Realistic or Modern 𝐖𝐑𝐂𝐆 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

[erzulie]

WHERE THE CARNATIONS GROW

© REVERIEE

NAME:
NICKNAME:
D.O.B:
AGE: 21+ (keep in mind these are newly graduated students of NYU)
GENDER:
ORIENTATION:

APPEARANCE:
FACECLAIM: (optional)

PERSONALITY: a paragraph or more
WHAT'S THEIR GREATEST FEAR? a brief explanation, if you have multiple dont be afraid to add those -- there can be more than one ofc.

HISTORY: can be as short or long as you’d like

 

[lvcid]

• a.
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  The Killing Moon
  

  
  
  
  

  Echo & the Bunnymen
  

  
  

  1:48

  
  

  
  

  2:33

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  Frankie Dallas
  

  
  
  
  

  odessa a’zion
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  friend

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[lisbeth]

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ INERTIA .ᐟ

ANDREA KIDMAN.

BY LISBETH . . .

Coded by Uxie.

... Doomed.

Bring Me The Horizon.

INERTIA.

I

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ De Secreto.

“ ⠀ You're all vampires﹐so here﹐you can have my HEART . ⠀ ”

FULL NAME.

Andrea Sofie Ivalu Kidman.

NICKNAME(S).

Andy, Furore, Kidman, Half-Pint, Mouse.

AGE.

Twenty-five years old (16th August).

GENDER.

Unlabelled; she/her, they/them.

SEXUALITY.

Homoromantic homosexual.

ETHNICITY.

Her father is of Danish descent; her mother is of Greenlandic and Danish descent.

OCCUPATION.

Retail assistant and animal shelter volunteer.

II

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ AD SUPERFICIEM.

HAIR.

Her hair resembles the aftermath of a little girl playing hairdresser with her doll. It's raven black and cut as short as a fuse, not even so much as tickling her shoulders when let down, with either side underneath shaved to the skin.

EYES.

Slate blue and holds a goggle-eyed expression, as if she is an eternal witness to an unimaginable horror.

COMPLEXION.

She looks like death warmed up, with natural pallor skin, deep purple, and red bags of skin underneath her eyes—giving her what looks like natural eye-shadow—, high cheekbones, and concave cheeks; the pinkish tinge of joy intermittently emerging on her cheeks.

BUILD.

An overactive metabolism and perfunctory dietary choices have led to an underdeveloped physique. At 5’2” (157cm) and 107lbs (48kg), she has angular shoulders that slump forward, narrow wrists, and bony hips; her rail-thin limbs and untamed, darting movements almost bear resemblance to a daddy long-legs.

BODY MODIFICATION(S).

Bleached eyebrows, alongside piercings through her right eyebrow, the right side of her lip, septum, navel, both earlobes, and left nostril—each one decked with silver jewellery; a dulled, self-inflicted tattoo of the phrase, “Follow the white rabbit” wrapping around her left forearm, and a tattoo on her right bicep of Malcolm Browne’s photograph of the self-immolation of Thích Quảng Đức.

WARDROBE.

Her clothing has always been a safeguard without the physical need of speech, though the irony of dark clothing is in the attention it picks up. Everything is varying, sombre tones of black or grey, and she habitually wears a child’s sized, distressed tank top; graphic short-sleeved and long-sleeved tops—the printed designs would surely make a Christian Texan mother’s blood curdle—; over-the-top or zip up hooded sweatshirts; further layered by a studded leather biker jacket; and low-waisted slim fit jeans stuffed into moth-eaten combat boots.

FACE CLAIM.

Rooney Mara in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.

III

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ SAPERE AUDE.

There is a considerable difference between being alone and feeling lonely, the difference between content and yearning. Andy has never felt particularly attracted to society and indeed has less of a disposition for being a part of it; notwithstanding, there are indeed moments of disconsolate desire for relations (as few as they may be), but they are as fleeting as an intrusive thought—never attaching herself to it and continuing life thereafter, as if she had zoned out. The comfort of their own company is not necessarily out of their own volition, but a more defeated acceptance stemming from their ineptitude to relate to those around them; Andy simply isn’t there, and if asked about it, would liken it to being a ghost.

Such an introverted and asocial mien conflates Andy as disrespectful and ill-mannered. Yet talking with her about genuine interests—hers or otherwise—uncloaks a surprisingly avid and open extroversion. Although, perhaps from time to time she is too plain-speaking for her own good; when someone asks you for the truth, you don’t give them an even-handed outlook; you give them what they want as the truth. The artificial methods of neurotypical society are something she has ostensibly accepted (to, if nothing else, provide for herself and her mother) for the time being, but has no intention of employing them to her life.

Inevitably, it has occurred to her that: why would an employer hire somebody such as herself, when they could, hell, hire an inebriate who is out of the game by eight in the evening with vomit trickling down his favourite football jersey, seated in a dilapidated armchair, but can see to every area of work with no sweat. The reason being that most people who can handle every area of work will conduct it with mediocrity. But if appointed a task befitted to her, Andy has a clear-cut imagination and almost sheer magical ability to compile information, reports, and etcetera, from nowhere in half the time it may take thrice the number of people. Her way of working isn’t always conventional, but it yields results far exceeding expectations.

POSITIVE TRAIT(S).

Serious-minded, individualistic, principled, reflective, self-aware, thorough, methodical, diplomatic.

NEGATIVE TRAIT(S).

Mistrustful, perfectionist, aloof, tense, resentful, pedantic, self-doubting, guarded.

FEAR(S).

Failure to achieve her idea of fulfilment in life; capitulating to the ideals and standards of general society; forever lacking a solid support system.

AILMENT(S) & CONDITION(S).

Autism spectrum disorder (ASD), iron deficiency anaemia, clinical depression, nicotine dependence, pollen allergy.

IV

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ NOS IN DIEM VIVUMUS.

TW: Mention of suicide and death.

Andrea Sofie Ivalu Kidman (born 16th August 1996) was the youngest of three, five years her brother and sister’s (Victor and Karla, who were fraternal twins) junior. They originally lived with their mother, Alma Kidman, and father, Malthe Kidman, in an impoverished suburb on the outskirts of Copenhagen—living off food stamps and private insurance fund reaped benefits—before moving to the city Odense by the time Andy was four years old, when her mother was fit to work again after having given birth to three children.

Soon after the twins turned nineteen, Victor, who had been diagnosed with schizophrenia the preceding year, overdosed, and drowned in the bathtub of their house. His death shattered the family like a bullet through glass.

Death was not a particularly foreign concept, but unaccustomed to Andy nonetheless; except for when she had a pet goldfish at four years old—as a celebratory present to comfort her in their new home—and overfed it on accident, but her mother urged it was sleeping and flushed it down the toilet with the promise of returning it to the deep blue.

Yet she hadn’t cried then, and she didn’t cry now. Although, an overpowering sorrow encased her—a rage rather than sadness. One she never learned how to express.

When he was of legal drinking age, Malthe (whose father had been a vicious, splenetic drunkard) had vowed an oath to himself to never even so much as sniff a glass of liquor—the Devil’s Piss, he would always call it. After Victor’s death, Malthe began drinking like a horse, eventually drinking himself to death two years afterwards.

Karla had already moved to a university in the United States by this point. And Alma, now without a husband and son, became reclusive—seldom leaving their house aside from buying essential items when Andy wasn’t available—with Andy tending to her as a helper, halting her life for the following years until eventually joining her sister.

RELATIONSHIP(S).

ALMA KIDMAN.
(Mother, fifty-five years old, alive.)

MALTHE KIDMAN.
(Father, passed away at forty-six years old; cardiac arrest.)

VICTOR KIDMAN
( Brother, passed away at nineteen years old; suicide. )

KARLA NADEAU.
(Sister, thirty years old, alive.)

V

━━┄ ⠀ ⠀ Galeria.

Coded by Uxie & Image PSD by Avenoirpsd.

 

[aeneas.]

chester finch

everyone's favorite hater and resident shitposter

♡coded by uxie♡

c.f.

서예슬

eat your heart out.

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains.

• .
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  requisite.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  full name

  
  

  chester finch

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  age

  
  

  twenty-three (august 1st)

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  gender

  
  

  male, he/him

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  sexuality

  
  

  bisexual, male leaning

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  occupation

  
  

  part-time editor for a sleazy playwright, full-time broke boy with expensive taste

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  degree

  
  

  accountancy (he hates it as much as you do)

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  visage.

  
  
  
  

  scroll

  
  
  
  

  
  

  height

  
  

  6'2"

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  hair colour

  
  

  sandy blonde hair that he often keeps rather short, long enough to frame his face. there was a time where he rocked a shaggy look because he wanted to feel like bowie. yes, it was dumb child shit. no, he doesn't want to talk about it.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  eye colour

  
  

  he insists his eyes are grey but with the time he spends in the shaded areas rather than the sunlight, everyone says they're black. they also probably tell him that to see him angry.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  build

  
  

  skin and bones underneath his voluminous layers of clothing. a lot of leg and just not enough muscle.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  distinguishing features

  
  

  despite the endless debate on his eye color, the windows to his snarky little soul are his most distinctive feature. less for their grey-black tone and more for the constant *look* in them; the way they hold critical observation, boredom, and amusement all in one go. there's a contradiction of intensity and somberness that fester within the pits of his pupils. other than that, well. he also has his long ass fingers. but people seem to appreciate those.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  wardrobe

  
  

  mix the pristinely expensive clothing found in uptown and ratty charity shop garments in earth-tones and you got yourself chester's closet. he enjoys the lavishness he once had but settles for the unique finds he could mangle now. more can be found here.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  fc

  
  

  charles de vilmorin

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
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  persona.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  witty & cynical

  
  
  
  
  

  extremely judgey (will he say it? 5 out of 10 times)

  
  
  
  
  

  lives for shits and giggles

  
  
  
  
  

  can get a little moody

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  every friend group needs a sour, (ex)trust-fund kid who loves to hate and hates to love, and chester is here to fill that void.
  
  it's almost like chester finch was born to make desert-dry commentary on the world around him. with the posture of nobility and a potty-mouth of peasantry, he possesses the sharp tongue any new yorker would want on their side. despite having the entire english language to reference, he finds cusses and crudeness as the best means of verbally expressing his thoughts. if he isn't muttering a string of words your mother wouldn't want to be hearing when he's in one of his "hissy fits", then that is an evil clone of chester. or a good clone depending on the way you see it.
  
  sure, chester is a bit of a know-it-all. but if you had to go through years of private education with the additional extra-curricular down your throat, you'd want everyone else to suffer along with you. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and as much as chester hates to admit it, the urge to correct his friends when reading their thesis is genetic. however, his comparison to his mother and father doesn't make him any sort of parental friend figure—no. far from it. anyone who knows chester would know that his upbringing has molded him into a hedonist; the enticement of a good time outweighs his rationality more often than not. the number of times chester's peers had to chuck away his cigarette stash just to ensure he wouldn't smoke while being ill was beyond existing numbers. his ambitions and goals for greatness are probably what has been keeping him alive for this long.
  
  if drama reared its ugly head, you know for a fact that chester was a variable in the problem. may he be the defense, prosecution, or simply the gossip—chester was the guy who knew everything and anything. in an 80s classic highschool film, he would probably see himself as the head bitch with the big hair and the sparkly lipgloss but in reality, he was the annoying side character used for comedic relief. in a family show, he would be the middle-aged wine aunt; the one who'd pretend not to want to help the rest of the family out but secretly does care. and in a play, he's the playwright. duh.
  
  in summary, he's a bit rough around the edges but he means well. underneath snarky retorts, backhanded compliments, and over-exaggerated reluctance to affection, chester has a "fuck with my friends, i'll fuck with you." attitude. being as prideful as he is, it's not a surprise that he holds a form of possessiveness toward those he associates with. in the dog-eat-dog world he comes from, allies can be the difference between getting helped home after a night out or dead in a ditch. even as he spits acid and pushes away friendly hugs, know that he's really a dog of bark than one of bite. expressing love and care is difficult for him and middle-school teasing is his outlet. deep down in his ratty heart, there's a good friend; a vulnerable man.
  
  but hell will freeze over before he shows it.
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  fear

  
  

  
  

  becoming his parents. that after his attempts to cut ties, change his life, and follow his passions, he'd end up where he started. that the path he's taking is just a phase and the passions he had would fizzle as fast as they lit. that he'll soon be middle-aged and dependant on the taste of wine to feel something that isn't bitterness. he fears proving his family right and that the predestined path he was given was the true path he'd end up taking in the end.
  
  he also doesn't fuck with insects. especially the ones that can fly.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  special trick

  
  

  
  

  despite his distaste for his course, he's actually very good at mental math. call him a human calculator.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  likes

  
  

  
  

  night outs, theatre, "bullying" his peers, morning coffee ("the good shit, not that instant garbage"), smoking while looking out the window—plus points if it is raining.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  dislikes

  
  

  
  

  judgment among his peers (he can dish it out, but can't take it), orange juice with the pulp, the cold & snow, the sound of his voice on recordings, santa claus.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  habits

  
  

  
  

  he covers his face like a head smack to hide whenever he's laughing, a chronic eye-roller, taps his fingers against surfaces when he's in one place, also a foot tapper, the most variety of expressions you'll see from him is when he's reading, sticking out his tongue whenever he's being "attacked".

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
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  history.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  crying of cicadas

  
  

  
  
  
  

  the finch name was rooted in wealth. everyone knew that. generational wealth had built the cushy, lavish, penthouse on 5th avenue that chester called home. high ceilings, large windows, and beige walls; much like the penthouse, mr. and mrs. finch were boring. untouchable socialites among the new york scene yet lacked an ounce of "social" to them. though none could really blame them as being the proprietors of a chain of national banks didn't ensure personality as it did money.
  
  clarise finch's only personality trait was her bountiful shoe collection as a shopaholic "housewife". despite her being anywhere but home. while darius finch saw the world like a dog: monochromatic. if he ever made a decision that wasn't for the sake of business and profit, he had probably been drinking too much. the two married because it was the most logical decision; there was no boogie dancing in at a club or meet-cute at university. darius' father pointed her out on the headline of a tabloid celebrating a pointless achievement for her rich family, and darius was unphased at the prospect of calling her his wife. their respondents took the rails by then and before he knew it, he was getting a fitting for a suit.
  
  there was a time darius and clarise had loved each other, in their own peculiar way, they still did. however, profession and ambition had always been the utmost priority for the two. the idea to have a child was less for the appeal of growing a family, rather gain insurance for the future. darius had proposed the prospects of a child the day he saw a single gray hair in the mass of blonde hair his wife had.
  
  thus chester was born. the only child as his parents found it pointless to bare another if they already had a son on the first try.
  
  despite being the sole heir to a highly successful family business, the treasures the boy got from it were purely materialist. chester's childhood wasn't graced with hugs from mother or playing catch with father. don't ask him how it felt to have vacations with his family out of the country because all trips he made were with staff. maybe just not ask him about his childhood at all. because it was nannies as pseudo-parents, dinner alone on a long table, and boarding school by the 1st grade. it was a pathetic case of a little boy with all the toys in the world and no friend nor parent to show share them with. it was shit.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  buzzing of flies

  
  

  
  
  
  

  chester wouldn't recommend boarding school to even the kids of his worst enemies. the uniform itched and the food at the mess hall was often cold. people would think that a boarding school for nepotism babies would actually be fine but it wasn't. every waking moment he wanted the world to eat him whole and every moment asleep, he wanted to stay that way. chester was a teenager with a lot of parental issues—mommy, daddy, you name it. and mixing that with a secluded boarding school in the middle of europe resulted in the moody shitposter you see now. the only pros chester could remember were the freedom, the introduction to chainsmoking, and the theatre.
  
  getting a gig as a playwright for his school's drama department started off as a joke. with his dipshit dormmates sending in some of his writing as a make-shift audition. however, the line between a joke and genuine passion quickly faded when he reluctantly accepted. maybe it was the feeling of control and a growing god complex but for once, chester felt... nice.
  
  what could possibly go wrong with a hobby?
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  remains of butterflies

  
  

  
  
  
  

  a lot can go wrong with a hobby.
  
  so much that even after he managed to power through a full accountancy course, he found himself sending a formal email to his parents politely entitled, "bye bitches", and promptly never returning home ever since. he got his response via his credit cards being frozen and brief email back entitled "re: bye bitches" where his father's secretary concisely informed him that darius and clarise finch are disappointed by his actions and will be expecting his arrival soon. basically, they didn't believe a career as a playwright could get you anywhere, especially when he no longer had the resources to give him the extra edge.
  
  the calm before the storm, chester was fine. college proved to be insufferable but manageable with general electives being the only type of classes keeping him alive. (that and a lot of cigarette packs but he doesn't talk about it). he was just the hateful accountancy student, but what was new? every accountancy student had pent-up rage within them, unhappy that their life's work was meant to be numbers and sheets. chester was only lucky that he found haven in an albeit sleazy playwright he edited for. to him, it was a sign that he could make it big if he tried.
  
  thus in a matter of days, chester was barely a finch. and in all honesty, he just couldn't find it in him to care. he felt like robert frost hiking up the road not taken, on a completely new trail that made him feel *something*. he craved the refreshing taste like an addict. so when his friends suggested a trip to the rural countryside, chester quickly agreed.
  
  now what could actually go wrong?
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  i hope you eat shit and choke on it too. you're the stupidest person i've ever met.

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  i need a ride home.

  
  
  
  
  

  fuck it i'm on my way.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
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  connections.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  name here

  
  
  
  

  role/status

  
  
  
  

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed elementum nunc nec risus porta iaculis quis sit amet ante. Quisque eget est mauris. Curabitur posuere nibh nibh, ac maximus dolor vestibulum sed. Nullam ut nulla tincidunt, tincidunt mi ac, ullamcorper mi. In ultricies euismod fermentum. Nulla convallis nec sem sit amet porta. Morbi convallis ornare arcu quis commodo. Sed in luctus libero. Sed pretium malesuada nisl at laoreet.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  extra.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  question

  
  

  answer

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  cat people

  
  

  david bowie

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[PRETTY HATE MACHINE.]

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𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑱𝑶𝑬𝑳 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑪𝑬.

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬)

𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑪𝑬, 𝑴𝑨𝒀𝑩𝑬.

𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻𝒀-𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹.

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡

𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝟗𝑻𝑯, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟏.

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜

𝑳𝑰𝑩𝑹𝑨.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑬.

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻-𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑹, 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻-𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 "𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑮𝑼𝒀", 𝑭𝑼𝑳𝑳-𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑻.

𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻'𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑴 𝑻𝑶 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑴𝑨𝒀 𝑩𝑬 𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑰𝒁𝑬 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻. 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑲.

𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝑴𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑨, 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵. 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑨𝑩𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑳𝒀 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑰𝑻. 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑬𝑾 𝑴𝑨𝑱𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑫𝑰𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑯.

𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

6'1"

𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

180lbs.

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

Deep brown to black. Honestly, it just depends on the light. He usually lets it grow out to shoulder length before he even bothers taking scissors to it in the mirror and just randomly cutting it down until it looks passable.

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

Dark brown.

𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐬

Save for your basic lobe piercing in each ear, he doesn't really have much money to shell out for body mods. Though he would probably get a stick-and-poke in some rando's basement if it's free and he's drunk enough.

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦

Keanu Reeves.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

(+)

𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑮𝑶𝑰𝑵𝑮.
𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑪.
𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬.
𝑶𝑩𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑻.
𝑨𝑫𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑺.
𝑺𝒀𝑴𝑷𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑪.

(-)

𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑨𝑳.
𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬.
𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑩𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑵.
𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺.
𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺.
𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑺𝑬𝑬𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮.

extraverted


observant


feeling

PROSPECTING


Assertive


INTUITIVE

Standing at 6'1", long-legged Heritage possesses an oddly feminine softness to his conventional good looks. Long lashes frame dark eyes set under a sharp, slim brow. A multiracial background lends itself to a clear complexion that tans easily with just the right amount of time in the sun, but pales quickly under overcast gloom. The guy moves pretty fluidly, weaving through busy crowds and packed kitchens with the focus of somebody who lives a pretty active lifestyle outside of work - a thrillseeker that enjoys cliff-diving and racing around. His physique, while lean, is decently well-formed as a result.

Heritage prides himself on maintaining his zen under pressure. No stranger to life and all of the entitlement and confusion that comes with it - he begrudgingly keeps to "the customer is always right" in his professional life; but while he's good at saving face for the sake of it, he heavily values keeping genuine peace between others. Drama is a killer and he goes to great lengths to avoid it, which may mean at times that he'll completely step away from conflict if he thinks he's given it his best shot. He's good at turning on some superficial flattery and charm when he has to but doesn't lead anybody on if they'll end up getting hurt by it. Riling him up is easier said than done.

He considers himself friendly with most everyone, but genuine friends with very few. When you live the kind of transient lifestyle he does, it doesn't do well to form any sort of particularly strong bond. Can't take anyone with you when the walls start closing in and the town begins to choke you out. When it comes to strong negative emotional outbursts, he can be a bit awkward with trying to calm the distraught party down enough to talk. If you're looking for somebody to talk you down and rationalize, he's your guy. If you're looking for somebody to cry with you... best he can offer is a shoulder to cry on.

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫(𝐬)

His biggie is probably lapsing into the usual 9-to-5 life. A full-time job, a cookie-cutter suburban household with a wife that's beautiful but devoid of any personality, a couple of kids and an office cubicle waiting for him, etcetera cetera. Waking up every Sunday at 9AM to attend a church service then returning home to mow the lawn and invite a couple guys over to watch a football game, pissing contests over how much they hate the wives that they chose to marry. It honestly puts a lump in his throat just considering it. He values his freedom too much.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

BITCHIN' CAMARO!

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

Can roll the best J to ever grace your lips. Don't believe him? Join in for a smoke sesh.

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

❝Honestly, I think all of that lead paint on my sippy cups must've given me some kinda brain damage.❞

Heritage Sr. would probably admit to his kid being a surprisingly quiet toddler. If there was ever a tantrum thrown, he certainly wasn't there to see it - though he did have a problem with the strange fact that he was never really referred to as "dad". Spending his early childhood picking out wrenches and fiddling with the transistor radio when the old man was busy under a lifted hotrod, Heritage's very first memories are coated in grease - and more than his fair share of frustrated curses. Mom was never really around. Call it arrested development or something, but it seemed she never really grew out of the fast life. Yeah, she was there for a bit, lifting him up into her arms and dancing about the scrapyard boldly barefooted to The Monkees. Stuck around long enough to give him a lil' bro as well. Doesn't really matter why she took off, but she did, and his father - a usually gruff, conservative, pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kinda guy never really got over her.

Other than that? Yeah, his childhood was pretty run of the mill. Puppy love in elementary school, a roughhousing routine with the other boys in his Podunk midwestern town. Christ, the place didn't even have a dollar store. Just a small family grocer and a broke-down gas station with pumps that hadn't been upgraded since WWII.

❝Wanna hear about my teenage years before or after I discovered Richard Hell and the Voidoids? 'Cos those are two completely different kids.❞

He grew a bit more rebellious into his Sophomore year of highschool. He wouldn't call it rebellious, really, more like just bored out of his gourd. His school attendance was pretty grievous - though you can get by with anything if you're a good enough bullshitter, and his memory was just sharp enough to regurgitate all the right answers back onto a standardized test. His time was often spent about thirty minutes outside of town with a few other kids from school - beater car idling, doors open to let the sweet sounds of KDXX-FM! blast. Skinny-dipping in the lake, laying back over the hood with a lazy smile below his sunglassed eyes and a joint in his free hand. Sounds real cool, right? Like he'd be the guy people pass in the hallway and offer high-fives to? Honestly, he was a bit of a geek. Lanky and too reserved for his own good. These moments were only attended with by a small circle of close friends. Suppose even then he didn't really like to spread himself too thin.

September '78. Sweet sixteen. Heritage was elbow-deep within the bowels of a totaled '65 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am, across from him stood his father. Overbearing as always, barking orders at him between the cigarette in his teeth. He can remember even then what was playin' on the radio, even. Surrender. Cheap Trick. Seemed to be the perfect backdrop to his father's insistence to grab something good while he was in there. Sometimes the parts are worth more than their sum.

He's not sure what exactly it was about that seemingly average day among many. Maybe it was the looming threat of living a slow, boring life. Living with his father until the guy's old enough to forget his own name. He was already little more than a pair of hands anyway. What would change if he kept giving jack shit?

*record scratch* ❝Yup. That's me. You're probably wondering how I got myself into this situation... and I'll tell you exactly how. I literally just cannot fucking help myself.❞

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[ravensunset]

Zoey Calvert

# erin kellyman

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[cherriesandwine.]

guinevere arwen

the skeptic

fc. daisy edgar jones

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ThAtGuY101]

NAME: Dole Copper
NICKNAME:
D.O.B: June 9th
AGE: 24
GENDER: Male/He/Him
ORIENTATION: Straight

APPEARANCE: Dole is a white, fairly pale lad with freckles and bright red hair. He stands at 5'9" ft andis fairly thin. His eyes are mint green just like his father. His cheekbones are high and his chin comes to a point like his mother. His hair is very short. About an inch long and neatly combed to the right and a clean shaven face.
FACECLAIM:

PERSONALITY: Dole is a friendly lad. A bit awkward and has poor social skills. He spent most of highschool and college studying which didn't leave him much time to develop many friendships. He also has an awkward wheezing laugh and is sometimes slow to react to jokes or will laugh at his own jokes even if nobody else is.

He can also be a try hard when it comes to stuff he cares about which leads to him being over critical and a bit insecure or nitpicky. Dole is an easily confused man other times. He over thinks situations quite a bit or occasionally gets stick on random details.

His greatest fear is failure. He strives to achieve his goals and becomes stressed put and self conscious when he fails. Doubting his decision making and general capabilities. Which only grow worse when he fails multiple times.

HISTORY: Dole grew up in Cut and Shoot Texas. His father was a butcher working at a deli and his mother was a clerk at a gas station at the same store. Dole grew up in a regular public school. He was poked fun at for valuing grades more than sports. He was on the junior high basketball team as well as cross country. Arguably the best at cross country in his school. However his true achievements were his academic ones. Because of his high grades, he also ran a study club to help his fellow strugling high school students. His grades were top of the class. Graduated highschool as valedictorian. He still kept in contact with a few of his friends via email as he gave them tips and advice during their time in college.

He went to college on full scholarship, everything paid for, and he worked his ass off to prove he deserved it. His folks were surprised he'd be traveling so far to go to college, but he did great. He had sent all sorts of letters to his parents. His parents sent him all sorts of stuff from home, bringing a little bit up texas up north. He enjoyed his time in college. He wasn't valedictorian of his college year, but he was close! After graduating from college, the devil went down to Georgia and he was looking for a soul to steal he agreed to go down to Georgia with some friends he met in college. This seemed like it would be an interesting trip.

 

[Aeris]

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Claire Everett

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© weldherwings.

 

[Ego]

The Serious one(Final touches)
Name-Issac Price
Nickname-None that he accepts(But his friends call him Zac)
Date of birth- January 9th
Age-23
Gender-Male
Orientation-Bisexual


Personality-Issac is a straight laced man that seems to avoid fun. He tends to be quiet only giving his input when he's absolutely sure of things. He isn't averse to social interaction but he also doesn't actively seek it so he comes across as cold if not antisocial. He values discipline, he's the type who needs things to be done in a methodical order which sometimes leads to him clashing with the other more carefree members. He is easily annoyed when people don't show up on time or when things don't go according to plan.

Due to his straight laced attitude he tends to be blunt and to the point choosing not to ramble on. If he doesn't like someone he'll say it to their face. But when he's with friends he's slightly more sociable, he may even laugh at a few jokes. He cherishes his friendships but he'd rather keep that to his self.

Greatest fear- Coulrophobia(Fear of clowns)-At some point in his childhood his older siblings had taken him to watch a horror film, he was about 6 at the time and the movie had left an impact on his psyche. Since that day he's had occasional nightmares involving clowns invoking primal dread as he wakes up profusely sweating.


History-Issac price was born to a pair of workaholics. Due to his parents prioritising work over him he does resent them a bit, though it's not something he brings up often.He's had experience being alone enough so that he doesn't mind it as much anymore, on the contrary he feels calmer when alone.

As a student he was above average as he put in the effort when needed as he knew to get things done on time. His social life was dull as he wasn't much of a fan of socialising and small talk, he would show up for group events all alone which led to his current friends getting curious about him and reaching out.

Due to his nature his friends had to take some effort in convincing to tag along but as you guessed he eventually yielded. He's looking forward to the trip to Georgia even though he doesn't outwardly express it.

 

[demonology]

birdie gish-sato

a game of kitsune with a defrosting wooly mammoth

♡coded by uxie♡