Locked Doors (For lack of a better title.)

Character Sheet

Name: Dmitri Mendovski
Gender: Male
Age: 41 (I'll explain it in the rest of the sheet)
Appearance:

Dmitri's around 6'2, with a slightly chubby build. He's not out of shape by any means, but just seems to be a jolly old aging guy. He has a beard that's starting to gray a bit and a bushy mustache that moves rather amusingly when he talks. His head is grayer than his facial hair, balding a bit in the center.

His face...egh. He wears an eyepatch over one eye, which is really nice, because underneath it is just an empty socket. Stretching on either side of the socket are these nice jagged scars, and on his neck, arms, and legs scars dance across his flesh. Pleasant.

He's fairly pale, not really tan, so he can look a bit ghastly at times, but he usually has such a big smile that it puts it off. Normally he's wearing his little hat and white apron, which is stained with various ice creams.

Personality:

He's very enigmatic. He's quite wise, perhaps not intelligent, but very wise, and seems to understand people and grasp their viewpoints easily. He's full of those wise sayings that are just as maddeningly irritating as they are helpful, and he has a bit of trouble grasping obvious jokes and entendres.

He's quite nice, but very quiet. He doesn't talk too much unless a conversation is brought up with him, but isn't harsh by any means. He's very gentle, in his mannerisms and in the way he talks, giving him a rather calming effect on most people.

He's religious, as indicated by the tiny golden cross that dangles from his neck, and usually carries around a pocket size Bible with him, pulling it out and donning his monocle when he has nothing else to do. He tries to be a good witness, but when angered he usually loses it. As in goes batshit furious.

Bio:

Dmitri emigrated from Mother Russia when he was young, grabbing a golden oppurtunity to escape the icy barrens that was Pripyat. He made his way to the states and...promptly fell in with the wrong crowd. Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, he started going through them all, banging more women than he could count. It was the materialistic, bad side of life. He dropped out of school sophomore year, could barely write his name in English.

Years passed. Money was made through drugs and he spent time in jail, about seven or eight years total. It wasn't until he was mid-way through his twenties when he really looked around. Holy f*ck, this is my life. He tried to give everything up; the drugs clawed at him, the sickening lure of money ate away, the women grabbed him and wouldn't let go. The last one more literally, perhaps.

So he wallowed, albeit uneasily, in crime and filth for the next few years. Finally, he broke it off. He'd worked his way pretty well into the gang, rolling in money that gangs in big cities have. You can't just walk out of a gang. He tried to leave, and things got messy.

Namely, involving an eye. They came after him; his talk of going straight and finding Jesus, whom he'd largely ignored since he was a child worried them. They felt he was going to the cops, and when they found him, they ambushed him. They shoved a knife through his eye, cutting him bad elsewhere, and told him if he spoke a word to anyone, they'd kill him.

He didn't have to worry. Bleeding and whimpering to the hospital, he fell and hit his head. The trauma left him dazed and disoriented, and the lights from an oncoming car left him blinded for a little while. Someone took pity on him and got him to the hospital, the nurses managing to fix him up. His eye was no good, but that didn't matter.

Discipline, he decided. That was what he needed. He went for the Army but, understandably, couldn't be a soldier due to having one eye. he got trained nonetheless, cooking meals and cleaning hallawys. He stayed around for a few years, getting a nice bit of money saved up and learning better English.

When he returned, he was something of a new man. Time in the Army had rather painfully broken his addictions, given him order, and a feeling of control over him. No half naked woman commanded him, no filthy needle ruled him. Too late for college or high school, and bordering on his mid-thirties, he worked as a janitor for a while. Very few places wanted him, with the scary eyepatch and the criminal record.

Finally, he made it straight. He hooked up with an ice cream truck business and found he really enjoyed it. His job was nothing more than going around and making people happy. It felt like a nice change from his violent youth, and he felt he'd escaped it for the most part.

Important Details:
-Decent with a firearm, although he dislikes violence now.
-Very street smart.
-Ice cream truck driver.
-General, all-around nice guy.


Writing Sample:


The Glock rang out with a loud bang, immediately followed by a shriek and a THUMP of a body rather quickly meeting the ground. Dmitri spun around, quickly looking for anyone else, but he saw no one. Down an alley littered with red light whores and drunken vagrants, he half ran, half pushed his way to the other side.

Damn. The boss's red Ferrari was waiting, engines running. Before he even thought to raise his Glock, five of the men rolled out, pistols and shotguns leveled at his head.

Is this really the end? he thought. All my life just led up to this. He could only think of the wasted time, what if he'd just stayed in school, not fucked everything the way he had.

Their leader stepped out out of the back, easily one of the more wealthy men in town if not the most upstanding. He waved his hand and the loyal lapdogs lowered their arms.

"I don't think he's going to run to the police. Dmitri's too smart for that, Russian bitch that he is." he nailed Dmitri with a punch, faster than he could react, and his cheek hit filthy gutter water. Spitting out blood, the man kicked him in the gut, knocking the wind from him and leaving him coughing.

Agonized, he feebly lifted an arm, which was just pushed aside. The tuxedoed man knelt over him, pounding him over, and ogver, and over. Dmitri's world was graying, his vision was blurred and he felt blood leaking from his bruised face. Only vaguely could he see the man pull out a knife, serrated the glinting in the streetlights.

A burning fire from his eye jolted him back to reality, and screaming like a little girl Dmitri squirmed, trying to kick this bastard off of him. The mooks srambled over, holding him down as the man pulled his eye out, admiring his handiwork.

"See you later, svoloch. You speak a word, Dmitri, and I'll cut you open. Starting with your feet. You'll watch your intestines pour out your body and the last thing you'll see is your still beating heart being torn out, veins and arteries soaked with your blood lying next to your feet.Not a fun way to die. Not a fun way to die at all."

Really sh*tty sample, sorry.

viollyn wrote:

MAIL IS NOT A GENDER FAGGOT

That is the fourth time I have been called a Fag in a week... Three were by my sister... So I thank you for that.

Fix'd. But still not done revising my lengthy writing sample.

The capacity of the english language to pervert the common phraseology of other cultures into insults and curses never fails to astound me. Allow me to demonstrate:
In England, a 'faggot' is the term for a cigarette, or any short-handled or handheld tobacco product.
In Olde English, the term 'gay' meant simply 'happy'.
And time was, when someone said there was a 'skank' or 'tramp' on the streets, it referred to a stray dog and nothing more.

I apologize for the english lesson, but 'faggot' is one of the few terms that I will not abide to be bandied about wantonly.

I'm allowed to call people faggots because I am one shh. Don't give me English lessons because I'm pretty sure I have enough knowledge on the subject to be I don't even know but I'm smart so shoosh. Quite.

And Shade I enjoy your ice cream man a great deal.

Psycho Wizard wrote:

>>> Z... Link? <<<

Forumotion is a bunch of weirdos that like Google maps. No I do not know where you live, but I know where your internet service provider lives.

Not done but what the hell. ^.^


Name: Shawn Masterson
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Appearance: A short kid, standing at around 5' 8". Has long, straightened, black hair and green-brown eyes. He wears contacts, standard vision ones you know. He has tan skin, that is scarred and cut from... things. No crazy scars in the shape of a snake or anything, but some burns in the shape of a lighter head, cuts around his hands, wrist, and up his arms, from razer blades, barbed and razer wire, glass shards, knifes of various kinds, etc. Some self inflicted, others not. He is not exactly ripped, but he certainly is no weakling. He chews his fingernails, though few people would notice that. Now onto his threads.
Lets start from the bottom with his shoes. Easy, black skater shoes, fairly worn out so the manufacturer is almost indestinguishable. Black and White striped socks, though you can't see them under his baggy carpenter jeans. The grey denim pants have cuts and stuff on them, rips, tears, and some burn spots. He has these attached to his waist with a belt, one of those cloth ones, which is dark green with purple stripes. He bought it long, so it hangs out a bit. He wears a heavy, zippered, hooded jacket, it is this weird purple color, almost the same as the belt, and has a spray-painted on symbol on it. It is his symbol, or so he says. Under his jacket he wears a white shirt, that was mistakenly thrown in with a red shirt, and turned a pink. The shirt is fairly new, and still fits, though it is torn near the sleeve from a nasty piece of fence.
Ah finally we have reached Other. The part of the description where I tell you all about his piercings, tattoos, and other body mutilation he has. First off, he has a couple earings in his right ear, about five connected to the cartilage. He also has a piercing in his left nose thing, and a piercing that is almost closed up in his lip. On to Tattoos, right? Well, he has only one, which is his symbol on the back of his neck, Tattoos are expensive, so it is once again black, just black.
Personality: (My (least) favorite part.) God I hate this... Is there any chance that I can just use the Writing Sample for this... Please? Pretty please? I love u forever?
Bio: Pretty much one of those, "Been there, Done that" lives. He was born in Salem, Oregon, yeah pretty far from West Virginia, and his life was pretty humdrum there. He hung with the wrong crowd, got into some trouble. Parents moved, him away from that trouble/crowd/state. They set up shop in Denver, and he found trouble again. The rents put up with it for a while, then they moved again. And again. And finally once more, to Cleveland, Ohio. "But that's not Calgury!" you say? Well. I am not done yet. This time, he nearly stayed out of trouble, tried his hardest, and still got into trouble. Different trouble, worse than before, and it affected far more people than just him and the people he hung out with. No, his parents did not choose to move. They had to, after the house was burned down. That was the last straw for his parents and their marriage. He had never thought of that, but oh well. His mother blamed his dad for everything, naturally, and his dad blamed him for everything. He went with his mom. Dad went to live with his parents down in Florida. Mom went to live with her parents in Calgary. And though he started to get in trouble when he was only 13, he had managed to move himself all the way from Oregon, to West Virginia in a matter of three years. Impressive, really. He couldn't care less, honestly.
Important Details: He is pretty smart, but no rocket scientist. Nothing ever seems to affect him, but he bottles it up until it just explodes, violently. Because his house burned down around him, he has a slight fear of catching on fire, understandable right? And finally, he is just a tiny bit fanguy on some stuff. You'll know when I do. *shrug*
Writing Sample: This is the entry in his video journal on the day he moved to Calgary, which strangely coincided with the first day of school with him being a junior. Four paragraphs enough?

The stream began with a flicker of the screen, static for a second then a young man sitting in a leather office chair. The off-white walls seemed to be natural and not a trick of the light or camera. A poster of Japanese symbols were over his left shoulder, and as he stared at the screen momentarily, his hair moved into his eyes. He pulled it out and began his Video Journal.
"Testing... Ok, so it is 6:14 AM. I am tired as hell, having just moved from Ohio." The young man says. "The date is of course, August 18th, and it will be the first full day I have lived in Calgary. Bleh. I hate how that sounds. Anyway-" A voice is faintly heard from beyond the door which is behind the teen. He gets up, not bothering to pause the video. Though it could only just be made out earlier, it is now revealed that the teen is infact not wearing a shirt. Not surpising for August. Around his neck hung the necklace he hardly ever removed. His symbol discernable from the weaved together copper wire, that made up the actual necklace part.
"Shawn! Hurry up! You cannot be late for the first day of school!" The teen, now revealed to be Shawn, just rolls his eyes and yawns. He yells something back, which is not completely heard by the cheap microphone. Probably a good thing as more yelling takes place. He pulls his head back into his room and shuffles through some heavy dresser drawers.
Shawn grabs a shirt and starts to put it on before reaching onto the keyboard and pressing pause.
There is a flicker on the screen and the same young man as before sits down, setting a bowl of ramen noodles down as well. "It is now 4 something PM. I-" He sucks on his teeth, sighing after words. "-Had an interesting day. Lets start from the top, I was late. Yes, only a minute, but nonetheless I was late. What was bad though was walking into your Triginometry class late, everyone in the class had their eyes on me. When you try to remain as invisible as possible, that can be a bad thing." Shawn picked up some more noodles with his fork and slurped them into his mouth. "Ok. So what was I-. Oh yeah, Trig. It wasn't bad other than that. I sat next to some kids, I guess they were juniors like me. They asked a couple questions, then I asked one. It was answered with a bit of discussion until they all agreed, so I guess they were friends or something, or maybe they just knew each other very well." He raises his hand to his chin, where he rubs it, then reaches over the keyboard again. Pausing once more.
Flicker and he appears again, a time stamp on the upper right hand corner reveals it was only three minutes after the end of the last one. Shawn is looking down in his lap, kind of like he is struggling. There is a click and a hiss. And he pulls out a Mountain Dew, swallowing down a few mouthfuls before looking back at the screen, or webcam. "Oddly enough, I had atleast on of those kids in all of my classes, so either the Junior class is fairly small, or they are around my level of intelligence. Well. Ok, I exagerated, it wasn't that bad. But that drive was long, and I am tired. So... Good night." He drinks the rest of the Dew and crushes the can, throwing it into a trash can next to his chair with a resounding clank. He clicked his mouse a few times, until his favorite music came on, but it was barely audible on the video. He waves at the camera, a final click was made and the stream ended.

Finished. But... I feel my writing sample has degraded a great deal after Revising it...

Viollyn, that wasnt directed at you. It was in all honesty more for me than anything else, as I wrote it at 2am. Sorry if you felt insulted by it.

And do we have enough people to get going, or do we need one more? I would think, based on past experience, that 5 should be enough...

It's chill. My reply was written around four. Derr derr.

And yeah. I'll go make the IC now because I'm bored as fuck. Erryone is accepted.

Name: Katelyn Winter

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Appearance: Katelyn, or Kate, is not the sort of girl you’d notice first if she was in a group or even if she was on her own, depending on the location. She’s only 5’7” is around average weight, just where she should be in that lovely, uninteresting 50th percentile. She’s not especially attractive either, this isn’t to say she is unattractive and she could be very attractive on her own if she tried but those around tend to come out as more attractive, especially since they usually are.

The problem for Kate is that many people in this world, and the place she lives in and goes to school at, look for the tall, big breasted, blonde girls, especially if they are a little air-headed and either follow boys around all day or do stereo-typical girly things.
Katelyn’s not that tall, her breasts are small enough to be considered almost flat-chested unless she’s wearing very little, she has brown hair of a surprising length, a mahogany brown she’s fond of she must admit, which is usually tied back.
Where her face is concerned she doesn’t have those “pretty” large eyes with long, fluttery eyelashes. She has what could be called sharp eyes, which could be used to impale someone quite effectively; they are cool grey flecked with brown, sitting on either of side of her well-proportioned yet equally sharp nose.
All of this sits above her mouth with its lips which aren’t full, with one corner always pulled up in a slight, almost mocking smile.

Where the rest of her is concerned well her arms and legs are well proportioned, her stomach is flat but hides packs of strong, well developed muscles which sometimes pop through as a nice little six-pack, which could put boys to shame, when she’s engaging in strenuous physical work.
Her shoulders are the same; broad, and hiding well developed muscles. All of this detracting from an otherwise very feminine appearance and giving her a slight masculine hint.

Like any civilised human being Katelyn wears clothes to cover that faintly bronzed skin she has. She goes out of her way to show that she’s girl, for reasons which will be shown later on.
Kate’s all in favour of proper “girly” clothing and that’s often what she wears although she is sometimes seen wearing more “boyish” clothing.
It’s normally knee-length or above skirts, of most varieties, blouses or shirts with the occasional pair of trousers or jeans and of course the occasional casual dress. She normally wears either flowery, or other girl orientated patterns, or more commonly; subdued colours and tones. She doesn’t wear much in the way of make-up normally although she will go to some effort to make her hair obviously belong to a girl.

Personality: Katelyn is nice enough most people presume. She’s usually quite friendly if a little bit competitive and occasionally overly-judgemental. She’s not the most popular girl you’ll meet, she’s neither attractive enough or conformist enough. Her underlying intelligence and an ability to be good at many of the things she may try her hand at occasionally shines through her concealing layer of ease and lack of concern.
Well, lack of concern about most things. She has two small main friendship groups, one of a group of girls she gets on well with and one of a group of boys who do a similar activity to her. With the girls she’s usually nicer, a little more open but also a little disparaging of the more popular girls who she can get on with but not get too friendly with. With the boys she’s more aggressive, a little more assertive and perhaps a little more masculine. Her sarcasm and mockery shows through more often and she abides more to the group behaviour of being less accepting to outsiders unless they can prove themselves to them.

The problem the most popular people have with her, unless the girls need help with work, is that she just doesn’t envy them, nor is she jealous or wistful. She can’t bring herself to care that much about the top of the social heap and instead cares more about her little section a little further down it.
The problem the boys have is that she isn’t prepared to conform or hang over them when they snap their fingers; she’s more likely to break those fingers instead.
The most popular girls feel much the same way as they do.

Bio: Katelyn’s British, she’s got that crisp, clean English accent which can be called Queen’s English. Her perfect pronunciation of words, her insistence on spelling everything the English way, which is the proper way of course, does make her stand out from the Americans around her. Usually for a little bit of teasing and counter-mockery.
She was born and did live in Mid-England until she was much older, as in fifteen much older. There she went to an all-girls private school. Then her mother, who was a career woman, got a promotion in the large corporation she worked for and had to move to America, Calgary to be specific. Her father, being the sort of man he was, immediately went along with his wife and helped move the three of them to West Virginia where they bought a small sub-urban house.

Katelyn fit in with local school almost immediately and instantly started making friends, though no enemies unusually. While she found it difficult to adapt to a mixed school, she still hasn’t finished adapting even two years later, she manages well enough. In England she was a competitive swimmer, a very good swimmer and so when they moved to the city that was the first thing she sought out, another club.
She also found the nearest climbing walls and good locations to climb since that was the other sport she was very good at and was also at a competition level in that. She quickly proved herself to the local climbing group at the school, who were all boys it must be mentioned, and they accepted her into their group. After applying a few nicknames relating to her climbing ability.
The other thing Kate was good at was music. Though she had to leave her first instruments with extended family in Britain.
While Katelyn’s mother does make just enough money to sustain the family at its current level, her father still hasn’t found a job yet and so she has no pocket money, or the available supplies of the richer kids. Because of this she works hard at the sports to win competitions for the monetary prizes, so she has something to spend on herself.

The one problem that she has which actually really irritates her is that she’s overlooked. Not in the normal way but when she’s hanging out with the boys, and even sometimes the girls, they often forget she’s girl especially when a more attractive and obviously girly looking girl is around. She has some idea how they can forget but it drives her around the bend regardless.

Important Details: British, is a superb swimmer and climber, good musician, gets pretty good grades at school, is otherwise unremarkable

Writing Sample:
Despite the time outside the indoor climbing wall centre was well lit, built inside an old swimming pool. It was getting quiet chilly as well considering the weather outside and though the coloured holds, relating to problems, were getting quite cold even with use the climbers didn’t care. One group in particular was dominating the floor of the pool, almost entirely comprised of boys calling support to one of their friends.
“Come on! Just Dino it!” One of them called out, a grin splitting his face as made a leaping action with his arms, his obvious upper-arm muscles rippling as he did so.
“Push with your feet and fall on it! You’re tall enough! Come on do it!” Another called, equally muscular, to the sweating boy on the wall who was gingerly reaching out to a hold just out of reach above him.
The call for him to “Dino it” was taken up by most of the group and in the end the poor boy was pressured into trying to leap up to it, he missed and dropped to the floor below with a resounding thump followed by a groan as he pulled a bag of chalk out from under him.
“Agh! Come on! What was that half-hearted attempt!” the first one lectured him before getting on to the wall to show him how to do it and successfully finishing the leap before dropping to the floor and into a crouch.
“See! Easy!” He said, patting the other boy on the head.
The only girl in the group stood up, wearing loose, beige trousers and a dark green tank-top with a red rope around her waist suspending a small bag of chalk balls. Like the boys she had tight fitting climbing shoes except her was had some pink panels in the black instead of orange or blue, she was a girl after all. What made her stand out as a girl, apart from the fact that her small breasts were a more obvious in the tank top, was that she had ridiculously long brown hair tied in a braid which was tucked down the back of the top to stop it swinging about freely while she climbed.
“You can do that… Or you can go the other way with some crimping and pinching and then barn-door the over-hang to finish it. Or you can-” She said in a instructing yet thoughtful and slightly bored manner.
“Woah! Kat! Not all of us can do that crazy shit!” The boy who had been showing off said, “I mean, you murder pretty much any challenge you take on!”
Kat snorted in derision but it was too late for the two boys as the rest of group started encouraging her to show them how to do it. Some of them still didn’t believe she could do that while others were envious of her ability.
Shrugging her broad shoulders she sat down at the start of the wall before pulling herself up, in a graceful manner to the second set of holds. From there she darted up the wall, in a quite graceful manner, revealing that not only was she almost as strong as the boys, she was lighter and more flexible allowing her to do some things they couldn’t. Finally she got to the point where the boy had gotten stuck before going more slowly over how she thought he should have done it, all to the encouragement of her fellow climbers below. Eventually she was hanging from the middle of the arch by two hands, explaining how to get to the next bit using the feet, which she said was easier for him since he was taller than her, when one of the boys below, who was looking up at her, started to laugh and almost giggle.
“You can see her tits from here!” He said to the others and beckoned them over. Some started to scramble across to him when, with a steely glare, Kat pulled one of the harder balls of chalk out of her bag leaving only one finger in the hold above her. She then threw it at him hard and caught him square in the face, bowling him over backwards. The others began to laugh at him for being stupid like that.
The boy who had fallen off looked at her in awe as she dropped down and grabbed the ball of chalk before looking up at the other boy who had a faint look of pride on his face.
“How does she do that?” he asked, sitting up.
“Ah… Well she’s a demon ain’t she? No one can beat her when she’s on the rock face.” He nodded to himself as though confirming what he’d just said and watched as she held the poor, unfortunate lad down to the mat and forcefully rubbed the chalk all over his face, to the cheers of the others, while the lad flailed unable to do anything.

'cepted

viollyn wrote:

I'm allowed to call people faggots because I am one shh. Don't give me English lessons because I'm pretty sure I have enough knowledge on the subject to be I don't even know but I'm smart so shoosh. Quite.

And Shade I enjoy your ice cream man a great deal.

Osaka, that could be taken many ways, I'm afraid.

That was the point.

Name: Murtagh Candle

Gender: Brony

Age: 19

Appearance: Murtagh stands at 6'3" and weigh about 120, so obviously, he is kind of skinny and tall. His hair was originally styled into a long side fringe and is dyed an obnoxious bright red, but is now very fuzzy - almost puffed out everywhere like mother fucking Einstein, not kidding. His face is a little thin, but still pronounced. He has a noticeable jaw-line and a semi-large Adam's apple. His face always holds a certain kind of expression that you know whatever you say isn't going to bother him, and he most likely isn't going to give two fucks nor one. He's probably high or drunk half the time, but not in public too often.

His eyes were never your typical normal colored blue, brown or green eyes. In fact, they're amber! Like, golden-ish brown. However, he does wear a pair of red contacts, like high contrast blood red, scarlet red (whatever you want to call it red) contacts. If they freak people out too much, or if the school asks him to, he will remove them. Unfortunately, his eyes are paired with a couple of bags that are barely visible but there all the same. He also has shark bites on his bottom lip, which aren't just balls but more along the lines of spiked studs. His skin is also ridiculously pale despite how often he goes outside. He simply doesn't tan easily - in fact, he burns. Which is why he's always covered in clothes.

He has a semi-long neck, which he managed to get tribal looking tattoos without his mom's permission, which seriously got him in trouble. They look like your typical tribal tattoo except that it goes around his neck and shoulders, yet stops at his color bone, never touching his throat. Because that would hurt like hell. His has strong broad shoulders paired with a strong chest, though he's a bit scrawny. He wears a red shirt with a black Haste the Day's logo on it, semi-abstract: a skeleton of a hawk and some feathers, covered by a thick black wool coat. There isn't much design on it, but it's heavy and warm and actually looks kind of attractive on him.

He wears trip pants, which he literally almost trips on them all the time, which resulted in a few tears near the bottom but he doesn't seem to mind however. The primary color is black, obviously with the bottom of the pant legs all frayed and slightly torn. The secondary color is scarlet looking red with chains hooking from pocket to pocket. There are a few stray threads here and there because his friend's cat like to climb all over him and wrestle with Murtagh.

He also has a black belt that has metal rings slapped across it with two rows of metal rings. There are two pins to go through two loops instead of one. It's a pretty cool belt which keeps his pants from falling. After all, trip pants are kind of hard to wear without them falling due to being all heavy and crap. He also has black fingerless gloves made of wool, as you can imagine, can make you rather warm. He hasn't touched his fingernails with nail polish or anything but one of his lady friends has been asking if she could do that to him lately... no I'm just kidding. He's not a fan of nail polish, really. Or eye liner. Or shadow. He doesn't really like makeup altogether, really...

He has a normal, typical black hoodie, nothing too exciting to mention. The kind with the strings that can tighten the hood so nobody can see his face. It seems he really likes it and often hides his face for entertainment, or if he's shy. Or when he's flat out bored. He often rolls the sleeves up to his elbows when it isn't cold enough for full sleeves. If he's not wearing his hoodie, it's probably tied around his waist or he's wearing his black leather jacket, or even his wool one. He only has both of these on a really cold day, like if it's snowing or something. If it's warmer, he doesn't really wear the wool coat and normally just wears the hoodie. His right wrist has a single black band around it. It's actually a hair band, but he just has that there because.

He has a pair of converse, black with the white trim and "toe guard". However he had his friends write their names on it with a sharpie color of their choice for fun, so as you can imagine, there is a whole bunch of scribbles and colors which is kind of fun when you look at them. Sometimes he even lets strangers write on his shoes, which probably isn't wise, but whatever. The skin on his face is fair, devoid of acne, facial hair, his teeth is white and his hair isn't greasy - all of which are signs of a healthy hygiene, but he isn't a freak about it like some people. Heck, he even goes to bed with his clothes on sometimes and sometimes wears the same clothes for two or three days in a row, but three days is kind of rare. That kind of stuff happens when he's unable to clean his clothes.

Personality: Murtagh is a fine guy to hang around if you want a good time. He has a happy disposition, and is sometimes considered happy-go-lucky. He likes jokes, climbing trees, and absolutely hates being contained - which can show how rebellious he can be. Another sign? Sometime he sneaks out in the middle of the night and gets drunk with friends. Again, Murtagh doesn't make the best decisions, but he's a cool guy. He is alright with small spaces, sort of. If people are around, he's fine. If it's hide and seek he likes enclosed spaces, or if there's a party going on in a ten foot in diameter room he'll act all goofy. But he hates being inside with nobody around, it's just the silence and small areas... it's just weird to him. He likes spacious areas. This is what it seems however. He gives off a few signs that he likes being alone just as much as he doesn't which tends to screw with people's minds sometimes. So they tend to not ask.

When he's happy... Well, he's almost always happy, so nyeah. He's semi hyper active. Really though, it depends. If he's cooped up in that jail cell, he'll try to stay cool, think happy thought, smile for no reason, or maybe try to hold a silent conversation with someone, perhaps even make a joke or two. Other times he's either really stoned, high, or slightly drunk. There aren't that many times where he's completely wasted, but don't put it past him, because it is bound to happen one of these days.

You hardly ever see him angry, but when he is, it's likely for good reason, but of course that isn't excusable. He'll tell them straight-up and not dealing with anger that much he has a hard time controlling it. Sad, even less so. People often don't see him said unless a pet/family member/friend dies or if one of those three genres are sick. People see him cry even less. But it has most certainly happened. More often than you think.

He isn't atheist, but agnostic. He isn't religious, but holds no claims against either side. He simply doesn't know he says. There may or may not be a god, but one shouldn't start a war over such silly things. A belief is a belief. Changing a belief is changing a person. That's his view on religion. View on politics? Two monkeys in tuxedos arguing over something that cannot be fixed. He says that and nothing more. Moving on.
He isn't very good at Math, but is better a Science and English. History, he's meh. He doesn't care for fractions and division, but he likes to know how things work and what triggers the events in the world. As for English, he sometimes says that "Txt" messaging is probably one of the worst things ever, mostly because it is stupid and he can't understand a thing they are saying.

As for fears, he's mostly afraid of heights but not that much. Mostly his imagination, because when he walks at night, his imagination goes crazy making him think and see things that aren't really there and giving him false feelings of insecurity. But nonetheless, he's afraid of practically nothing other than being alone. Just because his imagination goes rampant at night and he sees things that aren't really there. He has unfortunately picked up the bad habit of underage smoking (normally just pot) and drinking(normally vodka and shit mixed with vodka). Which is probably because how much is resembles water and how easy it is to hide. He also kind of likes the taste of it. He likes a lot of other alcoholic drinks though such as beer or wine, or even champagne even though the odds of him having a bottle of that is incredibly slim. Unless someone happens to be trying to woo him or something. Hey, have you ever had vodka mixed with Monster? Ohohoh...

Bio: Lazy ass roleplayer, he was born, normal life, shit happened, no dad, single mom, rebellious teen, drugs and alcohol, here he is.

Important details: An administrator loves you, don't take it for granted.

Writing sample: If I am confident enough in my roleplaying abilities to make a forum and convince the majority of what is left of the decent roleplayers to migrate here, fuck you, I don't need this, and neither do you.

'cepted of course

I must admit, I am not proud of my first post.

Seems fine to me...

Do we need a short time skip or something?

SHAZZAM


I THOUGHT MY COMPUTER DELETED IT AND I PANICKED.

Name: Todd Riley
Gender: Male :I
Age: 16
Appearance: Well Todd’s about your average sixteen year old guy height. And because I absolutely suck at heights that’s all I’m going to say on that. His hair is just a little less than shoulder length. Yeah it’s like hard to explain, but it’s not too short or too long. It’s a very dark brown colour; though it isn’t so dark you would get it mixed up with black, though in the light the brown would stick out rather well. His fringe is long enough too hide his eyes, though it is often swept to the side so you can see both eyes. Cause you know, he likes to be able to see. Or rather appear like he can see. It does annoy him whenever people ask ‘Can you even see?’ if his hair is covering his eyes. Because yes of course he can see perfectly well – it isn’t as hard as it looks. Though it is likely if he wants to appear unnoticed, is embarrassed or something of the like, his hair will almost definitely be covering his face.
His eyes are a rather dark green colour, nothing much special about them. All they do for him is see. And he’s like one of those hairless cats. Seriously I can’t even explain this but no beard or anything even grows for him. Just pale skin. Though it does have a small tan here and there, so no he is not going to sparkle for you in the sun. If it weren’t for his height he probably wouldn’t appear anything near the age he is.
He is almost ALWAYS wearing a light blue scarf. It’s really soft and warm and cosy and well everything. Why the hell would you not want to wear it god sakkkeeee. Plus it’s so fashionable and stuff. Or well that’s how he sees it occasionally. His shirt is well, almost completely white aside from the black Space Invader in the middle of it. That game is awesome and nostalgic to him. No he doesn’t play any of your high tech Xbox 360’s and PS3’s. Nope. Stick to our Game boy’s, Arcade Games and all that jazz. 8 Bit games and all. Space Invader is certainly his favourite game, made obvious from his shirt. The sleeves are also short, so yeah you can see his random wristbands a black and blue one on his left arm, one black on his right. His skinny jeans are just dark blue, nothing interesting here unless you have some fetish for skinny jeans. And of course his shoes are candy red. The one thing that DEFINITELY sticks out. He finds them so cool though so why the hell not~
and then there is a picture if that was all completely shit -
https://2img.net/h/oi40.tinypic.com/6tkavr.png
Personality: ALL MY HATE.
Well Todd’s a pretty nice guy if you actually took the time to get to know him. Not that many people actually do. He can be rather shy at times, and will no doubt get embarrassed easily and will only get even more embarrassed if he tries and fails to hide it. But if anyone tried to make friends with him, he’d definitely try to be as friendly as possible. He really just wants to be a likeable guy, not bullied like he was before. Which did take a large effect on his self-esteem, which is; you guessed it, incredibly low. He doesn’t even like to be completely himself anymore. Even if he absolutely despises a person, he would still probably be as kind as possible just to be well, liked. He is also quite sensitive due to the verbal abuse he has received in the past, though he definitely tries to hide it as much as possible.
Bio: Todd hasn’t had much of a ‘brilliant’ life. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t particularly good either. It was all pretty normal for him at first. Wake Up; Go to school; work; see friends; more work; go home; sleep; repeat. And well yes, as he grew older the routine stayed pretty much the same. Nothing interesting ever really happened. It was just boring boring boring. Until he decided he didn’t find girls attractive at all. THEN shit went down. Of course you can’t say a word without it being spread around within the next few minutes. Say one thing one minute, the next thing you know is that everyone knows about it. Can’t trust anyone these days - not even your ‘friends’. So yes, next thing he noticed he was being bullied about being ‘gay’. Hell he didn’t even know if he was or not at first, but he finally grew to accept the fact that he was. Cause damn all of a sudden there were some pretty hot guys… But yes people seem to have something against homosexuals. Which isn’t very nice. All of a sudden he had found himself getting moved school due to the bullying. It has happened a few times now. People just ‘happen’ to find out and then think it’s a great opportunity to possibly make someone cry. Yes he has cried about it when it has been REALLY bad, though never actually in front of anyone. Now he just keeps to himself really. Taking the ‘see friends’ part out of his normal routine. Though it seems to be working fine for him. Even if it’s lonely, it’s better than being bullied.
Important Details: Yes he is indeed homosexual. Even if he doesn’t appear it. He is also claustrophobic .
Writing Sample: I’m a cool bitch who doesn’t have to do this shit B3



oh my god it's so small

Skinny jean fetishes, mm.

'cepted and all that jazzity jazz jazz.

That fetish
DO HAVE. <3


Yayyy jazzity jazz~

And now for the gay gay gay gay

Oh yay yay yay yay for the gay gay gay gay~

Gaaaay

Look in the sky! Its a bird, its a plane, NO! Its GAYMAN! Duh-du-du-dah!!

Here I come to save the day! And I look FABULOUS!!!

Gayman!? Don't turn your back on him.....

TO THE FAGMOBILE!