[broodingtulip]

➵ name ;;
ridley fenix
➵ gender ;;
female
➵birthday ;;
december 21.
➵ age ;;
eight years old.
➵hex codes ;;
#E3D9CF
#BAAA9B
#7FFFFF
#36322F
➵ voice ;;
strong and unwavering;
soft yet strong when angered or upset

Ridley was born to a young bean; a bean that had barely reached adulthood. The young adult had no home, her own parents abandoning her in her time of need. Ridley's mother was left to die, spending her time jumping from cave to cave; forest to forest. No matter where she went, she suffered. Ridley's father had vanished; disappearing when ridley's mother called out to him for help. Ridley, to this day, doesn't who who her father is, or where he is. She doesn't even know if he's dead or alive.
When ridley was born, her mother couldn't look at her. The baby, born silent, was lying on the cold ground as her mother wrote a letter, explaining that she simply couldn't raise her baby in her state of mind. She took the letter and the baby bean some where far, far away from herself, abandoning her baby and just hoping that someone decent- someone better than her- would come along and raise her baby.

----

adoptive brother;;
atlas


When Ridley was first taken in, she didn't utter a word. Ever since she was a baby, she's been quiet, never speaking much. It was by choice, of course. She simply didn't want to let anybody in- to see the real her, how vulnerable she is. She didn't want to get hurt. The first time she saw Atlas, he was painting. The painting itself was simple- an emerald forest with sapphire lakes, and a ruby sunset, but what intrigued her was his concentration; how focused he was. How it seemed as if he blocked the world out; as if all that he saw was the canvas, his paintbrush, and his array of colors. It took him an hour to finish, and he still hadn't spot the young bean. When he finally turned with a proud smile, his eyes grew in shock when he found a tiny bean staring up at him.
"That looks like the place i was born," her normally strong voice had shook, eyes staring intensely at the painting.
"It's just a place i had thought up..." the young bean laughed nervously, staring at the painting as well. his eyes had been searching for even the tiniest of flaws.
"I was born in a forest similar to that. I can't remember much, but i know it was just as pretty as that painting," she said, a warm feeling in her chest. She wasn't familiar with this; but for some reason the young bean had been drawn to Atlas.
"Would you like me to teach you how to paint?" Atlas hesitantly asked, unsure how to approach the young bean.He could tell she had been through a lot- she didn't have the carefree eyes that beans her age should have.
Ridley stared at atlas for a few moments, before hesitantly nodding.

That night, Atlas explained the basics of drawing to Ridley. They lost track of time, night fading to morning. When atlas had asked for her name, the bean had no idea how to answer. Up until that point, Ridley went by with no name.
"How about...Ridley?" Atlas suggested after multiple turned down suggestions. Ridley's ears had perked up, and she nodded excitedly. Atlas laughed, grinning down at the small bean. "Ridley it is, then."

Ridley sees atlas as a brother figure. The quiet bean is only really ever seen talking to Atlas, always turning to him for advice. Despite this, she doesn't rely on him like she would a father. Atlas treats her like a little sister; always protecting her when she needs protecting, even though he's one of the least intimidating guys out there. He's overly affectionate, and tends to play little jokes on her from time to time. She lives with him, but since he's rather messy, she always seems to be the one cleaning up after him.

----

personality;;

Ridley is often silent around other beans, not to say that she doesn't want to talk; she just doesn't want to get hurt. Ridley's mindset is that if you get to know people- if you get close to people- you are setting yourself up to get hurt or betrayed. She doesn't believe in sugar-coating things, and she is rather brutally honest. Always looking at the realistic side of things, Ridley doesn't believe in happy endings or fairy tales.

Once you get past her wall that she puts up around people, you see that the brutally honest girl is a good actress; a good liar, some might say. She's clever and knows how to get herself out of trouble; not to say she knows how to stay out of it.


[[wip <3
working on content, then i'll work on coding since it keeps messing up and i'd rather get all the writing done first quq]]

[GREML0RD]

Congrats

[Offended Cockatiel]

I, I
Know what it's like
Staying up all night
Nursing wounds

There is only a tiny line between happy and sad, and some call that limbo, and others say it's just pretending- like painting smiles so big on your face that no one can see you really.

Gender: Male
Name: Jamie Alto Summers

"Purgatory," the older ones, teenagers, would whisper behind the the feet of on going adults that liked to walk by faster than they liked to pause and stare. Every time eye contact was made it felt like a decade had passed, so quickly that your heart would have stopped in its spot completely, if it could.

Purgatory because you suffered, and the more you stayed the more you suffered. But there was no getting away. They called it the endless loop that every low grade orphanage trouble-kid, brat, had to live with.

At least until you outgrew the system. Then came life, and for those with barely nothing left when it came to chances, and just about no funding whatsoever, a recycled version of the purgatory loop came into view. It was paradoxal really. Almost no way out.




"Almost no way out."

The sheets flicked by quickly, a nicely stapled load of information with signatures, words and, more importantly, pictures. Because the first thing a stranger will recognize is your looks. Before all that stuff about height, weight, habits or even certain preferences. First they'll see the paper posters in town and say they'll have a good eye out for orphan boy. It is a title, being called by what you are, parantless child. Next they'll see orphan boy and probably squint, taking moments to recognize the one they'd been watching for, and call the-- tole-free number listed on the paper.

Damn them and their pictures.

"Alto Summers---" There was a pause, it was the record player scratching the record. A large hissing screech on the ears. "Jamie Summers," The attendant rifled his hands over the paper watching him. He had seamed to miss what the boy had said. Though, he was only thinking aloud again, sitting neatly in the large wooden chair.

The young boy appeared to be in his own world, trying to make them understand seamed like running through a maze blind. He tapered back from his mind, staring partially into space and partially not, to blink and breath in a well induced daze.

"Jamie, please stop writing Alto overtop of you real name." The man frowned, forming wrinkles upon his face. He was the most long-worked in the orphanage, his wafting, scent of mint and oak-wood overtaking the childrens mind whenever his name was spoken. Cornelius, a stranger and less of an acquaintance than his own parents, whom were better off knowing what day Haley's comet came into view than their own sons age. "It's not that hard, I'll help you. Ja-mie. J-a----."

The lights above Cornelius' head flickered periodically, making the blue eyed boy wonder when they had last fixed them. They made him look like a villain with each flicker, and soon young Jamie's mind drifted off into his own thoughts, over to wondering when the building was even made, how long had mister 'smells like mint and oak-wood' been working there? Had he been there since before some of the teenagers were born?



Maybe what was needed was a journal for all of those wandering thoughts. A keep-sake, like what you find buried deep under the ground with a rusty old, used to be gold it seams, lock. And inside a vast rainbow of things came out, monotonous in meaning and no meaning altogether... For whoever found it next had no idea what it was, what it meant indefinitely. And that's how it would be with a young boy and his journal.

Just some form of marvelous history, from a strangers life. A little black book, with lines on inky pages, was plopped down ontothe bed of it's intended user. It was old, it was needed. A small pen hooked neatly to the spine of it, the books own companion, a small pen to be careful of. For it liked it's markings permanent.

He spent months gratifying that books aged pages, on and on with hidden words, things he'd show to no one. He talked, without actually having to use his voice, and it took everything, absolutely everything, right in.

He was a sailors son, daddy wasn't the nicest. What pressed through him was just the feeling you get when you're close to someone and they move away so instantly you're stuck, trying to push away gestating thoughts, wondering how disgusting of a person you are to them, in such quick seconds. Daddy didn't make him feel good, his stomach jumped when a voice seeped through that mouth.

Daddy liked the water more than he liked his own body, his boat was made of fine wood and told the stories of hundreds of journeys. With each tick and dent a memory could be recalled.
...

That was daddy for you. He'd spend weeks off on those journeys, living those stories, wile mommy and baby waited and forgot and remembered, and over-analyzed; without even knowing the meaning of the word.

———-——-———-——-———-——- ———-——-———-——-———-——- ———-——-———-——-———-——-

---

That little black journal and pen;;

Alto is a pen name, so on paper Jamie is not Jamie. He is not himself, as he is Alto, only in ink. Who knows why he uses it. It's partially psychological, many things are, just like the way he writes. A style of complete difference from natural understanding. Even though he's writing about himself he never seems to use personal pronouns. He'll use words like "you, him, them, they" but never anything indicating that it's him.

Pg.13 Dreams



One:
All the noises are drowning you out, the people sitting in their seats watching, not caring. You want to be something... You want to be big? They all start yelling and yelling and you remember so much, it's much louder than home... Though that doesn't make it better. It's nowhere near how home used to be, it is an open stage and that is where the similarity ends, it's too cluttered and claustrophobic and too hard to breath, too hard to... Think. Something hits your head and you fall back, beggening to bleed, and everything goes dark and you wake up... The bed doesn't seem comfortable every night.

Two:
It seems like a nice day, sitting in the house, though shadows begin to grow and screams topple up out of silent nowhere. 'This is going to be a short one,' something behind your mind whispers, the shadows keep getting bigger, planting their feet down, ready to snatch you up, not as monsters but as people... Everything goes pitch black, the shadows purr as you fade back into consciousness. The radiator purrs right back, in the corner, pulsing in heat, the night hiding all the shadows.

A set of adoptive parents came walking by, watching through the glass, watching their changing expressions. A small thing, like a nub, caught in the boys throat as he observed the, almost eerie with surprisement, people pass by. He felt like a caged animal, and animal were only caged because they could be, with no morality level, pick and choose your small companion from the dosage.

There was a halt in their steps. It wasn't like they didn't have other things to do, other things to be preoccupied with, or at least pretend to be preoccupied with, the children just couldn't get to those other things right then. The parentals stepped forward, staring at a young child in the other room. Through the glass eye contact was made, and that decade long seaming pause began to stop the heart. The children knew how that felt.

"Oh, Ambrose, isn't he handsome?"

Ambrose presumably, nodded. Someone would be leaving. Good news, get the whistles and the banners and let's buy a cake...

The young lady put her hand to the glass and there was only more and more awestruck blinking. The halt in the orphans activity stoped with an upbrupt jump, and there they went, right back to their usual activities. Except for one small child still caught in the headlights, in the sights of a parent. It was like staring your hunter in the eyes, with guns pointed at your head. Those eyes were weapons enough, with the way the lady stared.

Jamie was taken out of his usual mental daze, eyes wandering to who they were staring at. A boy with peach coloured hair and auburn eyes. The door opened with a click and a beep, as if that didn't aid to the feeling of being caged so well. Shy hellos were said, it was like watching the tv screen. All of these people sarrounding them, but they were in their own scene altogether.

It was a whole new level compared to Jamie's internal isolation, he could be incased in a scene all by himself... And with his journal, of course.

Mothers rugged home left way to no comfort. After daddy left everything soft and plush... anything soft and plush within that house dispirited. His father was needed, just as much as dust was needed by dust bunnies. A relevant thing for something of irrelevancy.

The drapes fell down the wrong way, awkwardly at angles, so that light got in through seeping holes. It was so silent that it scared you to think about why that mite be. The door opening lead a melancholy shade of blue to drench the rooms, the walls, the windows, leaving bare space for escape. Gentle cylinders of yellow light would get lost inside and he'd sit there, knees up-to his chest and hiding from everything, yet still so open and able to feel the scratching gentle chill. Most bad histories, that were known, weren't so silently soft. He'd sit there and just... Think.

There is a lot to think about in this world, endless expanses.

The sails would wave at him from the shore as the boat floated off, and he would wave back. He'd stand beside mother, father would stand beside his better known companion, the sea. And they'd wave softly towards each other, antagonistic in their pursuits, back and forth, as if everything was bright and perfect.


It all pulled through his memory, Ambrose and the lady and the boy with peach coloured hair. Daddy and the waving sails, mother and the lonely house, the way the doors clicked, locked, when the adults left, he had a way of bathing in the happenings.

It took months, and within those months all he did was write and think, until he decided to run away. It was cliche really... As transcendental as he had come. It was like a snap of the fingers, and he had no control of it, he barely remembered how it went. An ironic feat.

--—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-• --—-•—--—-•

Personal:

Jamie is not quiet, as much as he is too easily distracted and used to over-thinking.

Because he was raised in a condemning household, with a need to keep an image of perfection, and peace when it came to views of them, Jamie feels uncomfortable expressing 'what's wrong'. He has trouble speaking about problems in general, it does not have that alleviating sense as it mite with other people.

He does have physiological issues, and they are not as drastic and dramatizing as media makes most physiological problems to be, but it is painful for him as much as it is natural.

He has a tendency to drift off into his mind, staring at the wall as if he is there when really he's thinking. That's his mental daze. It isn't unnatural, he's used to sitting and assessing. Memories drifting in and out, along with thoughts. Within his brain. For a prolonged amount of time, taking everything in, from clear corners to blurry edges.

---

Paramore- Ain't It Fun

Note- Those smaller written sections are linked to Jamie's mind, his thoughts and his journal.



---

Art-
jackaling

BasicAtHeart

BasicAtHeart

Rythyrm

Folvey

[-wild-]

must drop out due to insane lack of time ;n;

[koegami]

Reserve

[Deadly Nightshade]

Definite reserve!

Username: Deadly Nightshade
Name: Hatari

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[Tatsushan]

Reserve please

[Levina]

I warn you, i'm not for the faint hearted

''My name? Well... i go by the name of Cole''

Name:Cole
Gender:Male

''I saw you walk in here, looking at all my files''

DATE: 10/10/14
Cole is our newest arrival here at the orphanage he came with a letter attached to his collar that was hard to read as the rain smudged the words but from what we could read it read: ''My name is cole, please take me in and care for me but whatever you do don't ask about -- ----'' The last sentence was smudged about what? But we took him in and dried him with a few towels. He seems to be a sweet bean but doesn't seem to talk much or let us touch that collar of his if we try he will slowly start to bare his teeth to us. But i'm sure in a couple of weeks he can tell us what happened to him.

DATE: 13/10/14
It was a disaster, trying to get Cole to speak to the other orphaned beans he wouldn't say a word he just sat there staring at all of them as if he was saying that he'd burn everything. We are almost positive it's his past that haunts him but he wont speak a word to us he just draws on his own what seems to be a moon with a 'x' through it much like his Collar. ''What does all this mean?'' Is the question we're all thinking of. The simplest comment about his drawing he gives us a glare, a horrible glare with his Lightning blue eyes. We need to know more about him soon, in case his actions does something dangerous. We need to help him.

DATE: 16/10/14
We called in a professional to help us- Cole nearly seriously injured another orphan as it went up to touch his drawing on the pavement. This was a serious situation we couldn't help him and we need to stop him fast before it gets out of control. She's coming tomorrow to see him. And more importantly ask him questions, if he tells us then there is more chance of us helping him.

The visit
''I'm not going to force you to speak, but if you do we can help you with your troubles'' Spoke a sweet kind voice persuading Cole to speak
''Whats your name?'' she sighed after seeing no progress after 20 minutes
'''My name? Well... i go by the name of Cole'' Cole spoke for the first time since he arrived here. His voice was harsh and emotionless.
''Hello Cole, Would you mind telling me how you feel about this place?'' She kept writing down notes in her small notebook it was a metallic purple with various flowers on it.
Cole huffed loudly, not enjoying this one bit he wriggled around in the wooden chair ''A dump.'' He spoke clearly.
''Why's that?'' She asked ''Is there something bothering you? Like maybe...'' She paused for a couples seconds ''Your past?''
''You want to know about my past?'' Cole said as if she said it as a joke
''It would help.'' She told him
''Fine'' Cole sighed glaring at the reporter like bean as if she was going to share his story for the world and use it for amusement or entertainment.

Cole took a deep breath in ready to share his story potentially to the world ''I am extremely claustrophobic, the last thing i remember was being in a box this was like 3 months ago i kept scratching the sides of the crate but it just gave me splinters. I cried myself to sleep every.single.night i couldn't go on. One day i put all my weight forcing the box what seemed overboard it fell into the water with me still inside. The water was seeping in''

The bean was writing notes down like mad rapidly turning over the pages in her notebook. ''Carry on'' She said as if she didn't care
''I almost drowned but by the skin on my teeth i survived the crate smashed into a large rock near the shore i started coughing i was weak and alone. After an hour i walked up to the beach there was a wall separating the beach from the city it wasn't where i imagined to be washed up, i thought there'd be a long sandy beach with a dense, isolated jungle for me to claim as my own but no it was a populated area with loads of other beans.''

''What did you do next?'' She asked, the bean didn't look like she'd help cole at all and she was only interested in the scoop. Cole glared at her but she wasn't looking ''I walked around, the water dripping from my fur i was shivering. A jogger took pity on me and threw me half a energy bar and jogged off again, i ate it but it was disgusting and i hated it.
Later that day after scavenging i found a place to stay a large piece of debry in a slanted position between two tall walls good enough shelter for a homeless bean. I fell a sleep for a change i didn't cry myself to sleep which was a small sign of improvement.''

''Did someone find you?'' she asked this was turning more into a interview which cole didn't like he wriggled around and answered her question. ''Yes 7 days later, and older bean found me she took me home with her but she had several other children slightly younger than me. They where annoying and kept jumping on my wrestling me to the ground and made fun of how i never spoke to them just their mother.''
''Did you do any violent acts towards them?'' The bean asked
Cole paused and said slowly ''Yes....'' he said uneasily ''They pushed me to the limits until one day i pinned one to the ground i didn't hurt them i just.. showed who was boss. But their mother saw that she looked at me terrified and began to write a note and looked in the drawer and pulled out a collar, this collar unfortunately i didn't know that was mine until the next morning as i was sleeping she took me out, not in a violent way but we all knew she couldn't keep me. She slid the collar on me and attached the note she stroked my fur softly then said ''I'm sorry little one'' The next thing i remember i woke up here surrounded by other children, other orphans without parents, like me but without a memory of what happened to them i remembered everything.''

''Did you get along with your new friends?'' She asked ''No they we're just as annoying as the ones before and they tried to take my collar off but i just growled at them this is the only memory i have of her, she was a good person, the only good person.''
''I see.'' The bean said writing her final sentences down
''What are you going to do with my story?'' Cole asked
''Help you i'll put this information with your files'' she closed her notebook and slid the pen inside the top part of it.
''I saw you walk in here, looking at all my files. None of this will help.'' Cole said unhappily
''It will, just be patient'' she said
''Patience never got me anywhere, i can't even trust a nameless person tying to help me'' He snapped at her
''Im Sonya'' She held out her paw and smiled
Cole huffed at her ''Well Sonya aren't you going to help me?'' He said in a moody voice
''I-uh need to discuss this with the staff..'' Sonya told him
''I knew you where up to no good'' Cold snarled
He left the room.

Personality:

One thing goes through Cole's mind and that's to trust no one, he thinks there is no joy to life just mysery and pain. He is very antisocial and claustrophobic, to be fair he is shy which is why you find it rare to hear his voice. You'll never see a smile from Cole, just a straight face you'd have your work cut out trying to. One thing no one knows about Cole is that he has a soft spot for bunnies and rabbits, strange right? He keeps it to himself but always loves their cute little faces, short fluffy tail, long ears, twitching noses and well... everything you'd expect this to be his least favourite animal but in fact, it's the complete opposite.



It was the dead of night, there was silence all over the town, but all of a sudden there was a smashing sound. Cole was climbing up onto the orphanage's roof, some tiles fell off as he climbed. As he got to the top he sat down and looked up, his eyes sparkled with delight as he saw the stars. Cole see's himself as a mini astronomer or a way to get rid of his troubles. The moon shone bright along with many other stars, Cole said nothing he just sat there sometimes for hours on end it was just surprisingly relaxing. No one knew he was up there, nor was he allowed to do this so you could say he's a bit of a 'rebel'

[knifekind]

reserve with the name newt.
male.
theme song - immortals by fall out boy
- claustrophobic
- ace demi
- protective
- kind
- cold on the outside, warm on the inside basically

notes --
2000 word limit
This includes ALL text-based things in your form

10 art limit
This only includes art that is of this particular bean.

[wandzie.]

Mark since I'm giving major help to Yowzah <3 ^^