• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern THE BRAT PACK - characters.

demonology

demonology

𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚𝒕𝒉.
img_1108-jpeg.1140444


⊹₊ ⋆ Just, you know, call me when you get home?​

This is the CS thread for Brat Pack. Since this is meant to be a fun, light-hearted rp, you do not have to make a full sheet. Instead, you're welcome to write a little summary, in-character blurb from their perspective, bullet points, etc. Just be sure to include somewhere:
— Name
— Age
— Role (the roles given are completely optional and don't have to be interepreted exactly. However, whether you're making a complete OC or using the roles as a starting point, please write down a role "title.")
— Sexuality + Pronouns
— Visage (fc or description)
— Which apartment do they live in: 1222 Casmere or 1798 Holbrook?
— Why Are They In The City?
— Potential Plot Points (optional; if you have any ideas related to your character, the world, etc. I'd love to hear them!)


APPLICATIONS CLOSE APRIL 16th!​
 
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JUDI
















the punk || ethel cain










♡coded by uxie♡






╰┈➤ There's not much to say anymore... it's all gone to shit.

— NAME: Judi
— AGE: twenty-three
— ROLE: the punk
— SEXUALITY: bisexual; masc-lean but not necessarily men; would maybe be lesbian by some folks' standards, but she's dated trans men and the occasional cis guy so bisexual is the best term.
— PRONOUNS: she/her; transfemme, identifies with the butch label to some degree
— APARTMENT: 1222 Casmere Ave.

VISAGE: 6'0''. Often described by others as boney and bird-like. Chestnut, straight hair that stops at her mid-back. Pale skin with pink undertones. Has no piercings, but is covered in a bunch of tattoos she got for free from friends and acquaintances that were tattoo apprentices or simply were feeling charitable. The only tattoo she's ever paid for is her Three of Swords tattoo on the back of her neck. Judi has no "typical" outfit and is pretty consistent in switching things up. However, a classic from her teenage years that she can never give up is a pair of cargo shorts and one of her innumerable band tee. Played by ETHEL CAIN/HAYDEN ANHEDONIA

SCENT: a mix of cigarette smoke, weed, and sandalwood. Occasionally, she smells like rosewater perfume.

STYLE: little-shirt, big-pants combo ALWAYS; baggy sweaters; acid-wash denim worn to hell with patches on the ass; honestly, patches on anything and everything; crop tops; lingerie and nightgowns worn as dresses; her brother's concert tees; denim jacket. CLOSET.
PERSONA.
  • forms deep attachments with people rather quickly; a daydreamer who gets quickly caught up in the fantasy and radical potential of a new person.
  • flighty, anxious-avoidant, terrified of commitment but also craves it desperately from other people
  • Eventually grew tired of the song and dance of exposing oneself — of becoming intimate — so now she wears everything on her sleeve so as to better hide in plain sight what she is truly ashamed of. Think extroversion as a subconscious way of keeping people at arm's length but also to avoid having to be by yourself.
  • wants people to write ballads about her and make art in her honor; would also laugh in your face and pretend to throw up if you ever asked to do as such
  • incredibly kind; charitable feels like the wrong word because she's very much a person involved in mutual aid and that's not the way she understands her community work. Uplifting, your personal hypeman, incredibly loyal often without due cause.
  • struggles with being overly critical; often self-sabotages potential connections because of this trait. She also almost never voices what's wrong — she'll just drop your ass.
  • a wandering soul, literally and metaphorically; her feelings are fickle and ever-changing. She feels lost, and she's always coming up with a new thing that will fix the hole inside her.
HISTORY.

tw: brief mention of suicide, transphobia, addiction, child-abuse
  • born in Silver Springs, Michigan in the Sunny Trails Trailer Park. Her mother left when she was a toddler, and for the rest of Judi's childhood, it would be her, her older brother Joey, and her father. There is no better way to say this — she grew up acutely white trash.
  • her father was a machinist at a die-cutting parts manufacturer along with being an alcoholic. Primarily, Judi suffered from neglect that Joey, who's ten years older, stepped in to mitigate. Didn't prevent the worst of her father's behavior from impacting her, especially as she became more aware of her identity.
  • Came out when she was 15 and started to socially transition; her family was not accepting, including her brother and her best friend (who would turn out to be trans as well). This shocked Judi as she knew her brother was closeted gay and her best friend Eddie was clearly similar to her. She develops a close relationship with a new girl in town, someone from Detroit.
  • Leaves home at 17 once her girlfriend returns to the city and Joey commits suicide. She's been a leaf on the wind since, going from city to city and starting HRT when she was 19/20.
  • WHERE IS SHE NOW?: Rare for Judi to stay in one place for more than a year or two. However, she's one of the few people who can move to a completely new place and make a whole group of friends and completely integrate herself into the local scene in a matter of a few months. She likes to joke that she has friends across all major metropolitan cities in the USA.
  • WHY DID SHE COME TO DETROIT? Despite her travels, Judi has never lived in Detroit. She's been around for about a year, and it is likely that she will stay here longer than she's anticipated. She enjoys the friends she's made, the job she has working as a machinist (currently trying to organize a union, which requires her to stick around), and she's currently taking night classes to get her GED. Judi has become a staple of the hardcore scene in the Detroit/Hamtramck area.

EXTRAS:
⋆ i know i made her "the punk" but i would say she is not tied down to labels in any regard, really. She listens to all types of music and tends to have a fluid sense of fashion. HOWEVER, I would say she's the "punk" because of how involved she is in the scene and the community at large.
⋆ works a bunch of odd jobs to make ends meet a lot of the time; if you have a job for her, let her know!
⋆ frequenter of the movie theater downstairs; Mrs. B gives her (and her roomies) free food a lot of the time)
⋆ she is literally always doing something, going somewhere, or just coming back. You would be shocked to find out she still manages to get a full seven hours of sleep
⋆ a beer person
⋆ definitely had her drugged out phase and does still return to it sometimes
⋆ rarely talks about her past lives, but yet you get a real good sense of who she is nonetheless
⋆ likes kids but is actually very bad with them. Spoils them, lets them do whatever, etc.
⋆ doesn't exactly have a career in mind or even really thinking about her future. Her mentality is like "I didn't think I would get this far... now what?" It is only in the past few months she's thought about planting roots.
⋆ spur of the moment; down to do almost anything at any given moment; will be the person that drives with you to Ohio at 2 in the morning for Waffle House
⋆ she has a surprisingly powerful singing voice and maybe even can do death-growling really well; really into horror punk and 70s disco; would love for her to be in a band? could see her as the occasional vocalist and the manager lmao.
⋆ moonlights as a bartender, volunteers at Affirmations, DJs on the radio occasionally and weekly at a bar, hooks friends up with gigs if asked — if you can't find her, you're better off just waiting until she comes home or asking one of the many people that know her name where she is lmao
 
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The Artist
— basics
full name
Jolanda Delikouras
alias
Jo, Jolly
age
twenty-two
gender
female
sexuality
lesbian
— visage
height
175 cm / 5'8 ft
build
slim with some muscles
eyes
dark brown
hair
black, curly
face claim
Vasiliki Halastaras
cheerful
humorous
sociable
immature
restless
daredevil
— description

Summary Jolanda, Jo, is a 22-year-old creative studies student with a passion for music - she dreams about fame but as a back up plan she's aiming teaching music to either elementary or high schoolers in the future. Amidst her studies, she babysits but is looking for a second part time job (gotta pay her studies somehow). She plays drums, which fits her personality perfectly, but she also plays bass, guitar and piano and sings remotely well. Drums are her lover (little cheesy, yes) but she has accepted that she has better luck concuring the music world with guitar and her voice. She is social and outgoing, someone who doesn’t stay entertained when left alone. Jolanda is often restless and constantly drumming against different surfaces or simply her own body, thigh etc.

She is prone to act on her impulses and is easily influenced to do stupid shit. "Wouldn't it be funny if someone..." or "Don't you dare" both are good reasons to do basically anything. During her age she has for example stolen from a teacher, sold feet pics and eaten dog food just for similar comments. Jo has always been a class clown sort of persona, being happy when others are happy. She doesn't mind being laughed at and has sometimes quite self-deprecating humor... Or flirty jokes. Or stupid puns - she is a woman of humor, shitty or not.

Jo was born to greek immigrant parents. Her parents weren't abusive or anything, but distant and perhaps a little neclegting. In their family it wasn't a thing to kiss or hug which sometimes felt little cold to Jo, especially when she visited friends and saw other kind of family dynamics. However, Jo spent her summers at her grandma in Nauplio, Greece. Her grandma was a sweet but firm old lady, she baked the best baklava she fed to the children of their neighborhood - she was pretty much like everyone's grandma. Many children hung out at her place and Jo had always playmates. Once she became older, she started to not only hang out with other children but take care and keep an eye on the younger ones. It's no wonder she is good with children and does baby sitting as a part time job to pay for her studies.

Her parents and grandma helps her financially as much as they can but it's not quite enough. However, as bad as it sounds, the grandma has gotten older and in worse condition... That Jo has started to wonder if she'll pass away soon and give her any inheritance. She feels extremely guilty about this thought. She tries to spend as much time with grandma as she can, often having video calls. Jo is not financially too great, so she has not been able to visit grandma that often. Instead she has been focusing on her studies (if not coming to every lesson and returning essays in too late or not at all counts as studying) and her new life in Detroit.

Likes ✔
rock • the color orange • tattoos • gym • flannel shirts

Dislikes ✖
reading • carrots • rain • the color magenta • ducks

Extra
• Lactose intolerant but loves milkshakes and is willing to suffer
• Can play four different instruments (drums, guitar, piano, bass)
• Has a decent singing voice, more sweet and high pitched that one would assume
• Somehow ends up killing every plant she's ever gotten
• Likes rock bands, Ramones, Red Hot Chli Pepper, Stiff Little Fingers and Misfits being her favorites
• Click for pinterest board > Pinterest board
reveriee ©
 
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She Works Hard For The Money



Donna Summer












the independent















R

equisite.










name


Desiree A. Langston







a.k.a.


Desi







age


Twenty-four







D.O.B


October 15th







Sexuality


Bisexual







Role


The independent







Apartment


1798 Holbrook












A

ppearance.










eyes.


brown







hair.


dark brown shoulder length







height


5'5"







weight.


135lbs, hourglass figure.







distinguished features.


pierced ears(lobes and cartilages), tramp stamp tattoo (gotten while drunk)







style.


answer













p

syche.





"Hey you're kinda friends with Desiree...what's she like?"

"Hmm...where to begin..."

A definition for self-driven would display her name in bold letters. The go-getter and kind of person who carves their own path without guidance or approval from others. At a young age, instinct to survive has groomed Desiree into the person that brings the most security and comfort. She's confident in her decisions and values self-reliance, often trusting her instincts over external advice from others.

She’s the kind of person who doesn’t ask for help often, not because she’s stubborn, but because she’s spent years learning how to rely on herself. You can describe her as the one who always seems to have it together, but few realize the depth of emotion she carries beneath her composed surface. It’s a shield she’s built through experience, and those who take the time to understand her know how fiercely loyal and deeply thoughtful she truly is. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does speak, her words carry weight. Desiree is a trustworthy individual, she is strong-willed and doesn't falter when push comes to shove. Her independence is the core of her strength.









h

istory






Desiree grew up in a small, working-class town where opportunities were scarce and expectations even scarcer. Her father walked out when she was eight, and her mother—once a vibrant woman—slowly unraveled under the weight of two jobs and unaddressed grief. By the time Desiree turned thirteen, she was practically raising herself, juggling school, cooking meals, and helping take care of her younger brother.


There was no safety net. If something broke, she fixed it. If bills piled up, she found ways to stretch groceries or skipped meals herself. She learned to lie with a smile, to mask her exhaustion and fear with wit and stubbornness. School became both a burden and a refuge—she was smart, but survival always came first.


When her mother’s health deteriorated further due to untreated illness and chronic stress, Desiree had no choice but to step up fully. At sixteen, she was working evenings at a diner, tutoring on the side, and still trying to keep her grades up. The house had a rotary phone, a busted heater, and a TV with rabbit ears. Friends were few—most of her classmates were too busy trying to survive their own storms to notice the quiet girl who always wore the same jacket. Still, Desiree held it together, listening to cassette tapes from Whitney Houston to The Cure, finding solace in music and scribbled poetry on the backs of diner napkins. College was a distant dream—but she clung to it, not because she believed in happy endings, but because she refused to repeat the cycle.


By the time she was legally an adult, Desiree had already lived a lifetime. She moved out, scraped together what she could to stay afloat, and never looked back. Trust doesn’t come easy for her, and asking for help feels like failure—but her fierce independence is also her strength. She’s determined to build a future no one can take from her.

Extra---
* Her favorite drink is Fanta Orange Soda, it was a reward for herself when she had extra money
*Recently bought a 1984 Jeep Cherokee and named her Regina---Gigi for short
* In order to pay for college, Desiree took up a waitress job at a strip club before becoming a stripper due to how well the pay was.
*Her and her brother have a tradition to meet up for milkshakes every other Friday.
*Desiree is a fashion girlie and is always up on the latest fashion trends. She didn't have money for trendy clothes growing up, so she cuts, bleaches, and stitches up her old stuff to make it look cooler. Think cut-off denim jackets, safety pins as accessories, and a band tee that's seen better days but she refuses to throw away.
*Despite her tough exterior, she religiously watches General Hospital. She’s totally invested in the love triangles and has strong opinions about who belongs with who.
*She acts like love is dumb and messy—but she keeps a shoebox of old notes, movie ticket stubs, and that one pressed flower from a summer night three years ago. She’ll say “flowers are a waste of money” but secretly presses them into her journals. She loves slow dances in the kitchen, forehead kisses, and unexpected “you’re safe with me” moments.
*She drinks her coffee strong, black, and way too hot—says it “builds character.” She also lowkey judges people who put too much sugar in theirs (it comes to a point honestly)
*Desiree makes mixtapes for everything.
*She’s not great at opening up in the daylight—but sit with her on a rooftop at midnight with the stars out, and she MIGHT tell you about her fears, her dreams, and that time she almost ran away to join Prince as a groupie.









g

allery.
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Oliver Crowe
— 24
— Burnout
— she/her, that's a lesbian if I've ever seen one
— Tall, broad-shouldered, with a tan-brown skin tone and dark, short hair. Her nose is crooked from what she claims was a brawl, but it’s actually from knocking her face into the pavement after tripping on a curb- not that she's ever revealed that. None of her clothes ever seem to be new.
— 1222 Casmere Ave.

Oliver's an apprentice auto-mechanic and part-time dealer, named for a grandpa her pops was dead-set on naming his kid after, no matter who or what they turned out to be. It was the first true indicator that she was destined for the familial cycle of the same dead-end jobs, same house, same shit as always; down-on-their-luck, never moving up, only ever moving down if they get to shift at all. Her father wasn't especially terrible, but he was neither especially kind- his frustrations and general dissatisfaction with his life were made clear in how he treated his children.

Still- Oliver was stubborn enough to have the mind to leave. Staying back home in her run-down lakeside town terrified her; so, she left all on her own for Detroit just to get away with nary a plan. And if she couldn't pull it off? Well, at least she'd be destitute somewhere new and fresh instead of destitute in the same fucking place.

She made it, though- through vaguely-sketchy means, but she did. Got herself a little operation and an apartment that doesn't ask questions. Her time does mean she's streetwise, though; knows shit about this place that other people either don't notice or ignore, All the details, the whys, hows, whens and wheres. Oliver's seen nearly everything about this town that everyone else doesn't want to, and tends to think most others are soft, without the wherewithal and resilience to take it- unlike her.

She can read people pretty well, but it’s the filter through her personality that makes her distinctly hard to talk to. She can tell pretty easily who likes her and who doesn't.

Oliver's ignored going to college just like the rest of her family has, barely made it out of high school, and frankly- is a real shithead a lot of the time. Getting into fights, abrasive, drinks too much, smokes too much, says all the wrong things without even trying a lot of the time, would be a written-up felon over theft and property damage if she weren't so damn good at getting away with it. Someone like her does have her merits among people, though; Oliver's assertive enough on a "take no shit" mentality that extends to anyone she makes acquaintance or shacks up with- they shouldn't take shit from anyone either, and if they won't enforce it, then Oliver will. Still, she's down for just about anything; it's not like she's super awful to hang out with- just a little intense.

Despite being a total knucklehead- crass, blunt, etc.- if there’s ever a bigger fish to fry, Oliver will pull through when someone needs defending. She’s the one with the bad reputation, so confrontation is expected of her, and she knows it- she usually uses this to ensure whoever‘s getting messed with stays blameless. Now, don't try and force her to admit that she likes hanging around the other people in the apartment- but her real feelings show through in action, even if she's reluctant to say it aloud. Oliver would like to connect with people, as wary as she is to admit it- she's a bit of a tough nut to crack, but not for lack of trying.

Oliver's got wits, and she's got instinct- but she seems hellbent on applying it in all the wrong places.

– Her laugh is loud, and it usually shakes her whole body.
– She gnaws on the inside of her cheek when she's nervous.
– She tends to speak very animatedly with a lot of movement in the hands.
– Don't touch her car. Scratch the paint- you're dead. She loves that thing more than she loves herself.
– Tends to feed stray cats- don't tell anybody. They know she's a food source, and she'll leave her window open and let them sort of just wander in-and-out of her room, if they're inclined.
– Rock band enthusiast; has a decent set of vinyls.
– Very skilled at procrastinating most responsibilities 'til the absolute last second. If it ain't fun, it simply doesn't grab her.
– The type of gal who always “knows a guy who knows a guy”; has a plethora of contacts who can take care of almost anything you need done.



 
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jamie monroe.
















the romantic




# liv tyler










♡coded by uxie♡





jamie monroe.
the romantic.

1f45d0b79027e4fc62a1b4d91eb3cb6d.gif




  • name. jamie monroe

    age. 21

    role. the romantic.

    sexuality / pronouns. heterosexual | she/her.

    visage. jamie has dark brown hair and blue eyes. she stands at 5 feet 6 inches and has a slim frame. her faceclaim is liv tyler.

    apartment. 1798 holbrook.




coded by BELIAL.​
 
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Messenger
Username:
JackDaniels
Password:
partyanimal

Status: Online
coded by kaninchen




Silly little temporary cs I edited on my phone as a placeholder for now
IMG_9633.png
​
 
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santiago rosenbloom
















the outcast or




the burnout










♡coded by uxie♡




NAME: Santiago Rosenbloom; doesn’t mind being called Rose as a nickname, likes being called by nicknames rather then his full name.
AGE: 25 years old
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ROLE: The Burnout or Outcast (can fit either role tbh)
APARTMENT: 1222 Casmere Ave

APPEARANCE: tba
SCENT: weed, lilies, vanilla & lavender.
STYLE:

PERSONA:

HISTORY:
tw for child abuse/neglect, drug use & prostitution .

  • grew up with both parents, both were in and out of jail for most of his childhood. in order to process his trauma, rose has forgotten how his parents look. they choice to spend most of their time either stealing, finding their next hit or gambling what little money they had.
  • lived in GreenWorld Motel in Saginaw, Michigan for most of his childhood. in order to stay there when they had no money, his mother would have sex with the owner of the motel. they would stick rose in the bathroom whenever the owner came over, but they were never quite about it.
  • has blacked out alot of his childhood, only certain things he remembers and most weren’t so good but some weren’t so bad either; remembers when his parents would take him to mcdonald’s and play, remembers getting ice cream from dollar tree once a month with his dad.
  • would go days without actual food at home, the only place he felt safe was at school. had an unhealthy attachment to his teachers as they were the only ones that cared about him.
  • when he was 9 cps was called because a gym teacher saw belt welts all over his back; father was blinded by drug induced psychosis and beat him. begged his son for forgiveness, but you know how that always go.
  • taken from his parents at 12 and placed into foster care after being sent to the hospital for dehydration and starvation, had passed out in school and hit his head. should have been taken years ago, but cps could no longer ignore santiago anymore.

EXTRAS:
  • smokes weed to numb himself of how he’s actually feeling, it’s the only way he can function without having a straight up panic attack everyday. knows he can’t stop, has come to live with this fact. can function just fine, a tad slower then the average person but can do just about anything. has a strong tolerance.
  • well known around the weed & party communities, sells his stuff almost constantly but gives it free to people that he likes. charges more to those that piss him off.
  • not super into the party scene, prefers to stay home and rot in his bed.
  • kinda a loser, kinda the life of the party. kinda sad, kinda upbeat. he has highs and his lows, rose has some form of undiagnosed mental illness.
  • loves animals, takes care of any injured any be finds on the street (bird, squirrel, cat, etc.) fosters pets all the time, prefers little critters over the big ones.
  • currently fosters a white, little dog named princess, a fat tabby named lord cheddarington (cheddar for short)
  • known for always having snacks in his backpack
  • isn’t career ambition, just kinda works in order to pay his bills and pets. deep down wants to work within the animal world, but feels he isn’t smart enough for that. so he just works at the two pet stores that are within this city.
  • always volunteering at the animal shelter
  • makes the best food? wether it’s from the weed or just pure talent, he comes up with some pretty wack ideas.
  • once tried cocaine at a party, never again did he do that.
  • kinda in the background, doesn’t go out of his way to stand out.
  • lonely but panics at the idea of trying to make friends, thinks people will find him to weird to be friends with.
  • has a photographic memory but doesn’t realize that he does. thinks he just has a knack at remembering things.
  • barely scrapes by, but always doing odd jobs in order to keep his bills paid.
 
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SULLY | Suleiman Saeed
















the eldest




lakeith stanfield










♡coded by uxie♡



 
Melrose
;; minnie
NAME — clementine “minnie” melrose
AGE — twenty-two
ROLE — the athlete
SEXUALITY + PRONOUNS — pansexual; she/her
APARTMENT — 1222 casmere ave.

VISAGE — standing at 5’8”, minnie sports a long and lithe build—ideal for someone who spends most of her days running across a green. as the center midfielder on wayne state’s women’s soccer team, acting in both offensive and defensive positions, stamina is just as important as speed, and the young woman has worked hard to build up each throughout the years. her above-average height certainly doesn’t hurt, either; given the confidence with which she plays, minnie almost seems to tower over the opponent—a force to be reckoned with.

her big, brown eyes compliment her olive-toned skin, tanned from extensive time spent outdoors. minnie’s mother has always felt as though her daughter was too pretty to waste her life on sports—an ideal she’d tried to enforce upon her in childhood, only to give up when minnie reached a stubborn adolescence. she isn’t wrong that minnie boasts a natural attractiveness, but, more often than not, the only thing coating her full lips is a layer of peach-flavored chapstick, and her face’s sole decoration is the one adorning it since birth: the beauty mark dotting her cheekbone, just below her left eye.

aesthetically-speaking, minnie’s appearance is a direct reflection of her lifestyle—the cool, lazy way in which she carries herself one of somebody who’s allowed too much of her time to pass in the company of boys; her short, haphazardly-chopped shag of dark hair done so more because it’s less to deal with than it is due to looks; and the notable lack of dresses and skirts in her closet a result of her tomboyish habits. this, of course, isn’t to say that she is entirely unfeminine—she enjoys makeup on some occasions, as well as dainty jewelry and the color pink—but she’s found that there’s more comfort in casual convenience than there is in forcing herself into the mold of how a young woman “should” dress and behave.
FACE CLAIM — shannyn sossamon

POS. TRAITS — ambitious - hard-working to a near-fault, minnie knows her strengths and plays to them. while she may not have a plan carved into stone for what her future should look like, she’s never been one to approach tasks half-heartedly; whatever the days before her hold, she’s putting in the effort now to ensure some sort of success for her tomorrow. // extroverted - her team-oriented way of thinking seeps into how she views all of her relationships; not one to care for solitude, minnie searches for friends in each social setting she finds herself in, whether in the form of people she already knows or those she’d like to. her magnetic, easygoing demeanor gives her a natural advantage in groups—she’s yet to encounter someone she couldn’t comfortably converse with in some sense. // humorous - not one for letting tension linger for long periods of time, minnie does her best to seek out the silver lining, easing problems before they can properly start with a smile and a well-timed joke. though not wholly pacifistic, she falls somewhere close—any confrontation off the field is an unwelcome intrusion in her eyes, something she hopes to avoid whenever possible.
NEG. TRAITS — indecisive - see also: chronic procrastinator. though claiming to be someone that works best under the pressure of a swiftly-approaching deadline, minnie has been known to allow her fickle opinions to get the best of her. she has this attribute to thank for her spot at 1222 casmere ave., as well as her ever-changing major—despite being in her fourth year at wayne state, her major has changed twice. the only thing that the woman is sure of is her love for soccer. // rambunctious - while having boundless energy isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s easier to stomach in smaller doses. minnie knows that she’s not everyone’s cup of tea—her loud and outgoing nature can be overwhelming at times, especially when running off the high of a won game and one too many caffeinated drinks, so she tries to compensate by keeping herself busy. // scatterbrained - while the things that strike her interest are greeted with a laser-like focus, those that don’t aren’t so fortunate. one too many assignments have been swept under the rug, abandoned when a “better” use of her time presented itself. it’s a hard habit to break, and minnie’s not planning on doing so anytime soon.

HISTORY — born and raised in a small, new hampshire town, minnie came to hamtramck with nothing but a soccer scholarship and a dream, yet, college life wasn’t all that it’d promised to be. while the community of like-minded athletes was a breath of fresh air—a stark contrast to parents who’d always tried to dissuade her career path—the cons outweighed the pros, especially when it came to living on campus.

the dorms were cramped, two beds crammed uncomfortably close in a glorified closet. each floor was given only one communal bathroom to share amongst themselves, and with how often minnie found herself needing to shower, she was among the least popular on her hall. her roommate’s schedule seemed to operate directly opposite to her own—out all night only to sleep through most of her classes—and with such close quarters, the resentment for each other only grew with each day that passed of unintentionally waking each other up at odd hours.

the deadline for housing applications sliding out of minnie’s grasp at the end of freshman year may have been a result of her incessant procrastination, it was no accident.

the apartment at casmere avenue was hardly ideal either, but her grandmother’s offer was hard to resist—especially considering how much of a pseudo-mother the woman had always been to minnie, supporting her when no one else would—and it wasn’t as if minnie had a list of backup ideas to choose from. with its proximity to the polish theater, the streets bustled at all hours of the day, and minnie lied awake sometimes, listening to the unrecognizable words floating through the building’s thin walls. it held a certain charm, however—a warmth that the white-washed walls of wayne state had no room to house—and the woman couldn’t help but make space for it in her heart.

it was a breath of fresh air, even if her flatmates were a little odd. at least she had her own room.

EXTRA INFO —
→ minnie is in and out of the apartment at strange times—early, for runs in the morning before class, and late, after practice in the evenings.
→ despite her laidback disposition, she has a rather rigid schedule she sticks to during the week, for both discipline and time management’s sake.
→ she’s in danger of losing her scholarship at least once a year because of how lazy she gets with classwork; somehow, she manages to pull herself out of the hole every time, but just by the skin of her teeth.
→ has majored in physical education, sports marketing, and—currently—sports medicine, though another switch is brewing on the horizon.
→ her social butterfly tendencies make minnie more prone to spending time in the common rooms as opposed to her bedroom.
→ the citrus shampoo in the bathroom is hers, but she’ll let anyone borrow it if they ask.
→ not the most punctual person; almost always in a hurry to leave the house because she’s expected elsewhere.
→ never steps out of the apartment without her headphones and walkman—her favorite song is and she was by talking heads.
→ has her keys on a carabiner attached to her duffel bag out of necessity to keep them close to her at all times; she has a tendency to lose things and has gone through two copies of the apartment key already.
coded by reveriee.
 
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code by opaline
Archie Miller
the career person
basics
full name —
Archibald F. Miller (don't ask what the F stands for)
nickname —
Archie (answers to it more than his full name)
age —
22
date of birth —
October 13th
gender —
male
pronouns —
he/him
sexuality —
"heterosexual" in gigantic air quotes
role —
the career-person
apartment —
1786 Holbrook Ave

appearance

description —
the perfect all-american ken doll would probably be the most accurate description of Archie. Standing at a staggering 6'4" no one would blame you if you were intimidated by his overwhelming stature and size that is until you reached his face and realized he's probably the most harmless person you could ever meet. With his boyish features and soft hazel eyes that seem to be almost comtrast from his build making him seem as if he's younger than what he actually is.

faceclaim —
Jared Padalecki

persona
It's often said that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but when it comes to Archie what you see is very much what you're getting.

Honest and earnest almost to a fault Archie is your stereotypical all american boy next door that mothers can't help but dot on and fathers begrudgingly extend curfew beyond the usual time for, not that he'd stay out late enough to make someone miss curfew.

Both parts naive and optimistic he trusts people implicitly believing in the innate goodness in people whether they even see it in themselves and while that is good it can also make him come across as a bit of a pushover who's kindness can be taken advantage of.

Due to carrying the expectations of others for a large portion of his life Archie does have the tendency to be easily influenced by peer pressure and wanting to please everyone with very little regard for himself. Because of this he may come across to many as indecisive or fickle when it's simply his lack of being able to make a choice that satisfies everyone that holds him back.

background
tw: infertility mentioned (it's just mentioned once I know that kind of thing bothers people)

Since he could remember Archie had knew what he wanted to be when he got older... partially because that choice had been made for him long before he was even born.

The first and only child of Roxanne Pierre and Kenneth Davis. Kenneth, was enjoying a sucessful freshman campaign at the university of Illinois as the star wide receiver, had met roxanne, a criminal law major, at a homecoming party where one thing led to another and after five months of back and forth they agreed that taking a sabbatical from college was the right thing to do for both of them to properly raise a child. That they would sacrifice for the sake of their child.

It sounded good on paper until the time came and neither could go through with it. They were practically strangers after all and shouldn't be asked to throw their futures away for one mistake. They believed it was the right choice to make for everyone and within the week after his birth Archie had already found a new home; with a particularly well off couple that lived on the outskirts of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho who had trouble having kids of their own.

The match seemed perfect and for the most part it was. Archie grew up surrounded by the best tutors and teachers money could buy and with well defined expectations to do what was expected of him as the future of his family.

After all his adopted parents were well known donors of various political campaigns around the state so it wouldn't be too out of the question if their own son eventually ran for an office in the future, Right?

From early adolescence to young adulthood every choice and decision Archie made was meticulously planned from what sports he played to what schools he would attend to what friends he'd have. All with the promise that it was for his future and the betterment of the family as a whole. He found it difficult not to agree... as if he had a choice.

It was until one of his tutors informed him that he had decided to take up tenure at a college in Michigan did Archie's prospects seem to be on the verge of change. He had liked this tutor and after months of immense groveling was he allowed to follow with the promise that it would not effect his future in any capacity. So course within a month of moving he had traded one form of peer pressure for another.

Having been mostly sheltered all his life, Hamtramck was a sort of a culture shock for Archie. Suddenly he was surrounded by the elements his parents warned him not to mix and though he'd never admit it to them he was ok with that.

misc.

relationships —
later

headcanons —
hates the color yellow

Rubs gus fingers together when he's thinking

Somewhere in his room is a piggy bank with every spare dollar and cent he's ever owned since he was 10

Wakes up every day at 4:30, dunks his head in a bowl of ice water, exercises, reads, goes for a swim, showers, writes in his journal, makes breakfast, studies, until the eventual start of his day at around 9 o'clock. (Pls get this joke)

Wasn't allowed any pets as a kid so he likes to randomly pet any dogs or cats he sees. They surprisingly seem to like him for some reason

Has never heard a single note of metal or rock music unless you count the low mumbles through the other side of the wall

Does not drive prefers to ride a bike where he needs to go solely to enjoy his newfound freedoms

Has a monthly stipend of 900 dollars and his rent for the next year is already covered

 
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classified keep out classified keep out classified





overview



name: Robin Wesley Kyang
Nickname: Rob
Age: 22
Gender: Cis-male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Role: The Artist
Apt: 1786 Holbrook Ave


"Hell's full of pussies and God is a dick,
But the run was sure good for some kicks" -GWAR







appearance







5'10"

height






a few ear piercings

mods






black

hair color






slight, wiry

build






brown

eyes






james duval

faceclaim










notes






psyche



easygoing




adventurous




lazy




creative




frivolous




uninhibited




careless




oblivious







Where's there's a keg, Rob is never far behind. There seems to be no limit to his hedonistic ways, and he always knows when and where the next rager is at. Not at all a deep or complicated person, he's actually kind of a dumbass, but rather sweet, affectionate, and genuine in his own way. Always willing to cheer others up or take a friend on a random adventure to spice up a boring day. To Rob, life is all about having fun, and he'd never let a little thing like coursework get in the way of his good time. Honestly, it'll be a miracle if he ever gets his degree.





likes
heavy metal, slushies, drawing, painting, sculpting, drinking, parties, horror movies

dislikes
waking up early, slow drivers, plans, organizing, authority, religion

fears
small/tight spaces, being confined, ending up with a boring suburban life like his parents

style
typical grungy metalhead look. his wadrobe mostly consists of shabby band tees, ripped jeans, and combat boots. all of it stained in random paint splotches and splatters. naturally straight, jet black hair is kept shaggy and often unwashed, falling a bit past chin length.





background



childhood



Rob was born and raised in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Firstborn to a couple of Ivy League graduates, they always stressed the importance of learning and education, even though Rob couldn't care less about those things. From an early age, he was far more interested in artistic pursuits: always repainting his action figures, sculpting little monsters from clay, doodling and drawing for hours. Art was his happy place, and his parents always encouraged his drive to create, enrolling him classes for painting and other mediums.

Still, Rob was definitely the black sheep and problem child of the Kyang family. While his little brother Rafael, the sweetheart, was clearly mom's favorite, and baby sister Jennifer was praised for her musical talents, Rob was a rebellious kid who did his own thing, often leaving his poor parents exasperated by his antics. Despite what a rambunctious little shit he was though, they loved and coddled him just as much as their other two children.


present day



Which brings us to the free-spirited reprobate we know today. Rob likes to think that downing any drugs he can find is a must for him, to fully unleash his artistic creativity. And while he does enjoy dabbling in substances, booze has definitely become his poison of choice. While he doesn't think he has a problem, he seems to be gradually shuffling into fullblown alcoholism, getting blackout drunk and making an ass of himself more and more these days.

Always bailed out by wealthy parents, Rob knows nothing of what it's like to struggle out in the real world without a safety net, and he'll undoubtedly stay clueless until they finally cut him off.

What's he doing in the city?
Rob was never a great student, but he managed to graduate with a mediocre GPA, thanks to the help of various paid tutors. A promising art portfolio is what got him accepted to the College of Creative Studies (along with a very generous monetary donation from the Kyangs.)



ADDITIONAL INFO








— Hates being called Robin

— Loves music, especially punk, metal, and industrial

— Also secretly enjoys a good power ballad, Debbie Gibson pop hit, or the like

— Total slob, often needs reminding to pick up after himself

— falls asleep in class regularly

— sleeps like the dead, and it's quite difficult to wake him

— kind of an alcoholic

— drives way too fast

— Took guitar lessons as a preteen

— Was bass player in his high school garage band

— They were pretty terrible, but always had a blast performing at house parties




coded by xayah.ღ
 
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code by opaline
Lottie Quinn
the princess
basics
full name —
charlotte mae quinn
nickname —
lottie
age —
22
birthday —
april 18th
gender —
female
pronouns —
she/her/her's
sexuality —
bi-curious (closeted)
hometown—
greenwich, connecticut
apartment—
1222 casmere ave
role—
the princess
quick glance—
pinterest board || spotify playlist
appearance
face claim —
suki waterhouse
description —
lottie quinn is a striking figure with an effortless yet captivating presence. standing at 5'7", she has a graceful, petite frame that carries the elegance and poise of her refined upbringing. yet there's an undeniably raw edge to her posture; her movements fluid and assertive, her expressions consistently aloof and confident, giving off an air of cool detachment. she holds herself like someone destined for something greater... or at the very least, someone who believes she is.

her facial structure is angular, with high cheekbones and sultry hazel eyes that lend her a naturally regal allure. but her hair is, without question, her most iconic feature: a true dirty blonde. once upon a time, it was immaculately styled in big, voluminous curls she maintained with care and pride. now, it falls in disheveled waves that appear intentionally unkempt. and maybe they are, but that’s not your business.

lottie’s style reflects the duality that burns within her; a refined past clashing with the rebellious spirit she’s nurtured in hamtramck’s garage rock scene. day to day, she lives in a weathered, nearly-cracked black leather jacket, often thrown over vintage band tees or silky slip dresses. she clashes these with the elegant pearls she once wore to cotillion, now symbols of quiet defiance rather than decorum.

she still wears her most expensive perfumes from back home, those delicate floral and powdery scents of her former life, but now they trail behind her, laced with the undeniable bite of cigarette smoke.

personality
lottie quinn is the kind of woman who steps into a room and doesn't need to say a word to be noticed. being raised on rules, refinement, and the importance of reputation, she has learned to develop a sharp sense of how to present to the world. graceful, composed, and seemingly always in control. yet underneath the surface lies a raging chaos that tears at the seams.

she is fiercely ambitious and constantly oozing a natural confidence, even in a world she has only ever craved from afar and is only now coming to understand. she used to being the top dog. valedictorian-level intelligence and debutante flawless, and she is not about to stop now, even if the world she is in now doesn't entirely understand her purpose in the scene, she plans to prove them wrong.

lottie was classically trained in music from a young age - singing, piano, violin. no matter what, she has always loved music and there always seemed to be a natural talent within her. she is self-taught on the guitar, preferring electric.

lottie can be sharp and biting with her words. clever with comebacks and easily cruel when cornered, but that's her defense mechanism. constantly combatting the perfectionist in her - terrified of failure and struggling against her old-money corrupted mind.

while her old-money roots run deep, she is drawn to the chaos of messy, unrestrained art, loud music, and people with nothing to lose. it is everything she shoved down growing up. from this, she's learning vulnerability, living life without a mask, and trying to deprogram the white-picket-fence-syndrome ingrained in her brain.

background
tw: homophobia (internalized & social), bullying, emotional abuse (parental pressure), mental health struggles, implied drug use, family estrangement, identity crisis, exploration of sexuality

charlotte mae quinn - better known as lottie these days - was born into a world of manicured lawns and ivy league legacies. raised in greenwich, connecticut, lottie was bred for perfection and for a future amongst the wasp's of upper crust society. her mother, a former opera singer, ensured her daughter was classically trained from the time she could speak. once an icon amongst opera culture, her mother decided to trade that world for the life of country clubs and the quiet of suburbia after marrying lottie's father. her father, old money and proud of it, taught her to carry herself with the grace of a born aristocrat. cotilions, debutante balls, and prep school pageantry were just another part of the performance. and lottie? well, she played the role exquisitely.

she was the reigning prom queen, homecoming darling, and the crown jewel of every social event. she was the kind of girl everyone admired, envied, and more so quietly despised. yet beneath the jewels and smug smiles, there was a deep and quiet unrest, a sense that the life she was living has been precisely curated for her, with no say in the matter.

she had almost broken free, though. her co-cheer captain, kaitlyn, had been the closest she’d come to stepping outside the lines. they were inseparable for a time, but something shifted the night of that party. it started with a kiss. brief. electric. lottie hadn’t seen it coming, but when kaitlyn pressed her lips to hers, something inside her sparked—warmth, confusion, maybe even longing. her heart raced in a way it never had before, especially not with any of the prep school golden boys she'd dated. she tried to laugh it off, to pretend it hadn’t meant anything. but the feeling clung to her chest like smoke.

the problem was never kaitlyn—if anything, lottie had always admired her for how carefree she was, how confidently she lived by a different set of rules. but lottie couldn’t allow herself to be seen like that. the kiss was messy. complicated. it didn’t belong in the script she’d been handed. so she pulled away. and when whispers started circling the halls, lottie; regretfully and cruelly spun the story. she made it sound like kaitlyn had misunderstood their friendship, like it was all one-sided. it was damage control. survival. but it gutted them both.

the teasing got worse. the rumors became uglier. kaitlyn transferred schools by the end of the semester.

ever since then, lottie buried that side of herself deep, tucking it away like a mistake she was never allowed to make again. she went back to playing her part: flawless, straight, untouchable. but something in her had cracked that night. and though she refused to name it then, it never really left her.

the only person who ever saw through the facade of it all was her older brother, cassius - cass for short. he was the polar opposite of her in every possible way. brash where she was composed, punk where she was polished, and unafraid to rebel against the gilded cage they were brought up in. cass introduced lottie to his world of underground bands, cassette demos and grainy black-and-white zines. he was the dreamer of the family with an ever-growing record collection. when lottie was 16, he left greenwich to chase the music that made him feel connected to reality - not whatever superficial world they lived in. lottie had admired him then, even envied him a bit. their parents revolted against him, stripping cass of his trust fund and his title as heir to daddy's company. however, his escape from home was short-lived, and the light in him had dimmed drastically. Maybe it was a bad trip, a breakdown from a world that he couldn't make a space for himself in. he didn't die, but something inside him definitely did, and that loss of passion haunted lottie in the years to come.

after graduation, her parents forced her into brown university. she was enrolled as a double major, political science and musical performance - based upon her parents wishes. she continued to play the script then, but as time went on, she felt as if somebody had been strangling her by the neck. brown was just artsy enough, though, for lottie to begin to embrace some freedom and experiment with aesthetics, music, and a lifestyle that gave her joy - but this freedom began to build a greater resistance within her against her life back home.

her junior year, easter break, she snapped. while her classmates packed bags for beach getaways and family brunches, lottie came home, stepped into her childhood bedroom, and realized she couldn't breathe. the eve before easter morning, she packed a single suitcase, pulled some cash from her trust fund, left a note upon the marble kitchen countertop, and drove west to the city her brother, cass, abandoned his soul, with absolutely no plan.

by the time spring bloomed, she was living in a shoebox apartment above a polish movie theater in hamtramck, michigan.

now, she gets by with gigs performing in sweat-slicked dive bars under the name lottie quinn. and honestly, thats the whole reason she came here. to explore the raunchy and chaotic passion for music she had craved ever since her brother shared his first record with her. she still wears her pearls and other old-money relics, but now they are enmeshed with torn band tees as she's draped in her brothers old leather jacket that he traded out for a suit and briefcase.

there's a new freedom here, she can sense it with every breath she takes, with every gig she performs, in the backseats of cars, in smoky afterparties and in the flicker of eye contact across dimly lit bars. lottie is finally starting to explore parts of herself she once buried. her attraction to women is something she's only recently begun to name.

lottie is still a princess, just not in the way anyone expected. she walks through detroit's underground scene like royalty in exile: magnetic and mysterious. and hamtramck? it's not her final destination, but it's where her real story finally begins.

extras
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 —
at the moment, she's probs living off a mix of trust fund money she took before vanishing and the little bit of money she gets from performing sets, but she def gonna have some financial probs down the line.
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 —
right now she's a solo act, lottie quinn, writes her own music, plays the electric guitar, sings some rock songs yadadada, but i would love for her to be apart of a band at some point, so ya know definitely taking plots!!! dm!!
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 —
would love for a plot point where she kind of has to reckon seriously with her sexuality, or maybe karma can come for her ass (i love drama). dm me if you wanna do something with that!!
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 —
also, i still want her to be kind of new blood entering the scene, so shes probs only been living here for the past year, maybe even a little less.
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 —
will add more if i got any other ideas, but pls dm me if you would like to plot some stuff with lottie! i swear she's not that much of a bitch. she can be a good friend too.... or your worst enemy.

relationships
will update here as things develop!!

 
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Killian Fontaine
















#the prep




#nuclear medicine










♡coded by uxie♡




❝ STREET SMART, BOOK BRILLIANT❞​

NAME: Killian Isaiah Fontaine
AGE: 25 years old
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Demisexual
ROLE: The Prep
APARTMENT: 1222 Casmere Ave


ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ


​
APPEARANCE: He glides through life with the silent magnetism of a man who has never needed to announce his presence—the world simply adjusts to accommodate him. Killian is a striking 6'1" vision of effortless elegance, his lean yet muscular frame moving with the natural grace of someone who is always active. His dark umber skin glows with golden undertones, framing sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and those arresting bourbon-brown eyes - fringed by improbably thick lashes and capable of conveying intense focus or distant contemplation. His style walks the line between refined and relaxed: perfectly fitted oxfords with rolled sleeves, well-worn chinos, and scuffed leather loafers that suggest he values comfort as much as appearance.

Every detail about Killian speaks to quiet confidence - from his signature half-smirk to the way his long fingers gesture precisely when he speaks. The slight slump of his back and faint shadows under his eyes betray human imperfections, while his perpetually tousled black curls and that space between his front teeth when he laughs keep him approachable. Whether leaning against a doorway with casual elegance or catching sunlight just right to highlight his features, Killian possesses that rare magnetism that makes people look twice without understanding why.


ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ​


PERSONALITY: He carries himself with the quiet, unshakable confidence of a man who's fought for every opportunity he's ever gotten. There's an effortless magnetism to him—a way of listening so intently people feel truly heard, a dry wit delivered with just enough charm to take the edge off his sharper observations. But beneath that disarming smile lies a spine of steel. He's perfected the art of deflection—making adversaries underestimate him with humor or feigned easygoing—only to strike with surgical precision when crossed. This isn't arrogance; it's hard-won survival instinct. As a scholarship kid who clawed his way into nuclear medicine, he learned early that soft-spoken men who let their work speak first last longest in cutthroat environments.

His intelligence isn't the flashy kind—it's the relentless, grinding variety forged in library stacks and 3 AM study sessions. Where peers might flaunt their pedigrees, Killian's brilliance reveals itself in the elegant way he breaks down complex radiation therapies for nervous patients, or how he spots flawed research methodologies others gloss over. The nuclear medicine field fascinates him not just for its innovation potential, but because it mirrors his own nature: powerful energy carefully contained, calibrated for maximum impact. His ambition burns quiet but bright—he wants to pioneer targeted alpha therapies for terminal cancers, not for accolades, but because he remembers watching his grandmother die from what's now a treatable malignancy. This personal stake keeps him digging deeper when others would clock out.

What truly disarms people is the unexpected warmth beneath his professional reserve. He's the first to buy coffee for night-shift nurses, remembers every orderly's name, and has a gift for making frightened patients feel like they're in the steadiest hands imaginable. His closest friends know the man who debates radiopharmaceuticals with razor logic also cries at terrible rom-coms and sends his little sister absurdly detailed care packages (complete with hand-drawn diagrams explaining how her microwave works). This dichotomy—the brilliant mind that calculates radiation half-lives paired with the heart that still visits his old bodega owner every Thanksgiving—is what makes people fiercely loyal to him. They recognize his tough exterior isn't armor against the world, but a filter ensuring only the worthy get to see the man who still keeps his childhood chess trophy on his desk as a reminder: strategy beats brute force every time.


ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
​

HISTORY: Born in 1966 to hardworking parents in Detroit’s North End, Killian grew up in a modest but proud household where education was treated as sacred. His father, Charles Fontaine, worked the line at the Ford River Rouge plant, coming home with grease under his nails and a stubborn belief that union wages could build a better future. His mother, Lydia, was a no-nonsense elementary school teacher who drilled grammar and multiplication tables into Killian and his two younger sisters at the kitchen table. Money was tight, but the Whitmore house was rich in dog-eared library books, Motown records, and fierce debates about politics and boxing over Friday night fish fries.

By 1989, Killian turned into a walking contradiction—a street-smart scholarship kid with a nuclear medicine residency from Wayne State, equally comfortable in a lab coat and a Tigers cap. His teenage years were a balancing act between protecting his sisters from neighborhood trouble (he still carries the scar above his eyebrow from a broken bottle fight outside Mumford High) and burying himself in textbooks at the public library until closing time. He funded his education by working midnight shifts at Henry Ford Hospital as an orderly, where he first became fascinated by radiation oncology after seeing how a well-delivered treatment could rewrite someone’s fate.

By day, he’s a rising star at Detroit Receiving Hospital’s radiology department, pioneering new brachytherapy techniques. By night, he’s in the Cass Corridor dive bars where old union men and jazz musicians swap stories—his sharp mind absorbing everything from auto industry grievances to the science of a perfect saxophone riff. He drives a beat-up ‘79 Grand Prix he rebuilt himself, blasts The Clark Sisters gospel tapes when stressed, and keeps a dog-eared copy of *The Autobiography of Malcolm X* in his locker.

His parents’ lessons echo in everything he does: the discipline to calculate radiation dosages to the milligram, the instinct to clock a disingenuous administrator from a mile away, and the quiet vow that his sisters will never have to work a factory line. Detroit’s decay fuels his ambition—not to escape the city, but to master the kind of science that could heal it from the inside out. When colleagues ask why he turned down Ivy League residencies, he just smirks and says, “Somebody’s gotta keep these streets breathing.” The unspoken truth? He’s already drafting plans for a community cancer center in the North End—right where his mom’s old students still play hopscotch on cracked sidewalks.

 






Marty J. Scott ; The Brains




















i'm just thinking of the right words to say










♡coded by uxie♡

i feel numb, born with a weak heart ─ IMPORTANT INFO
─ MARTY / MJ ( martin jeremy scott )
─ Name Meaning: martin "of war" jeremy "god will uplift" scott "from scotland"
─ Nicknames: marty, mj, scott, scotty
─ Gender: cisgendered male
─ Pronouns: he/him
─ Age: 21
─ Birthdate: august 5th
─ Role: the brain

i guess i must be having fun ─ VISUALS
─ Appearance: marty gives the impression of someone who once cared and almost can't be bothered anymore. a perfectly crafted image, cracked and frayed before you. if you knew martin in high school, you would be shocked to see him now. his hair is overgrown, with fluffy bangs tickling his thick eyebrows and shaggy tufts of raven hair peaking out behind his ears. his sideburns always seem a touch too long and he goes a day too many in between shaves— not that he can really grow anything, but you can see the terribly patchy stubble that seems reluctant to even be on his upper lip when you stand near him. the crooked, sharp teeth he used to talk about getting straightened almost never show themselves in a smile. he looks visibly run-down, dark bags under his eyes and his clothes rumpled. he mumbles now, his voice no longer clear or commanding. his pale skin seems almost sallow, giving him the slight appearance of unhealthiness. he no longer stands with perfect posture, his shoulders rolling forward in a slouch.

he hates his appearance now. he knows he should cut his hair more, wear nicer clothes, try harder. but he can't look in the mirror for longer than a few seconds. he hates his large nose and small lips, the way his freckles and moles mar his skin. he hates his giant ears and scrawny arms. but what he hates most is the way his own, hazel eyes stare back at him, reminding him that he was, ultimately nothing. A failure.

his style is fairly basic. checkered button up shirts tucked into light wash jeans. an acid wash denim jacket that has definitely seen better days seems to be a staple. the occasional sweater makes its way into the rotation. his white sneakers look beat up and worse for wear. sometimes, in the early mornings, you'll catch him wearing his glasses. large, round wire frames that remind you of river phoenix. his presence in a room is either non existent or just pervasive and unwelcome enough to make you mildly uncomfortable.
─ Height: 5'9"
─ Body Modifications: he has earlobe piercings that he hasn't worn earrings in since they healed.
─ Scars:
─ Faceclaim: fionn whitehead

the less we say about it, the better ─ PERSONALITY
★ ─ Overall Personality: if you had known martin in high school, you would be a little shocked at who he was now. he has always been introverted, but he seems to be a ghost of himself. moving from a sweet, albeit quiet guy to someone who is now unrecognizable.

marty is sort of prickly. those who aren't close to him would call him unpleasant. upon first meeting him, you would find him to be unfriendly. he is quiet, unwilling to hold a conversation with you, and often responds to you with a highly annoyed stare. he's often short and curt with others, preferring short, disinterested answers over engaging. when he does string along more than a couple of words, he has a reputation for being blunt, telling you exactly how he sees it. no sugar coating, no rose-colored glasses. he says exactly what you don't want to hear, and often times what others are thinking. he doesn't fear the judgement or outright protest that those around him raise, death glares doing nothing to dampen this brazenness. sometimes, he takes it a little too far and things come out much harsher than he intends them to.

on top of a general broodiness and bad attitude, marty also has a notable temper. usually, getting upset results in him slinking off to spend more time by himself. on rarer occasions, his reaction is a lot more explosive. he can be very confrontational. his penchant for telling the ugly truth and shirking judgement makes it easy for him to approach conflict without care. he can be quite defiant to anyone who considers themself an authority figure, and certainly does not like anyone who believes themselves to be better than him— especially when they're know-it-alls and pretend to be smarter than they truly are. he hates fakers and the ingenuine, which makes it very difficult for him to get along with just about anyone.

the cynical nature of marty comes as a side-effect of growing up "gifted". he's quickly become disillusioned in his adulthood, wilting away from his bright-eyed self and instead opening his eyes to a harsh reality. it's allowed him to begin to see through people— or at least believe he does. he used to have a much more hopeful outlook on life, now turned to realism. the world is unforgiving, cold. he doesn't believe in dreams or passion anymore, finding it all to be frivolous and useless. hollow. worthless. he used to be ambitious, now finding ambition to equate to naivety. he knows this world is every man for himself, people are self-serving— including him. but he finds himself to be above the rest of them because he knows what a rat race this life is. he knows that dreams aren't worth it, and he's not pretending he's not amongst the self-interested. the world is empty.

just about everything about him has changed. he's intense, reclusive, angry, cynical. but in all of it, there's one hint of himself still there. he's still sharp. martin's always been known to be intelligent, even now. he's smart, observant, analytical. he's a true problem-solver. as reluctant he is to your cause, if you really need help on a head scratcher, he's your guy. but he doesn't exactly do much with it. it's almost latent within him, never getting put to use. it mostly materializes in a perfectly cutting, quick wit you wish you could smother. though, he still possesses an intense curiosity that he can't dampen. when he's intrigued by something, he can't help himself. a challenge almost always shows a flicker of his usual self.

all of it, all of the change all of the difficultness— it's all his self-loathing. he hates himself more than he could ever hate you. the overachiever, "gifted kid" has cracked. he's a failure. the truth is that he feels everything deeply when he'd rather feel nothing at all. he doesn't mean to hurt others, but he'd rather be hurt by honesty than comforted by lies. he's trained himself to shut down the part of himself that would show that he cares, but when you really need someone and no one else shows, for some reason he's there. ultimately, he wants to be seen. not as the perfect student, not as the disappointment, not as the failure, but as martin. he's pushing others away because he expects them to leave, he wishes someone would stay.

make it up as we go along ─ RELATIONS
─ Backstory:
  • grew up in grosse pointe, michigan, the youngest of three. he has two older brothers: christopher and jason. comes from a working-class family that aspires to become middle-class. suburban neighborhood with neat lawns and everyone cares about what their neighbors think. his father is a blue collar man and his mother a kind, but passive woman.
  • his dad is a contractor, mom a sahm. brothers grew up as athletes, something marty never took part in. dad wanted "tough" sons. it's not that he didn't love marty, he just had a hard time connecting with him. respected grit and not grades. accused marty of thinking he was too good for the family when he started showing promise. dad unintentionally played favorites, favoring the boys he could relate to and pushing aside the one he couldn't.
  • his mother tried to play mediator and support martin the best she could. she wanted to keep the house at peace, never taking a strong stance. she would tell him to give his father some grace, to give it time. it was the best she could do without making too much of a stir.
  • his brothers sort of left him out. not intentionally, but they couldn't relate to him either. they grew up athletic, popular, confident. he couldn't win with them. they teased him, the way older brothers do, but no matter how marty reacted he was always in the wrong. too sensitive or too arrogant. they both find him to be dramatic now.
  • love came with strings: be good, make us proud, do everything right. the scotts cared immensely about their image within the community. while he wasn't the favorite, and his father never understood his intelligence, it became both an expectation and a point of pride for the family. chris and jason were tough, marty was smart. there came some pressure to perform. to be loved by the family, he had to be the best at what he did— the smartest. he always strove for perfection. he starting falling apart about the time he was a teenager. any small failure stuck with him. he can still hear "i guess he's not as smart as we thought" every time he makes a mistake.
  • his senior year of high school, his yearbook was signed with nothing but pleasantries. no inside jokes, no memories. just empty praise from people who didn't know him. he had no friends. just about every signature had some message about him being smart. he hated it. he might have been half-way admired, but never cared about. never loved. he was alone.
  • why is he in detroit? he dropped out of wayne state after his first year. for some reason, he had always assumed that if he just made it to college he wouldn't feel so hollow. he could be proud. the pieces of his life would fall into place. but one year on the pre-med track left him feeling as empty as he had that summer when he realized there really wasn't anyone to say goodbye to. he forfeited his full-ride scholarship.
  • he didn't tell anyone when he dropped out. he just packed his bags, got on a bus, and left. his family found out through someone else what had happenedhe;d bumped into another local kid who had gone to wayne, who relayed the story to them, but they didn't hear it from him. he doesn't know how they found his phone number, but he doesn't answer when they call anymore. he couldn't explain why in a way they'd understand. he tried, for a couple weeks, but the harassment from his father couldn't be tolerated anymore. he asks his roommate to just hang up anytime they call.
  • mrs. bugalski's was one of the few rooms he could afford in the area. he hadn't meant to stay so close, but he didn't have options anymore. he's worked odd jobs in the last year, none of them sticking for more than a couple of months. he barely scrounges up enough for rent each month. hamtramck is less than a half hour away from where his family still lives, but they all act like they're out of reach from each other. his mother still calls to invite him to every family event and holiday. he doesn't go.
  • sometimes, he still thinks about returning to school. the problem is he has no passion, no aspiration. even if he went back just for the glory, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. it wouldn't be any different than the first time. so he stays where he's at.
─ Sexuality: bisexual, demiromantic
─ Relationship Status: single
─ Crush(es): none
─ Past Partners: he's had a couple of flings in the past year, but nothing that stuck. no one you recognize, no one he still feels attached to.

feet on the ground, head in the sky ─ HCs
─ has a soft spot for animals, especially strays. one of the few times you'd see a caring side of him.
─ his room has large bookshelves that are overflowing with books. reading is mostly how he passes his time these days.
─ a bank of obscure knowledge. he's read about or learned about many things in his short life. it's not possible for him to know everything, but he likely knows something about most subjects.
─ he sleeps on the couch more than he does in his own bed. he claims it's because it's closer to the window, but somehow his bedroom feels like it's full of more expectations. he stays up late watching documentaries, drifting off in the quiet glow of the tv.
─ secretly loves infomercials in a way he cannot explain. it's his guilty pleasure.
─ he journals. it's kept under his mattress, where no one can find it. he writes them like they're half of a conversation. like unsigned letters that should've been sent to someone else.
─ has the whole periodic table memorized.
─ keeps a small, rusty pocket knife in his jacket. he never uses it, but he reaches for it when he feels nervous. his grandfather gave it to him before he passed.
─ his brothers both still live nearby. chris is a firefighter in detroit and jason works construction. he has a nephew, who's just a few months old now, but he's never seen him.
─ he cuts all the tags out of his shirts. they itch. he hates it.
─ can do math in his head fairly quickly. nothing too complicated, but the speed at which he can do long division mentally is astounding. he's got the answer before you have it typed into your calculator.
─ his walkman is broken. he keeps it in a drawer with a mix tape chris gave him once.
─ all of his relationships end for the same reason: they get too close.
─ likes jazz music, it helps him concentrate.
─ besides his bookshelves, his room is fairly empty. he doesn't own anything he couldn't pack up and leave with in fifteen minutes.
─ wip

it's okay, i know nothing's wrong, nothing ─ PLOT IDEAS
─ best friend : you're the one person that marty considers a friend. he's still quite prickly and guarded, but you see more of the softer, reserved young man who you can tell is burnt and exhausted. you're the one who convinces him to come out and get out of his room. your opinion matters to him, when no one else's does. people might ask you why you put up with him, and you can't really explain it, but you know martin needs you in a way none of your other friends do. you care for him, and in his own, quiet way, he cares for you too.
─ friends-ish : you still wouldn't necessarily describe marty as friendly, but he seems to tolerate you more than he used to. he's usually pretty quiet, but you think he's making a concerted effort not to say whatever he thinks around you.
─ enemies / unfriendly : no matter how hard you try, you and marty just cannot get along. his unfriendliness clashes with your personality in just the right way that you two drive each other crazy. he knows just the right thing to say to get under your skin, and likewise you know just how to rile him up. your relationship puts a little bit of a strain on the group sometimes. you two just don't get each other.
  • can range from mildly unfriendly with each other to sworn enemies. room to evolve into a friendlier relationship.
─ romance :
  • friends to lovers : once you and martin are friends, you find yourselves growing a lot closer. there's some chemistry there that neither of you can deny but you're both dancing around. the way he looks at you is much softer than you ever remember. he seems more afraid of your touch than he ever had. your heart beats faster when you're together. it wasn't always like this. what's changed?
  • kiss or kill : you and marty have never seen eye-to-eye. some might have even labeled your relationship as volatile. yet, there's an undeniable spark between you two. you take kiss or kill tension to a whole new level. you don't really remember how you two ended up in bed together, but somehow it makes sense. in front of everyone else, you still bicker like always, but the heat is undeniable. it feels more personal when you fight, but you still somehow end up in each other's arms. it's becoming a bad habit.
  • ex-fling : marty's not really a relationship guy. he sort of expects people to leave and pushes most people away. somehow, you two got started with a sort of physicality to your relationship. the second it got real, he bailed. things are awkward now, but he's no unfriendlier to you than he is to everyone else. you two just have more tension between you than him and a stranger.
  • open to other romance dynamics.
─ an unexpected ally :
  • in an emergency, marty is the only person you were able to get ahold of. maybe you were trying to reach one of his roommates, but none of them were home. he was probably the last person you called, a desperate plea for help. he seemed unwilling to assist. you didn't expect him to show. but, despite his protests on the phone, he ends up coming to get you. it's an unprecedented gesture of kindness from him.
  • you have a problem. maybe it's homework, maybe it's work. somehow, you spark martin's curiosity. you find him peeking over your shoulder as you attempt to solve it, or casually asking questions when he's never taken an interest in your life before. somehow, he has enough knowledge to be helpful. before you know it, he's sat next to you showing you what he would do. things feel easier between you than they normally do.

i, i got plenty of time ─ PLAYLIST
─ the promise - when in rome
─ this must be the place (naive melody) - talking heads
─ heaven knows i'm miserable now - the smiths
─ love will tear us apart - joy division
─ eyes without a face - billy idol

 
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LEV KOVITSKY.
















THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW




... MOSTLY










♡coded by uxie♡



— Age: 22
— Role:
— Sexuality: Bisexual

Had Lev's mother known English thirty or so years ago, his life might now be far more dramatic.

The pamphlet that guided Asna and her family out of their Jewish community in Poland promised jobs, high education and, most importantly, the appeal of massive urbanity. In the days that dragged their ship across the bitter Atlantic, she imagined herself crossing a black massive lake into brilliance; she stood, a young girl, with almost violent anticipation of America. Her relatives sent her letters from San Francisco, New York City and Chicago, detailing to her a world of which she knew nothing. His mother, at that point, only experienced the sucking mud back home and mute European architecture that froze in the winters.

She didn't want her home, on that boat. She wanted the chance to step into excitement, and to never ever settle for silence.

The quiet of absolute bafflement when she found herself in Hamtramck, MI doesn't count.

It was not as glamorous as she imagined. The immigrant community that Asna heard so much about thought her foreign; after all, people her age had their parents or grandparents move here decades ago, and she was far too new for what was almost the 60's. In the confusion of finding employment elsewhere, she almost awkwardly married Gabriel, a man born from expats so long ago that his Polish sounded like cats yowling. He was more than decent, really - though he only waited until their marriage certificate got put away to tell her he already had a son.

It was not Lev, obviously- this was a bit before his time.

But that son, Adrian, lived in Detroit proper; and his mother, advised against having kids in the first place, was more than willing to wiggle away to another city. By the time Asna was pregnant, she had already decided that there was not much to do but to take life by the throat and shake it a bit.

That's why Lev was born here. Not San Francisco, or Los Angeles, or anywhere with comparable nice weather. As if somehow he had felt that he wasn't located in an extreme metropolis, he was born with a resentful easiness.

Most of Lev's childhood was getting hit in the face by frisbees. The rest was sticking questionable clay bulges on the underside of the stairs, screaming, football lessons and laying on the floor in proud defiance. He rarely smiled. His parents, mostly reasonable people tethered by hope, had to drag him around by the ankles if he didn't want to move. From the moment he was uprooted into existence like a stubborn tree, Lev had been aggressively dispassionate; he felt like doing nothing much at all, but didn't complain about new knowledge, either.

Asna lived to see more than she did to exist. Gabriel, thinly smiling, still had a want to travel.

Lev, in a confusing knot of fate, was just content.

He picked fights, but it wasn't fire that drove him, or a dangerous passion; he simply grew up tall and athleticism fit him well.
 
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Saacha Kayani | the international student

  • Physical Age: 21
    Sexuality: pansexual, exploring
    Pronouns: he/him
    Height: 193cm / 6'4"
    Build: slender, fit, lanky
    Notable features: beauty mark (corner of mouth, neck)

    History Born: Pakistan
    Raised: Chelsea, London
    Family: youngest boy of 3
    Degree: computer science
    Resides: 1798 Holbrook

 
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  • The Queen of Mean
    Mallory Chung


01.
02.
03.
04.
05.
code by birth of venus.
 
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MALACHI CASTILLO
THE ATHLETE/THE EX-CONVICT
AKA ────── "El GUERO", MAC "MALDITO" CASTILLO
AGE ────── 23 YRS.
GENDER ────── M.
SEXUALITY ────── BISEXUAL.
PRONOUNS ────── HE/HIM.
APPEARANCE ────── stands at 6'1; has heterochromia (grey-blue in right eye, dark brown in left eye)
APARTMENT ────── 1222 CASEMERE.
WHY IS HE IN THE CITY? ────── Malachi Castillo was born with a last name that got the kind of respect in the parts of southwest Detroit where folks knew better than to ask what was in the trunk, because they knew the money inside doesn’t come clean and neither do the hands that move it. Back in the ’70s, before everything got slick and wired, his uncle ran things quietly, efficiently, and violently; just one crooked cog in a much larger criminal machine that stretched all the way back to Sinaloa. Mac grew up knowing the rules: don’t talk too loud, don’t look too long, and don’t ever say no when family asks for something. By the time he was thirteen, he'd already drawn up a hundred lines of coke; and was expected to do his share, because no one stays clean; not with his last name, not in that neighborhood, not when trouble was passed down like bad jewelry. But really, sixteen was when it all broke sideways. He doesn’t talk about how many shots, or who shot first, or what he thought he saw in the dark between sirens and yelling, just that the whole thing happened fast, too fast, and there was blood on the street before the static in his head cleared. When it was all over, the other boys were gone, the guns were on the ground, and one officer never got back up. They booked him heavy, too heavy for a sixteen-year-old Mexican kid from Junction Street with a public defender and no chance in hell, but he pled it down, took what he could carry, and came out with a number in his file and fire in his hands he didn’t know what to do with. He didn’t find God inside, didn’t find a good girl to scare him completely straight; what he found was boxing. Boxing became the only thing that made sense; a place to put the noise, the blame, the version of himself that didn’t get to grow up like he was supposed to. When he got out at twenty, his uncle wasted no time getting him in the ring. The fights were fixed more often than not; the crowds came for blood, for Mac "Maldito" Castillo, and they stayed for business; guns changed hands in the back rooms, dirty cash passed between gang men and Detroit politicians, and to them, Mac was just another asset with hella footwork and reach. He plays along because it pays, because it keeps the leash loose, because if he wins, his uncle wins, and Mac gets to do what his grandma’s prayed for every night since he got out: enroll at Wayne State and try something different. That something was sports medicine, because he figures if he's going to keep breaking bodies, he might as well learn how they’re built, and keep alive a dream of opening up his own gym someday. He ended up at 1222 Casmere because his grandma told him she could cash in a favor from an old friend for a place, nothing fancy, not much, but solid floors and an open room if he needed it. So he took it, figuring he’d be out by the semester... ...three years later, he’s still here, and somehow, that says more about him than he ever will; he’s social when it suits him, a hermit when it doesn’t. Judgment is the last thing you'd expect from him, but that doesn't stop that sharp tongue of his landing heavier than his right hooks, unsympathetic to feelings and calling things out as they are, always has. He can make people laugh just hard enough to forget he's held knives to throats and has technically killed before. And really, half the time he’s joking, but the other half is you hoping he is. He's prideful but perceptive enough to know when he's getting too big in the mouth, and the kind of guy who’ll hand you his own shirt off his back to clean your own bullshit off your plate and call it dinner. Because underneath all the rough edges, there’s something oddly generous about him. He doesn’t parade it, doesn’t perform it, he simply shows up. He’ll hand you whatever you need if he can give it, mop up your messes without asking for thanks, and make sure you don’t fall apart before the bar closes, in that characteristic, careful, all the nonsense yet no-nonsense loyalty he grew up with. He says he’s out of that world, and you want to believe him, but sometimes a favor gets called in with no warning and there are people who remember who he was, or worse, who his uncle still is, and sometimes that means rival names spray paint too close to his block, or strangers in cars that idle too long outside Casmere. He tells people he’s just trying to make his grandma proud, keep his head down, get the damn degree and live something like a normal life, but part of him can't tell if he’s still fighting for, or with the version of himself that never made it out of that prison, and out of that parking lot.
Code by Nano
 
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