
Weight:
75kg
Physical Build:
Leanly built, yet without a overly defined musculature
Blood Type:
B positive
Physical Conditions:
Eli likes to keep himself in fairly good condition, though he often finds himself on the business end of a joint, or the newest e-cigarette going around his friend group. It's mostly harmless, and a recreational luxury, or at least that's what he likes to think.
Mental Conditions:
Eli thinks of himself as quite lucky, as he doesn't struggle overtly with any of the more common mental conditions, such as depression, and anxiety. Hopefully it will stay that way!
Vice(s):
Illicit substances, slothfulness, ignorance
Clothing/style:
Baggy, often oddly chosen combinations of colours, or patterns. Despite it's eccentricity, it seems to suit him.
Personality:
Eli is a pretty weird guy. That's what people tell him at least. Not weird in the sense that he's a creep, or anti-social, but weird in the sense that he seems to actually like people. Odd, but there's something about him that puts most people at ease- the goofy, lopsided grin, the mop of hair on his head that seems to have a mind of it's own- it all paints a picture of a man with a warm, welcoming nature. He might exactly fit this description, but unfortunately Eli finds himself often on the backfoot when it comes to intelligence. Some have likened him to a 'lost puppy' a times, he seeks out the best in people to a fault, often with disastrous consequences for himself. Eli is an easy target for manipulation, though his laid-back lifestyle has restricted his exposure to those who would use his genuine nature for ill-purposes. Despite his ignorance, Eli is actually quite skilled at reading the emotional state of people, even if he can't recognize bad intentions behind some of them.
Positive Traits:
Empathetic
Good-humoured
Easy-going
Negative Traits:
Ignorant
Manipulatable
Likes:
Dislikes:
Habits, quirks:
Fears: THIS WILL BE USED IN THE RP.
**BACKGROUND -**
History: PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR CHARACTER'S DEATH; this does not have to be graphic, however if it is, PLEASE put a TRIGGER WARNING on the post.
~*~
fc - alex aiono
~*~
โ ..Oh- yeah, totally. Lightning bolts 'n whatnot flying outta my ass- the whole works.โ
Full Name:
Elijah North
Nickname:
Eli, A Duracell On Steroids, the Battery Boy, and so on...
Age
Twenty-one
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Pansexual
Ethnicity:
Samoan
Nationality:
American
Appearance
~*~
Hair color and style:
A dark brown, verging on black when not in the light. Styled in a messy flop to one side, with loose strands hanging down over his face.
Eyes color:
A chocolatey brown, that reflect almost amber in sunlight.
Skin:
A smooth, naturally tanned complexion.
Height:
5'11"
Weight:
75kg
Physical Build:
Leanly built, yet without a overly defined musculature
Blood Type:
B positive
Physical Conditions:
Eli likes to keep himself in fairly good condition, though he often finds himself on the business end of a joint, or the newest e-cigarette going around his friend group. It's mostly harmless, and a recreational luxury, or at least that's what he likes to think.
Mental Conditions:
Eli thinks of himself as quite lucky, as he doesn't struggle overtly with any of the more common mental conditions, such as depression, and anxiety. Hopefully it will stay that way!
Vice(s):
Illicit substances, slothfulness, ignorance
Clothing/style:
Baggy, often oddly chosen combinations of colours, or patterns. Despite it's eccentricity, it seems to suit him.
Personality:
Eli is a pretty weird guy. That's what people tell him at least. Not weird in the sense that he's a creep, or anti-social, but weird in the sense that he seems to actually like people. Odd, but there's something about him that puts most people at ease- the goofy, lopsided grin, the mop of hair on his head that seems to have a mind of it's own- it all paints a picture of a man with a warm, welcoming nature. He might exactly fit this description, but unfortunately Eli finds himself often on the backfoot when it comes to intelligence. Some have likened him to a 'lost puppy' a times, he seeks out the best in people to a fault, often with disastrous consequences for himself. Eli is an easy target for manipulation, though his laid-back lifestyle has restricted his exposure to those who would use his genuine nature for ill-purposes. Despite his ignorance, Eli is actually quite skilled at reading the emotional state of people, even if he can't recognize bad intentions behind some of them.
Positive Traits:
Empathetic
Good-humoured
Easy-going
Negative Traits:
Ignorant
Manipulatable
Likes:
Dislikes:
Habits, quirks:
Fears: THIS WILL BE USED IN THE RP.
**BACKGROUND -**
History: PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR CHARACTER'S DEATH; this does not have to be graphic, however if it is, PLEASE put a TRIGGER WARNING on the post.
SachiGrl
Indecisive Being
Last edited:
mother of sorrows
๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ป, ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐จ๐ช๐ฃ ๐ฎ๐ช๐ณ ๐ฏ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ๐ต
Appearance
full name
Donnie 'Don' Westlee
age
twenty-nine
gender
cis male
sexuality
questioning
ethnicity
caucausian
nationality
american
DW
Personality
Biography
ยฉ pasta
PYROKINESIS
Full Name: Donnie 'Don' Westlee
Nickname: Don
Age: 29
Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Questioning
Ethnicity: Caucausian
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Dark brown, messy - rarely kept together
Eyes color: Blue-ish grey
Skin: Littered with scars
Height: 6'2'' feet
Weight: 173.3 lbs
Physical Build: Muscular
Blood Type: AB +
Physical Conditions: Addiction to various substances, an arm injured in the past
Mental Conditions: Unresolved trauma and mental illness
Vice(s): Drugs, smoking, alcohol
Clothing/style: WIP
FACE CLAIM: Brad Pitt in Fight Club
Personality:
Donnie is, to put it kindly, the definition of a lost cause.
With no goals or motivations to speak of, Donnie drifts through life with all the grace of dead wood. He managed to kill himself long before he died physically; he's the faceless drunk at the bar, the junkie passed out in a booth. A man you'd watch deteriorate with a pitying gaze and a shake of your head. Somebody who would likely die somewhere alone, clutching a bottle - insignificant and forgotten. He's been on the spiral of drugs, alcohol and crime for years and Donnie holds no hope for the future. About all he gets these days is maybe a cynical chuckle at how he turned out.
Bitter humor is the Maginot line of the lost, and God knows Donnie has been lost for a long time.
Witty, laid-back and friendly, Donnie is a man that's painfully aware of his own faults. He knows there is not much to him, knows he is a shitty man with a shitty life. If there had at one been any potential in him, it has long been stamped out. Actually changing for the better is a far-off, fever dream. While not inherently malicious, Donnie drags those close to him (small as the number may be) into his wildly destructive, unstable walkpath - often hurting them in the process without much thinking on his side. Being aware of his flaws does not help the fact he is unwilling to change them.
And yet, there is not much Donnie is afraid of. One thing that's good about him. How do you scare a man that accepts death - even welcomes it?
Easy. There are fates worse than death, after all.
Positive Traits: Humorous, amiable, good listener, self-aware
Negative Traits: Destructive, unstable, hopeless, unwilling to change
Likes: Easy music, drugs, strong alcohol, late night drives
Dislikes: Dogs, shrill voices, Marlboro Reds, being nagged
Habits, quirks: Bouncing his leg, glancing away when lying
Fears: Becoming like his father; a miserable man, bent on terrorizing others. He's too much like him than Donnie would like to admit.
**BACKGROUND **
History:
There was not much meant for Donnie in life.
He didn't exactly have the fairest shot at being good; his mother, an animal hoarder and his father, a miserable, abusive man, were less than capable of taking care of a child. Though they stayed together for the first few years of Donnie's life, it would have no effect if they seperated at his birth. Like hurricanes hidden in human skin, his parents went through daily arguments and flinged abuse. When he wasn't being used as a pawn in their emotional games, Donnie was pushed aside to be forgotten. It took six years of violent tempers for his parents to finally seperate - with his mother insisting she take Donnie, convinced she could take better care of him than his father ever did.
While not as emotionally abusive, his mom was not much better.
The neglect she dished out had severe consequences on young Donnie's pysche, engraving in him issues he's not been able years after. Lonely, yet unwilling to see Donnie more than something to coo at and occasionally pay attention to, his mom collected dogs like a replacement for affection. Too many animals and too little money and time to take care of them, with Donnie being an afterthought. She couldn't take care of Donnie, couldn't care for the dogs, couldn't take care of herself - and it wasn't long before social services came knocking on their door. The dirty floors, half-empty pantry and neglected child were enough for them.
Donnie was taken away and put into a foster home, all at the age of ten.
And like many kids, he too fell through the cracks of the system. Hard.
With too many behavioural problems to be considered for adoption and too unstable a home to be returned, Donnie drifted through group homes, families, his mom's and dad's house like a game of hot potato. Consistency and affection were foreign concepts, lost the process of his belongings being stuffed in trash bags to move again. Faces changed, the places and schools - all while Donnie passed through them, never sticking around for long. The only attachment Donnie was able to make was Lissie, a girl couple of years younger than him. Troubled, mean and more than willing to punch the other kids out, she stole Donnie's meager amount of money the first time they met. The fights they've had developed into a bond that was born out of something more vicious than having common interests; they hardly liked each other on the best of days. But they were cruel and hungry, and so were the other kids. They relied on each other for survival, spitting back double the poison that was handed to them.
Donnie, in time, became like a big brother to Lissie. Their relationship is not pleasant, even cruel in it's lack of warmth. And yet they're closer than anybody; their loyalty is a rare thing, as is their knowledge of one another.
Together they grew up, and they grew different. To her credit, Lissie tried her best to make something out of herself - she finished high school, landed herself a small job. Struggling as she did, she kept her chin up. Her terrible childhood beat into her a demand to persevere; she didn't want to end up like her parents, wanted to have something out of this world even if she has to drag it to herself.
Donnie couldn't have been more different in that regard.
He started the drugs early - they helped, somewhat, as did the parties. The problems at school and being marched to the principal nearly everyday did nothing to snap him out of it. The fights, terrible grades and skipped classes added up to him being expelled - not that Donnie cared much. He was more than content to spend his money on drugs, sleeping away the hangovers at a random friend's couch. Things only went downhill once he turned 18. With the state no longer responsible for him, Donnie was packed up - and kicked out into the real world, flat on his ass. With no connections, family, or skills to speak of, Donnie found himself hanging on a thread. As much as Lissie tried to stop him, Donnie was in no position to listen - he found himself falling headfirst into crime, hanging around thugs and gangsters.
Here he is, years later - a breath away from thirty and still living the run-down life he always had.
He was one of his usual nights out when the accident happened. High and drunk off his ass, he insisted on driving himself and Lissie back home, claiming he was okay. Recovering from an arm injury, Lissie had no other choice. It was either that or walking through a crime filled neighbourhood at night. Despite her hesitation, she eventually relented. Donnie drove them off, barely able to keep his eyes on the road.
It was a car accident waiting to happen.
An oncoming truck, Donnie too sluggish to react, Lissie screaming by his side -
and then nothing.
They were both dead in a flash.
Full Name: Donnie 'Don' Westlee
Nickname: Don
Age: 29
Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Questioning
Ethnicity: Caucausian
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Dark brown, messy - rarely kept together
Eyes color: Blue-ish grey
Skin: Littered with scars
Height: 6'2'' feet
Weight: 173.3 lbs
Physical Build: Muscular
Blood Type: AB +
Physical Conditions: Addiction to various substances, an arm injured in the past
Mental Conditions: Unresolved trauma and mental illness
Vice(s): Drugs, smoking, alcohol
Clothing/style: WIP
FACE CLAIM: Brad Pitt in Fight Club
Personality:
Donnie is, to put it kindly, the definition of a lost cause.
With no goals or motivations to speak of, Donnie drifts through life with all the grace of dead wood. He managed to kill himself long before he died physically; he's the faceless drunk at the bar, the junkie passed out in a booth. A man you'd watch deteriorate with a pitying gaze and a shake of your head. Somebody who would likely die somewhere alone, clutching a bottle - insignificant and forgotten. He's been on the spiral of drugs, alcohol and crime for years and Donnie holds no hope for the future. About all he gets these days is maybe a cynical chuckle at how he turned out.
Bitter humor is the Maginot line of the lost, and God knows Donnie has been lost for a long time.
Witty, laid-back and friendly, Donnie is a man that's painfully aware of his own faults. He knows there is not much to him, knows he is a shitty man with a shitty life. If there had at one been any potential in him, it has long been stamped out. Actually changing for the better is a far-off, fever dream. While not inherently malicious, Donnie drags those close to him (small as the number may be) into his wildly destructive, unstable walkpath - often hurting them in the process without much thinking on his side. Being aware of his flaws does not help the fact he is unwilling to change them.
And yet, there is not much Donnie is afraid of. One thing that's good about him. How do you scare a man that accepts death - even welcomes it?
Easy. There are fates worse than death, after all.
Positive Traits: Humorous, amiable, good listener, self-aware
Negative Traits: Destructive, unstable, hopeless, unwilling to change
Likes: Easy music, drugs, strong alcohol, late night drives
Dislikes: Dogs, shrill voices, Marlboro Reds, being nagged
Habits, quirks: Bouncing his leg, glancing away when lying
Fears: Becoming like his father; a miserable man, bent on terrorizing others. He's too much like him than Donnie would like to admit.
**BACKGROUND **
History:
There was not much meant for Donnie in life.
He didn't exactly have the fairest shot at being good; his mother, an animal hoarder and his father, a miserable, abusive man, were less than capable of taking care of a child. Though they stayed together for the first few years of Donnie's life, it would have no effect if they seperated at his birth. Like hurricanes hidden in human skin, his parents went through daily arguments and flinged abuse. When he wasn't being used as a pawn in their emotional games, Donnie was pushed aside to be forgotten. It took six years of violent tempers for his parents to finally seperate - with his mother insisting she take Donnie, convinced she could take better care of him than his father ever did.
While not as emotionally abusive, his mom was not much better.
The neglect she dished out had severe consequences on young Donnie's pysche, engraving in him issues he's not been able years after. Lonely, yet unwilling to see Donnie more than something to coo at and occasionally pay attention to, his mom collected dogs like a replacement for affection. Too many animals and too little money and time to take care of them, with Donnie being an afterthought. She couldn't take care of Donnie, couldn't care for the dogs, couldn't take care of herself - and it wasn't long before social services came knocking on their door. The dirty floors, half-empty pantry and neglected child were enough for them.
Donnie was taken away and put into a foster home, all at the age of ten.
And like many kids, he too fell through the cracks of the system. Hard.
With too many behavioural problems to be considered for adoption and too unstable a home to be returned, Donnie drifted through group homes, families, his mom's and dad's house like a game of hot potato. Consistency and affection were foreign concepts, lost the process of his belongings being stuffed in trash bags to move again. Faces changed, the places and schools - all while Donnie passed through them, never sticking around for long. The only attachment Donnie was able to make was Lissie, a girl couple of years younger than him. Troubled, mean and more than willing to punch the other kids out, she stole Donnie's meager amount of money the first time they met. The fights they've had developed into a bond that was born out of something more vicious than having common interests; they hardly liked each other on the best of days. But they were cruel and hungry, and so were the other kids. They relied on each other for survival, spitting back double the poison that was handed to them.
Donnie, in time, became like a big brother to Lissie. Their relationship is not pleasant, even cruel in it's lack of warmth. And yet they're closer than anybody; their loyalty is a rare thing, as is their knowledge of one another.
Together they grew up, and they grew different. To her credit, Lissie tried her best to make something out of herself - she finished high school, landed herself a small job. Struggling as she did, she kept her chin up. Her terrible childhood beat into her a demand to persevere; she didn't want to end up like her parents, wanted to have something out of this world even if she has to drag it to herself.
Donnie couldn't have been more different in that regard.
He started the drugs early - they helped, somewhat, as did the parties. The problems at school and being marched to the principal nearly everyday did nothing to snap him out of it. The fights, terrible grades and skipped classes added up to him being expelled - not that Donnie cared much. He was more than content to spend his money on drugs, sleeping away the hangovers at a random friend's couch. Things only went downhill once he turned 18. With the state no longer responsible for him, Donnie was packed up - and kicked out into the real world, flat on his ass. With no connections, family, or skills to speak of, Donnie found himself hanging on a thread. As much as Lissie tried to stop him, Donnie was in no position to listen - he found himself falling headfirst into crime, hanging around thugs and gangsters.
Here he is, years later - a breath away from thirty and still living the run-down life he always had.
He was one of his usual nights out when the accident happened. High and drunk off his ass, he insisted on driving himself and Lissie back home, claiming he was okay. Recovering from an arm injury, Lissie had no other choice. It was either that or walking through a crime filled neighbourhood at night. Despite her hesitation, she eventually relented. Donnie drove them off, barely able to keep his eyes on the road.
It was a car accident waiting to happen.
An oncoming truck, Donnie too sluggish to react, Lissie screaming by his side -
and then nothing.
They were both dead in a flash.
Last edited:
LumaThePhoenix
Ten Thousand Club
PLEASE PUT YOUR ROLE HERE!
UMBREON! Lol Umbrakinesis
โ I may not throw the first punch, but I make sure I throw the last one. โ
Full Name: Jacques Bannetto
Nickname: "Jack", "Jack the Ripper/Jacq the Reaper", "Bayonet Bannetto", "Bayonetta Bannetto(by his old drinking buddies as a joke)"
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexuality: He gets it in sometimes(hetero for research purposes lol)
Ethnicity: African-American
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Black dreadlocks
Eyes color: Dark brown
Skin: Brown
Height: 6'4
Weight: 235
Physical Build: muscular
Blood Type: A
Physical Conditions: Headaches from very bright lights
Mental Conditions: Insomnia, Alexithymia
Vice(s): Suspicious of everything, alcoholic
Clothing/style: Generally prefers dark clothing. He's normally either in a suit or a black shirt and jeans.
FACE CLAIM: DK Metcalf
Personality: Jack is the strong, silent type. He prefers to let his actions do the talking. Due to his size, he comes off as intimidating, but deep down....he's still intimidating. He believes in protecting his friends by hurting his foes. Despite the hostile appearance, Jack is more calm than serious, preferring to be at peace as often as possible and is not above joking with those that he's close to. Oddly enough, while his physical appearance tends to draw the attention of the ladies, he rarely takes advantage of this unless it's extremely necessary.
Positive Traits:
Resilient
Resourceful
Perceptive
Reliable
Calm
Negative Traits:
Distant
Violent
Stubborn
Ruthless
Distrusting
Likes: Peace, night/dark places, working out, music
Dislikes: Bright/flashing lights, large crowds, being angry
Habits, quirks: Spends most nights staring at the sky, constantly checking his surroundings
Fears: Losing people that he cares about
**BACKGROUND -**
History: Jack has always been a fan of tranquility. Even as a kid, he avoided being in the spotlight because he claimed that it was too crowded. Even when his peers would praise him, he would just pass the credit to someone else. This can be seen throughout his school life. Good grades? He just had a great teacher. Popular in school? He just minded his own business and people respected him for it. Linebacker of the year in high school? Great coaching. Ultimately, despite having a good chance at turning pro in the NFL, Jack pursued the route of becoming a detective. Being a huge fan of the Scooby-Doo and other mystery solving-themed franchises influenced him to want to become one as well. He was brought in at a young age and did well despite constantly being yelled at for bending the rules. He had gained a few friends, but something sinister was brewing.
One night, a stakeout went awry, causing a violent shootout that resulted in the death of his partner. It's a memory that still haunts him to this day. He would later find out that his partner had learned that the people they were after were secretly working with some of the higher ups in the police force. Feeling betrayed, he decided to avenge his partner by going after both criminals and cops. Once the corrupted cops got word of his intentions, they targeted him, only to fall into his trap when he blew up a warehouse, killing himself and those involved with his partner's death in the process.
UMBREON! Lol Umbrakinesis
โ I may not throw the first punch, but I make sure I throw the last one. โ
Full Name: Jacques Bannetto
Nickname: "Jack", "Jack the Ripper/Jacq the Reaper", "Bayonet Bannetto", "Bayonetta Bannetto(by his old drinking buddies as a joke)"
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexuality: He gets it in sometimes(hetero for research purposes lol)
Ethnicity: African-American
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Black dreadlocks
Eyes color: Dark brown
Skin: Brown
Height: 6'4
Weight: 235
Physical Build: muscular
Blood Type: A
Physical Conditions: Headaches from very bright lights
Mental Conditions: Insomnia, Alexithymia
Vice(s): Suspicious of everything, alcoholic
Clothing/style: Generally prefers dark clothing. He's normally either in a suit or a black shirt and jeans.
FACE CLAIM: DK Metcalf
Personality: Jack is the strong, silent type. He prefers to let his actions do the talking. Due to his size, he comes off as intimidating, but deep down....he's still intimidating. He believes in protecting his friends by hurting his foes. Despite the hostile appearance, Jack is more calm than serious, preferring to be at peace as often as possible and is not above joking with those that he's close to. Oddly enough, while his physical appearance tends to draw the attention of the ladies, he rarely takes advantage of this unless it's extremely necessary.
Positive Traits:
Resilient
Resourceful
Perceptive
Reliable
Calm
Negative Traits:
Distant
Violent
Stubborn
Ruthless
Distrusting
Likes: Peace, night/dark places, working out, music
Dislikes: Bright/flashing lights, large crowds, being angry
Habits, quirks: Spends most nights staring at the sky, constantly checking his surroundings
Fears: Losing people that he cares about
**BACKGROUND -**
History: Jack has always been a fan of tranquility. Even as a kid, he avoided being in the spotlight because he claimed that it was too crowded. Even when his peers would praise him, he would just pass the credit to someone else. This can be seen throughout his school life. Good grades? He just had a great teacher. Popular in school? He just minded his own business and people respected him for it. Linebacker of the year in high school? Great coaching. Ultimately, despite having a good chance at turning pro in the NFL, Jack pursued the route of becoming a detective. Being a huge fan of the Scooby-Doo and other mystery solving-themed franchises influenced him to want to become one as well. He was brought in at a young age and did well despite constantly being yelled at for bending the rules. He had gained a few friends, but something sinister was brewing.
One night, a stakeout went awry, causing a violent shootout that resulted in the death of his partner. It's a memory that still haunts him to this day. He would later find out that his partner had learned that the people they were after were secretly working with some of the higher ups in the police force. Feeling betrayed, he decided to avenge his partner by going after both criminals and cops. Once the corrupted cops got word of his intentions, they targeted him, only to fall into his trap when he blew up a warehouse, killing himself and those involved with his partner's death in the process.
.V1LLAINISM._
๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ ;;
Vasili "Vas" B.
THE EX-CON
28
Male
Bisexual
Sandwich artist @ Subway
Illusion Manipulation
6'4
Black Hair/Brown Eyes
MISC.
IDENTIFICATION
PERSONALITY
BIOGRAPHY
Ra ra Rasputin Russia's Greatest Love Machine
ยฉ pasta
THE ILLUSIONIST
โ Ra Ra Rasputin. โ
Full Name: Vasili "Vas" Barinov
Nickname: Vas
Age: 28
Gender: Cis. male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Ethnicity: Caucasian, Russian descent
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Often shaggy and unkempt, Vas' hair is black in color and lengthier at the top, concealing a pale forehead. Cow-licked in various areas, his locks often give off the illusion of a permanent bedhead.
Eyes color: Varying in color due to the hazel, Vas' eyes often appear a light brown or murky green depending on the lighting.
Skin: Marred with a lifetime's worth of conflict and struggle, his skin seems to tell a story, his story. Tattoos also litter his body.
Height: 6''4
Weight: 190 lbs
Physical Build: Towering and slightly stocky, Vas often appears as more intimidating than he'd like, though his constant smile does well to soften the blow.
Blood Type: O
Physical Conditions: Insomnia, tremors, allergic to lemons
Mental Conditions: ADHD, Night terrors
Vice(s): Distraction, money,
Clothing/style:
FACE CLAIM: this has to be a REAL picture, not art.
Personality: Clownish in personality, Vas is the kind of person who'd make jokes at a funeral. For, having spent majority of his life in the system, Vas' social skills and adherence to social/emotional cues have since boiled down to survival. And so, more street smart than book smart, the ex-con often relies on instinct, similar to that of a neanderthal (oonga doonga) as that's all he's ever come to know. Therefore, more of an acquired taste, Vas has a knack for rubbing people the wrong way with his extreme brevity, immature sense of humor and overall careless take on life. However, for those who stick around, the young man does all he can to protect and care for his friends, so much so that'd he'd be willing to tarnish himself for the sake of others.
Positive Traits: humorous, dependable, honest, lighthearted, good-intentioned, caring
Negative Traits: blunt, oblivious, agitating, doesn't know how to "read the room," bad-tempered, childish
likes: laughing, memes, pulling pranks, street racing, breaking the law, adrenaline rushes
Dislikes: vulnerability, people that cry or complain too much, being called stupid, rich people, Nicholas Cage
Habits, quirks: Often takes it upon himself to "break the silence," tends to pace when he's nervous, completely stares off when bored
Fears: Tight spaces, is extremely claustrophobic and is deeply afraid of being crushed, Nicholas Cage
**BACKGROUND -**
History: The Vory V Zakone. That's what everyone called it. A crime group that dated all the way back from the USSR to now, modern day Russia. And yet, despite the severity of the tightly-knit brotherhood, it was still home to Vas. For, having been blinded by the sense of community and familial devotion (something he'd never quite experienced before), the young Vas had failed to acknowledge just how dangerous his life had become. For, having had too many close encounters with death, Vas had been brainwashed into worshiping the doctrine, into doing whatever the Don wanted, for that was his "father." In fact, it was not until he'd reached the ripe age of 15 that he 'd come to learn just how real this family of his was. He'd learned the hard way. Left behind on a chilly night, Vas watched as his friends scrammed on foot while he stayed pinned to the floor, sirens blaring in the background... He was to serve a life sentence- that is, until he escaped. America had seemed like a good decision at the time, the land of opportunities as they called it. But now he's here. Shit.
โ Ra Ra Rasputin. โ
Full Name: Vasili "Vas" Barinov
Nickname: Vas
Age: 28
Gender: Cis. male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Ethnicity: Caucasian, Russian descent
Nationality: American
THIS WILL BE THEIR APPEARANCE THROUGHOUT THE RP; HOW THEY LOOKED WHEN THEY DIED.
Hair color and style: Often shaggy and unkempt, Vas' hair is black in color and lengthier at the top, concealing a pale forehead. Cow-licked in various areas, his locks often give off the illusion of a permanent bedhead.
Eyes color: Varying in color due to the hazel, Vas' eyes often appear a light brown or murky green depending on the lighting.
Skin: Marred with a lifetime's worth of conflict and struggle, his skin seems to tell a story, his story. Tattoos also litter his body.
Height: 6''4
Weight: 190 lbs
Physical Build: Towering and slightly stocky, Vas often appears as more intimidating than he'd like, though his constant smile does well to soften the blow.
Blood Type: O
Physical Conditions: Insomnia, tremors, allergic to lemons
Mental Conditions: ADHD, Night terrors
Vice(s): Distraction, money,
Clothing/style:
FACE CLAIM: this has to be a REAL picture, not art.
Personality: Clownish in personality, Vas is the kind of person who'd make jokes at a funeral. For, having spent majority of his life in the system, Vas' social skills and adherence to social/emotional cues have since boiled down to survival. And so, more street smart than book smart, the ex-con often relies on instinct, similar to that of a neanderthal (oonga doonga) as that's all he's ever come to know. Therefore, more of an acquired taste, Vas has a knack for rubbing people the wrong way with his extreme brevity, immature sense of humor and overall careless take on life. However, for those who stick around, the young man does all he can to protect and care for his friends, so much so that'd he'd be willing to tarnish himself for the sake of others.
Positive Traits: humorous, dependable, honest, lighthearted, good-intentioned, caring
Negative Traits: blunt, oblivious, agitating, doesn't know how to "read the room," bad-tempered, childish
likes: laughing, memes, pulling pranks, street racing, breaking the law, adrenaline rushes
Dislikes: vulnerability, people that cry or complain too much, being called stupid, rich people, Nicholas Cage
Habits, quirks: Often takes it upon himself to "break the silence," tends to pace when he's nervous, completely stares off when bored
Fears: Tight spaces, is extremely claustrophobic and is deeply afraid of being crushed, Nicholas Cage
**BACKGROUND -**
History: The Vory V Zakone. That's what everyone called it. A crime group that dated all the way back from the USSR to now, modern day Russia. And yet, despite the severity of the tightly-knit brotherhood, it was still home to Vas. For, having been blinded by the sense of community and familial devotion (something he'd never quite experienced before), the young Vas had failed to acknowledge just how dangerous his life had become. For, having had too many close encounters with death, Vas had been brainwashed into worshiping the doctrine, into doing whatever the Don wanted, for that was his "father." In fact, it was not until he'd reached the ripe age of 15 that he 'd come to learn just how real this family of his was. He'd learned the hard way. Left behind on a chilly night, Vas watched as his friends scrammed on foot while he stayed pinned to the floor, sirens blaring in the background... He was to serve a life sentence- that is, until he escaped. America had seemed like a good decision at the time, the land of opportunities as they called it. But now he's here. Shit.
The Blue Adept
bleh
HARPER SINCLAIR
Harps
Pansexual
Male
29 years old
WELL THAT HURT
PERSONALITY
BIOGRAPHY
INFO
ETC
ยฉ pasta
Telekinesis
โ Never thought I'd end up like this, if I'm being honest. โ
Full Name: Harper Sinclair
Nickname: Harps
Age: 29
Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Pansexual
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: British
Hair color and style: A light mousy brown, often swept to the side in some way. Cropped short with some wavy fringe on the front- looks like he tries to keep up with it but it just never works.
Eyes color: Light blue
Skin: Pale, sickly looking.
Height: 5'9
Weight: 120 lbs
Physical Build: Lean, lacking muscle mass.
Blood Type: B+
Physical Conditions: Overall sickly, insomnia, poor eyesight.
Mental Conditions: OCD
Vice(s): Work, alcohol, caffeine
Clothing/style: Dark academia
FACE CLAIM: Clement Chabernaud
Personality:
Harper is the kind of guy you either find endearing as hell, or hate with a burning passion. He's confident, acts like he knows what he's talking about even when he only sometimes does, and loves it when people think he's charming. Sure, maybe more of it is a cover-up these days for his ever-increasing faults, but that's something he keeps from even the most stubborn prying gazes. If you like guys that never shut up, then he's your man.
Really, as annoying as he can come across, it all boils down to his almost puppy-like need to be around others all the time, as if he fears they'll disappear when he turns his head away. Truly, this man just cannot be alone with his thoughts for longer than five minutes. He's great for bouncing ideas off of, and will always, always tell you what he thinks. On the other hand, he's a great problem solver, and incredibly smart even despite when his ego trips him up. He knows exactly when he hits someone's breaking point, but doesn't know to stop or keep you from liking him less.
Positive Traits: Observant, Charismatic, Earnest, Hardworking
Negative Traits: Impulsive, Self Destructive, Obsessive, Erratic
Likes: Coffee with too much sugar, birds, wool socks, leather-bound books, the smell of lavender
Dislikes: Confronting his own personal issues, admitting he's wrong, cigarette smoke, rubix cubes, rainy days
Habits, quirks: Always messes with his hands when he's anxious, paces around way too much. Laughs at innappropriate times.
Fears: Dying alone, drowning, losing his memory, failure.
Background:
As a child, Harper had been involved in the Sinclair Robotics Company from day one. With a doctor for a mother and an engineer for a father, it was practically fate for him to fall in their footsteps somewhere. Surrounded by a wealth of knowledge, Harper spent most of his time growing up with his nose buried in a book trying to absorb as much information as possible. Some of it was curiosity, the rest to impress his parents- the line grew thin quickly until he too was obsessed with his work.
Leading the next generation of robotic prosthetic technology, one that he hoped could benefit the masses, Harper took pride in his accomplishments. It wasn't until rival projects cropped up did Harper really start to feel the pressure, and especially so when his life was in danger. After all, the business wasn't so clean-cut as it seemed on the outside, and people were climbing all over each other trying to patent the next great thing, whether it was for anyone's benefit or not other than their own.
It wasn't too hard to sabotage him, it seemed. Poison was a nasty thing. Sure, it hurt, but watching his schematics stolen as he fell to the ground hurt worse. He spent so long in a coma he wasn't even sure when his life ended and death began. He finds himself still caught in the blurred line.
โ Never thought I'd end up like this, if I'm being honest. โ
Full Name: Harper Sinclair
Nickname: Harps
Age: 29
Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Pansexual
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: British
Hair color and style: A light mousy brown, often swept to the side in some way. Cropped short with some wavy fringe on the front- looks like he tries to keep up with it but it just never works.
Eyes color: Light blue
Skin: Pale, sickly looking.
Height: 5'9
Weight: 120 lbs
Physical Build: Lean, lacking muscle mass.
Blood Type: B+
Physical Conditions: Overall sickly, insomnia, poor eyesight.
Mental Conditions: OCD
Vice(s): Work, alcohol, caffeine
Clothing/style: Dark academia
FACE CLAIM: Clement Chabernaud
Personality:
Harper is the kind of guy you either find endearing as hell, or hate with a burning passion. He's confident, acts like he knows what he's talking about even when he only sometimes does, and loves it when people think he's charming. Sure, maybe more of it is a cover-up these days for his ever-increasing faults, but that's something he keeps from even the most stubborn prying gazes. If you like guys that never shut up, then he's your man.
Really, as annoying as he can come across, it all boils down to his almost puppy-like need to be around others all the time, as if he fears they'll disappear when he turns his head away. Truly, this man just cannot be alone with his thoughts for longer than five minutes. He's great for bouncing ideas off of, and will always, always tell you what he thinks. On the other hand, he's a great problem solver, and incredibly smart even despite when his ego trips him up. He knows exactly when he hits someone's breaking point, but doesn't know to stop or keep you from liking him less.
Positive Traits: Observant, Charismatic, Earnest, Hardworking
Negative Traits: Impulsive, Self Destructive, Obsessive, Erratic
Likes: Coffee with too much sugar, birds, wool socks, leather-bound books, the smell of lavender
Dislikes: Confronting his own personal issues, admitting he's wrong, cigarette smoke, rubix cubes, rainy days
Habits, quirks: Always messes with his hands when he's anxious, paces around way too much. Laughs at innappropriate times.
Fears: Dying alone, drowning, losing his memory, failure.
Background:
As a child, Harper had been involved in the Sinclair Robotics Company from day one. With a doctor for a mother and an engineer for a father, it was practically fate for him to fall in their footsteps somewhere. Surrounded by a wealth of knowledge, Harper spent most of his time growing up with his nose buried in a book trying to absorb as much information as possible. Some of it was curiosity, the rest to impress his parents- the line grew thin quickly until he too was obsessed with his work.
Leading the next generation of robotic prosthetic technology, one that he hoped could benefit the masses, Harper took pride in his accomplishments. It wasn't until rival projects cropped up did Harper really start to feel the pressure, and especially so when his life was in danger. After all, the business wasn't so clean-cut as it seemed on the outside, and people were climbing all over each other trying to patent the next great thing, whether it was for anyone's benefit or not other than their own.
It wasn't too hard to sabotage him, it seemed. Poison was a nasty thing. Sure, it hurt, but watching his schematics stolen as he fell to the ground hurt worse. He spent so long in a coma he wasn't even sure when his life ended and death began. He finds himself still caught in the blurred line.
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