the shed

[di-stri]

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ｄｉ-ｓｔｒｉ'ｓ ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒ ｓｈｅｄ
━━━━━ xxx please refrain from posting!

hey there! im di-stri [previously dudetier;, Nerd., and more others than i think i can count] and this is where i'll dump all my roleplay character forms! sadly thanks to school and work and the like, i don't often get opportunities to roleplay any longer. however, one day i hope to get into it again - that and the fact i like to code a bit for fun means i do a lot of forms, and they need a home. not all, however, are my characters; i will state beside them in the contents if they are not!
as stated above, i'd be very greatful if you refrained from posting. if you have something to tell or ask me, just shoot me a pm! thank you and have a great day :>

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｓ
━━━━━

bits and bobs

bits and pieces ; response formatting ; thread formatting
character forms

xaena odehic ; elizabeth granger ; nathan ridgewell ; ace baxter ; adrian summers ; charlotte smith ; kurevo ; james montgomery ; finnick odair ; aaron blakely
tae ; hailey ; nathan ; jay ; abigail ; jake ; chase
the following characters are not mine

dave strider ; dirk strider ; rose lalonde



faceclaims (for personal reference)

nathan - sam way || jay - oliver dale || chase - alex pettyfer (wild child) || aaron - luke grimes

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[di-stri]

copeland - chin up {x}

back to when we started / losing who we were / maybe we should only tip a bottle back / to keep us filled up / back to when we started / loosing who we were / everybody knows that / you'd break your neck / to keep your chin up

panic! at the disco - this is gospel {x}

oh this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart / dont try to sleep through the end of the world / bury me alive / cause i wont give up without a fight / if you love me let me go / if you love me let me go / cause these words are knives that often leave scars / the fear of falling apart

kelly clarkson - because of you {x}

my heart can't possibly break / when it wasn't even whole to start with

panic! at the disco - casual affair {x}

take any moment, any time / a lover on the left / a sinner on the right / lay in the atmosphere / a casual affair / break involuntary ties / a secret so the spies / could never find us out / stay for as long as you have time / so the mess that we'll become / leaves something to talk about
imagine dragons - amsterdam {x}

i’m sorry, mother / i’m sorry i let you down / well, these days I’m fine / no, these days I tend to lie

ｏｎｅ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｍｏｎｅｙ, ｔｗｏ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｓｈｏｗ|| one for the money, two for the show
ｆｕｒｔｈｅｒ ｔｈａｎ ｔｈｅ ｅｙｅ ｃａｎ ｓｅｅ || further than the eye can see
ｎｏｔ ｊｕｓｔ ａ ｐｒｅｔｔｙ ｆａｃｅ || not just a pretty face

[di-stri]

Ｘａｅｎａ Ｏｄｅｈｉｃ

___________________________________________________________________________

.

drawn by me on paint tool sai. drawn in the stages where she is a burgundy blood

ｂａｓｉｃｓ
username;; Nerd.
name;; xaena odehic
species;; troll
sex;; female
age;; six point four six sweeps, fourteen earth years
screen name;; trivialQuestioner [TQ]
blood colour;; burgundy
lusus;;
god tier;; mage of space // knight[witch?] of doom
moon;; derse

ｑｕａｄｒａｎｔｓ, ｂａｂｙ
matesprit;; lacking
kismesis;; lacking
moirail;; lacking
auspisitice ;; an ex-auspisitice [got too black between everyone]

ｔｅｃｈｎｉｃａｌ ｂｕｓｉｎｅｓｓ
strife specibi;; rocketlauncherkind
fetch modus;; rune [each captchalogue card is allocated a rune individually. according to who-knows-what, captchalogued items are stored into different runecards - xaena doesnt know how this is organised. perhaps by shape, or colour, or celestial predestination. either way, it can be a bit of a pain having to recall the rune each captchalogued item was allocated. when she does, however, she has to but simply draw it on whatever surface she wishes the item captchalogued under that rune should appear on, and it should do so - the rune, disappearing]
land;; land of clouds and illusions [LOCAI], with light purple [rag]doll underlings. the skies are shrouded in dark grey clouds, tinted with an almost deep purple colour. some of the smaller clouds rest lower near the uneven dark purple ground. due to a large, seemingly indestructible tower pulsing telepathic signals, you can be hit by hallucinations anywhere on the planet - but it is far, far worse when you talk into one of the low-hanging clouds
quirk;; upside-down exclaimation marks [¡] for i's and upside-down question marks [¿] for s's. no capitalisation, and near-perfect punctuation that is occasionally forgotten [but very rarely]
quote;; "that'¿ completely r¡d¡culou¿, and you're an ¡d¡ot."

ａ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｄｅｅｐｅｒ ｄｏｗｎ
blood colour repercussions;; xaena, when closing her eyes, can feel auras. if they're strong, she can sometimes see them behind her eyelids. these clue her in to people's emotions and personalities. also, every now and then, she can tell when somebody's about to die. [the latter may be a doom thing though. like, if she ends up being doom. good lordy i dont know]
personality;; what personality

[di-stri]

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███████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Ｅｌｉｚａｂｅｔｈ Ｒｏｓｅ Ｇｒａｎｇｅｒ
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████
ｃｏｍｅ ｏｎ ｌｏｖｅｒ, ｗｅ ｗｅｒｅ ｍｅａｎｔ ｔｏ ｂｅ

ｔｈｅ ｂａｓｉｃｓ

ｎｉｃｋｎａｍｅｓ ; eliza, liz, lizzy,
beth, zabbi [pref. elizabeth]
ａｇｅ ; seventeen
ｓｅｘ ; female
ｄｏｂ ; april twenty-fifth
ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ ; student

ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｆａｃｅ

Elizabeth was born with straight white teeth and a head of light brown hair that darkened as she grew up to a medium brown - becoming light in the sun and dark in the shadows - which she dyed at fifteen to a fair blonde. From fifteen onwards Elizabeth kept dying her hair blonde when it was called for, but cared so little about darkened roots that she'd often forget until her hair was laced with dark strands. Her teeth kept white and eyes always complimentary to her hair - light or otherwise - with their soft blue hue, sprinkled with an accent of green, should you look long enough. Her skin, in winter, is an opaque pale beige colour - however, should summer arrive with it's normal blistering heat, her skin tans to a soft, light brown. But good things never last, and it's pale beige will always be back by winter's return.
Like her mid-length hair, her nails are at an average size. They rarely yellow, and when they do, Elizabeth knows exactly how to get them back to their perfect white and delicate pink. Painted or not, her nails always accentuate her stylish clothing selections, ranging from singlets to fur coats, lightly coloured in summer and darker come winter. Her pants are usually a staple pair of navy skinny jeans or lightweight fabric shorts, depending on the weather.

ｄｅｅｐｅｒ ｄｏｗｎ

Elizabeth's never had a major problem with relationships, her decent looks earning her a few popular boyfriends. She's always considered herself a heterosexual, but others have suspected her as bisexual before and she's no longer certain she doesn't believe it herself. Her family is small, consisting of a mother, father and younger brother. She likes to think they're having fun, being the same age forever up in heaven ever since they all died in a housefire when she was seven. Elizabeth was adopted quickly from the orphanage - after having no close young family members to be transferred to - and now lives with nobody but a working father and a careless mother. Some orphanage kids get sent to families that care all their lives, but Elizabeth's parents weren't as dedicated in child-raising as they thought they'd be. Now, at seventeen, Elizabeth is no longer expected to be anything but self-sufficient. She lives in a large, open white house, with a decent sized room covered in posters and flower lights to let her forget where she lives. Don't get her wrong, though - Elizabeth is caring, and won't do anything to purposely hurt somebody else unless they really get on her bad side. Getting on her bad side would not be advised, honestly, considering her generally sweet personality and therefore popularity with the rest of the student body, should it be obvious or not. She can be manipulative when she wants to, and practised twisting words to her own benefit since childhood. Other than that, she loves cats and mixing music and making acquaintances, along with talking to friends and going shopping for clothes. Every now and then she'll sketch or play guitar, but while good, those talents could use a little polishing. Drawing scenery in charcoal, however, is one of Elizabeth's hidden gifts. Her voice isn't terrible and both her feet aren't completely left. However, even with all these attributes she still doesn't believe she's quite good enough. Of course, she'd never want to get somebody worried by telling them she hated herself, or that the scars on her hip weren't from falling over one time when she was five. To her, it honestly doesn't matter. Live in the moment. Survive in the moment.

[di-stri]

ｂａｓｉｃａｌｌｙ

ｎｉｃｋｎａｍｅｓ ; nath [n-ay-th]
ａｇｅ ; eighteen
ｓｅｘ ; male
ｄｏｂ ; april 17
ｒｅｌｉｇｉｏｎ; atheist
ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ; varied

Ｎａｔｈａｎ Ｊａｓｏｎ Ｒｉｄｇｅｗｅｌｌ____
ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｔａｋｅ ｙｏｕ ａｎｙｗｈｅｒｅ ｂａｂｙ, ｊｕｓｔ ｇｉｖｅ ｍｅ ａ ｐｌａｃｅ

ｏｎｌｙ ｓｋｉｎ ｄｅｅｐ

Over the years, Nathan worked to raise a muscular build which he prides himself on today. He's received more than one comment on it in the past, which only fuels his ego. But the compliments didn't stop at his tone: girls and boys alike found it not all too hard to look at his medium brown hair, rough and occasionally gelled, nor his deep chocolate brown eyes. Nathan has always been aware of the slight imperfection that is his singular chipped tooth, but quite honestly he doesn't give it much thought. His skin is tanned year-round to a warm light-to-medium brown, and only tainted by the rare freckle across his arms, nose and back. Nathan stands at a half-foot taller than the general population, which he isn't all too shy to admit he likes. On the average day, Nathan will be wearing a flannel shirt, singlet or the occasional band shirt. Barely anybody has seen him in anything but denim jeans or cargo pants, likely because he no longer even owns any shorts that fit him and is not in a rush to buy a new pair.

ｕｎｄｅｒ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｆａｃｅ

If you asked him, Nathan would probably tell you he's man with an eye for nothing but the ladies and the ladies alone. This would be a lie. It wouldn't be the first time Nathan's spat out lies automatically - in fact, he's become quite accustomed to it. Living as an only child, Nathan never had the problem of sharing between siblings or taking the blame for things he didn't do. He did, however, have a problem with the kids at school. A lot of problems. Nathan's been pretty stubborn and independent since childhood, and punched more than his fair share of people his age. Under his bed, hidden like all of his secrets, lies a sword. The crusted blood is at minimum, and it's hidden by a sheathe, but there it lies nonetheless. The bed above's seen more than a few different people laying in it, always accompanied by Nathan. His ego's big - bigger than he himself - and every award and compliment he gets only makes it bigger. An ego, however, isn't to be confused with a feeling of wholeness. Nathan doesn't always feel as great as he makes himself out to be. Somewhere deep inside, his ego doesn't reach him. He's not happy there, and he's more than a little aware of his imperfections. It's dark inside him, but most people will never find out.
Back on the outside, though, Nathan's a percussionist with an aptitude for pitch and sight reading. He's good with weapons, too, but that's more of an illegal talent he likes to keep on the down-low. Other than that and sports, Nathan doesn't really have many gifts. He likes to listen to music and tease girls, making them feel wanted for just a little while before he's gone again. If there's anything Nathan hates, it's people who don't listen. Ego or no ego, he needs attention to do what little things he's good at. That little, dark Nathan inside the real - or should I say, fake - one, is hurt most of all by people who don't understand and judge him without bothering to wonder further into why he does what he does, but the little voice in his head that thinks that can just go lock itself in a drawer because Nathan either does not care or will never admit he does.

ａｌｌ ｔｈｅｓｅ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉ'ｖｅ ｄｏｎｅ

Unlike his smile, Nathan's past hasn't been the brightest. In school, Nathan was consistently being sent to detention for his habit of beating up kids who annoyed him - even in kindergarten. This didn't leave him with many friends, which would have made him the subject of ridicule had he not been so fearsome to the other students. Friendlessness didn't get him down, however, as Nathan spent his spare time with his father learning necessary life skills such as sword fighting and martial arts. His father had always been supportive of Nathan's rebelliousness and strong will, all the way up to his death on Nathan's eleventh birthday. In an attempt to forget his grief, Nathan took up fighting and blade-wielding on his own. Hobby turned into obsession, and Nathan's mother grew concerned as he spent all day and much of the night tearing trees in the neighbouring woods to shreds. Her inability to understand him made Nathan resent her, effectively secluding himself from what little family he had left.
At the age of twelve, Nathan found himself unable to seek comfort in his obsession any longer. He needed other people around; people who accepted him for who he was, people who embraced his perhaps frightening nature and helped him grow in ways he couldn't on his own. That's when he made friends with Jay, a boy his age and build who he had bumped into on accident by the far side of the woods he so loved. They were instant friends, and when Nathan eventually opened up to Jay and showed him his particular favourite part of the woods (where he kept a lot of the weapons he had made, bought or stolen so that his mother couldn't find them), Jay loved it. Now aware of Nathan's obvious passion, Jay invited Nathan to join his gang of boys who he had rounded up based on their ability to fight, steal and hide things from their parents. Nathan naturally agreed, and stayed in the gang for a fair while before dropping out. Jay and Nathan remained friends - at this point, nearly brothers - and graciously accepted his leaving. Nathan jumped from gang to gang, going solo between them and every now and then going back to Jay and his group, who very often changed members.

[di-stri]

Ａｃｅ Ａｌｅｘａｎｄｅｒ Ｂａｘｔｅｒ
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ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｍａｋｅ ｍｅ ｒｅｇｒｅｔ ｍｅｅｔｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ, ｂａｂｅ.

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{ｂａｓｉｃａｌｌｙ.}

State your name. "Ace Alexander Baxter." Religion. "Atheist." Sex. "Male." Age. "Seventeen." Date of birth. "Does that really matte-" Date of Birth. "October Thirteenth."

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{ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｆａｃｅ.}

Ace was born a light-eyed, brown-haired baby, wrapped in blue and coddled by a loving mother and father. Since then, his hair has been bleached white so many times it's impressive it's still on his head, and his blanket exchanged for a black lip ring and earlobe stud. His skin remains pale, with the exception of a splatter of light brown freckles across his cheeks. Ace isn't the most muscular guy around, but nor is he weak. He couldn't be more than one or two inches taller than most people, but respects it nonetheless. Ace's nails are often cut short and on occasion bitten down, but they're usually buried in his denim pant pocket anyway. His shirts change all the time, from singlet to flannel to t-shirt to hoodie. Ace makes no attempt to hide his tattoo, though nobody has ever really gotten a straight answer as to why it's there in the first place. Nobody has ever really gotten a straight answer as to anything from Ace, really.

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{ｕｎｄｅｒ ｙｏｕｒ ｓｋｉｎ.}

Ace is, all things considered, a bit of an enigma. It's been proved he has a talent for poetry writing, song writing, possibly singing and most definitely acting. Just when somebody thinks they've gotten a hold of him - thinks they've got the real thing, met the real guy, getting a peek into how he really is - Ace will throw it all in to doubt when he becomes a completely different person, whether to the third party in question or somebody else. Nobody's even sure if the glasses he has perched on his nose on occasion are prescription or not. He's been seen in skate parks and classical music stores, tattoo parlours and delicate, fancy restaurants. Some people say he hates pickles and some people say they saw him chewing on some while playing a video game. Not even his own parents can say for sure what he's like. His parents who are - what he considers to be - extremely protective, to the point of getting annoying. He often acts sweetly to them, never raising his tone and always being polite. It is a proven fact this is his way of ignoring them.

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{ａ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｂｉｔ ｏｆ ｌｏｖｉｎｇ.}

Ace doesn't have any relationships right now. Of course he doesn't. This is literally just a crack form you made up at eleven at night because you felt like it. Are you even going to use this?

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ｈａｖｅｎ'ｔ ｙｏｕ ｈｅａｒｄ ｔｈａｔ,
ｉ'ｍ ｔｈｅ ｎｅｗ ｃａｎｃｅｒ,
ｎｅｖｅｒ ｌｏｏｋｅｄ ｂｅｔｔｅｒ ａｎｄ,
ｙｏｕ ｃａｎ'ｔ ｓｔａｎｄ ｉｔ

[di-stri]

Ａｄｒｉａｎ•Ｄａｖｉｄ•Ｓｕｍｍｅｒｓ

__________________________________________________________________

ｂａｓｉｃａｌｌｙ

ｎｉｃｋｎａｍｅｓ ; dave, summers
ａｇｅ ; seventeen
ｓｅｘ ; male
ｄｏｂ ; november thirteenth
ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ ; student

ｉ'ｍ ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｏｌｄ ａｎｄ ｉ ｎｅｅｄ
ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｒｅｌｙ ｏｎ, ｓｏ ｔ
ｅｌｌ ｍｅ ｗｈｅｎ ｙｏｕ'ｒｅ ｇｏｎｎａ ｌ
ｅｔ ｍｅ ｉｎ, ｉ'ｍ ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｔｉｒｅｄ
ａｎｄ ｉ ｎｅｅｄ ｓｏｍｅｗｈｅｒｅ ｔｏ ｂｅ
ｇｉｎａｎｄ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｈａｖｅ ａ ｍｉｎｕｔ
ｅ ｗｈｙ ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｗｅ ｇｏ, ｔａｌｋ ａｂｏｕ
ｔ ｉｔ ｓｏｍｅｗｈｅｒｅ ｏｎｌｙ ｗｅ ｋｎｏ
ｗ, ｔｈｉｓ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｂｅ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｄ ｏｆ
ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇｓｏ ｗｈｙ ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｗｅ
ｇｏ ｓｏｍｅｗｈｅｒｅ ｏｎｌｙ ｗｅ ｋｎｏｗ
















-

ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｆａｃｅ

Adrian's saucy combination of soft, dark brown hair and summer green eyes is a big contributor to his looks. He's been complimented with a medium beige skin, neither pale nor tanned - stretched over his muscular frame, tainted by nothing but the occasional light scar over his neck, arms and knees. Adrian stands at a half foot taller than the general populace, something he prides himself over greatly and uses to his advantage. His supposed good looks give him nothing to worry over as he picks out his clothes for the day, anything from singlets to t-shirts to sweaters. Though he isn't frightened to wear a pair of shorts should the weather call for it, you'll more often see Adrian in basic, straight denim jeans.

ｔｈｅ ｊｕｉｃｙ ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ

Adrian grew up picking habits from his father - good or otherwise. Some of the traits he gained include smoking, drinking, stubbornness and rowdiness, and a tendency to think of girls as objects rather than people. Though it's nothing the average teenager would be proud of, Adrian has no qualms letting anyone know what he's become. It couldn't be told if he drinks for fun or drinks to forget - and honestly, nobody would really care to ask. Despite his connection with his father leading to his less than appealing attributes, Adrian never liked his parents much. His mother cares, and has always cared, but his father was never anything but the polar opposite of his lover. Late nights, big beers and violence made up Mister Summer's nights, and hangovers, anger and snapped remarks made up his days. Though his parent's shared company always provided for Adrian, he was never happy. Numerous times has Adrian thought of running away, but only once had he attempted it. Outside his window in the dead of night, Adrian's father found him with a backpack and kitchen knife, on the ready to run to whatever refuge he'd planned. His father was, however, clearly drunk, and hit Adrian over the head with a beer bottle which shattered on impact. After regaining his bearings, Adrian cleared the glass away into a bush and climbed back through his window, unable to leave without nursing his wounds. The next morning nobody had any idea what happened to him, his father too drunk and his mother too innocent. He wrote the cuts and bruises off as falling out of a second-storey window, which though alarming, did the job.
Adrian owns a small, rusted silver locket embellished with topaz - his birthstone - which he keeps in his pocket, under his bed, or hidden away in his underwear drawer. Should you ever be able to open it you'd immediately notice the two pictures it contained: on the left, an image of an adult man and woman on their wedding day, and on the right, a little girl dressed in a light, peach dress. It's impossible to tell who they were - or rather, are - for anybody but Adrian himself. Personally, he'd like to keep it that way.
Adrian's spent most of his life in his bedroom, listening to loud music and smoking from the second-storey balcony. It'd take a lot to properly faze him, and even more to convince him of his unhealthy lifestyle. Of course, again - not that anyone would try.

ｒｕｎ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｍｉｌｌ ｇｏｓｓｉｐ

Adrian's had a fair few girlfriends in his past, never long and never serious. Crushes have never been his thing, and anything else is an experiment. Though he's relationshipless at the moment, Adrian is not one to be doubted - if he wanted a girl, he'd have one.

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faceclaim © logan lerman

[di-stri]

Ｃｈａｒｌｏｔｔｅ "Ｓｕｇａｒ" Ｓｍｉｔｈ

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅ ,ｉｔ'ｓ ｏｋａｙ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｓｃａｒｅｄ,ｉ ｋｎｏｗ ｔｈａｔ ｙｏｕ'ｌｌ ｂｅ ｇｌａｄ ｔｈａｔ ｙｏｕ ｃａｍｅ

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

ｂａｓｉｃａｌｌｙ

ｎｉｃｋｎａｍｅｓ ; charlie, sugar
ａｇｅ ; sixteen
ｓｅｘ ; female
ｄｏｂ ; unknown
ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ ; unknown

ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｆａｃｅ

Charlotte was born a bubbly brunette, but after a series of misfortunate events decided to bleach her hair flawless white, and eventually dye it pink. Her eyes, however, remain the same colour - a deep, chocolatey brown. She wears contacts, but not of the colour-altering kind - Charlotte is rather short-sighted, but nothing too bad that she can't lie about it when she forgets her contacts or glasses. She has mostly flawless, pale skin, and a slim but slightly toned figure from all the fighting with her friends she used to do as both a child and a young teenager. Charlotte looks more vulnerable than she really is.

ａｌｌ ｔｈｅｓｅ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉ'ｖｅ ｄｏｎｅ

A long time ago, Charlotte Smith was in fact Roxanne Rocket Smith, a happy, fun-loving brunette who parted her hair in the middle and loved her friends, family, and just joking about. Alas, that all changed when her ex-boyfriend heard that she was cheating on him with someone else - and then murdered that man. In an effort to hide from him, Charlotte changed her name and dyed her hair, which did well enough in keeping her crazy ex away from her. Within a month after the breakup she was forced to put up so many walls to protect her from anyone and everyone that she became lonely, anxious and depressed, and hidden in both a metaphorical and a very literal sense. And if this weren't bad enough, Charlotte's lack of luck was certainly demonstrated when she witnessed something she certainly should not have. The man involved saw her there and followed her the whole way home, only to stay outside until she finally cried herself to sleep at five in the morning, at which time he broke in and murdered her parents. She knew he would have killed her too had she not managed to wake up and escape through her window with her blanket and barely her life. Once again, Charlotte was chased by the killer, but this time she had no where to run to. He caught up to her, caught her and carried her screaming and splattered with her dead family's blood to his car, which he then drove to the police station, reporting her as having killed her own family in a psychopathic breakdown. He pretended to be a concerned neighbour, but Charlotte and Charlotte alone knew better. It was at this time that she gained the nickname "Sugar", as that's what he kept calling her the whole time he was sending her to jail. The police decided she would go best in a ward for the criminally insane, and in that facility she held onto the nickname the murderer had given her, letting it fuel her rage and keeping her alive.

ｄｅｅｐｅｒ ｄｏｗｎ

Charlotte is a self-sufficient young woman who can easily stand up for herself. But, as with most people, she does better with friends by her side; people she knows she can count on, just in case she needs it. While Charlotte is strong, if you catch her at the wrong moment she can be extremely vulnerable to attacks both physically and emotionally, and on occasion she has rare but terrible relapses into social anxiety and depression, which put her at an all-time strength low. Charlotte tries to avoid anyone too unpredictable, as they are the most dangerous to her, and the best and catching her off guard. Something almost nobody knows about Charlotte is that the nickname "Sugar", which she acquired from a man who sent her to a psych ward, gives her strength like none other. It inspires her to keep on going, to be resilient, to not tolerate anything less than what she wants - the name fuels her by her rage and hatred, and helps keep her fighting through thick and thin. The use of that nickname has gotten a lot of guys beaten up.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[di-stri]

Ｄａｖｅ Ｓｔｒｉｄｅｒ
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are you taking notes on how to be cool?? jesus get a pen

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x x

ｂａｓｉｃａｌｌｙ
ｆｕｌｌ ｎａｍｅ; david strider
ａｇｅ ; sixteen
ｓｅｘ ; male
ｄｏｂ ; december third
ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ ; none

ｉ ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｗａｎｎａ ｈｅａｒ ｙｏｕ'ｖｅ
ｇｏｔ ａ ｂｏｙｆｒｉｅｎｄ, ｓｏｍｅｔｉ
ｍｅｓ ｙｏｕ'ｒｅ ｂｅｔｔｅｒ ｏｆｆ ａｌ
ｏｎｅ ... ｂｕｔ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｃｈａｎｇｅ ｙ
ｏｕｒ ｍｉｎｄ, ｙｏｕ ｋｎｏｗ ｗｈｅｒｅ
ｔｏ ｆｉｎｄ ｍｅ

ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ

Dave's never been particularly normal, and that's not a jab at his personality. He was born with a head of soft, light blonde hair, which was later sideswept and just a little bit - though never admittedly - styled, which is pretty average. His skin, however, stretched across his hard-earned toned body, was always pretty pale due to his inherited - though admittedly odd - albino genes. Likewise, his eyes were affected, turning them a bright and somewhat embarrassing red. Other than that, not much else is really that different - at least, for a kid who grew up learning martial arts and the ability to run faster than almost anybody he's ever met. Dave stands at an inch or so taller than most, something he's not afraid to use to his advantage. You'll usually find Dave in a vinyl record t-shirt and black skinny jeans, or a stupid set of red pyjamas with a totally rad cape. However, to be fair, he has been known to shake it up a bit with whatever happens to be lying on his wardrobe floor - and God knows what could be down there. Much like his clothing, Dave is incredibly predictable in his choice of eye wear - a pair of authentic Ben Stiller shades, right off his weird, sort of gaunt face. Well, not right off. But close enough.

ｄｅｅｐｅｒ ｄｏｗｎ

There is nobody doubting that Dave is a Cool Kid. (Okay, maybe there's one or two people doubting it, but that's besides the point.) With his constant stoic expression and general 'nothing can really hurt me' attitude, Dave's got the cool kid façade down pat. But that's just it - it's just a façade. There's some things some people don't like discussing with others, and Dave's 'some things' just happen to be every single thing he's ever felt. There's nothing cool about reoccurring anxiety, depression and insecurity. There's nothing cool about crying or hurting or feeling anything at all, so as far as he likes to let others know, none of that's going on behind the Strider's shades. He uses claims of irony to mask his uncomfortableness admitting he enjoys the things he enjoys, and emotionlessness to mask numbness. Dave isn't to be misunderstood, though - he's not always a sad kid. His conditions are reoccurring but not permanent, and lasted through in the comfort of his bedroom with a bag of Doritos and a gallon of apple juice. His laughs aren't always faux and his smirks are much the same. The shades aren't all for coolness and something to hide behind, but double as a tinted protection between him and the light that hurts his red, genetically enhanced eyes. Albino genes aren't all for cool looks, Dave discovered with an unfortunately first-hand viewpoint, but also for ticking you off when you can't even look at someone under fluorescent lights without getting a killer headache after too long. Dave figures there are worse things to suffer, however, so it's not all that important to him.
Dave doesn't put a whole lot of unnecessary thought into how he feels. While his sister Rose may analyse every step he takes, Dave stays true to his name and takes it in stride. Oh hey, you like a boy. Yeah, whatever. You like a girl? Big deal. You think you might like your brother, that one thing somebody said a week ago hurt your feelings, Jade painted your nails pink. Unless in a fit of his unfortunate depression, anxiety or insecurity, nothing phases this kid. He's a Strider. Of course it doesn't phase him.
Usually.

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art by feastings on tumblr

[di-stri]

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ＤＩＲＫ ★ ＳＴＲＩＤＥＲ
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ＤＥＣＥＭＢＥＲ ＴＨＩＲＤ
ＲＯＢＯＴＩＣＳ
ＳＩＣＫ ＢＥＡＴＳ
ＴＯＴＡＬ ＤＯＲＫ






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Ｎｏ, ｎｏ, ｙｏｕ'ｒｅ ｎｏｔ ａｌｌｏｗｅｄ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒｓｅｌｆ
ａｎｙ ｍｏｒｅ. Ｈａｖｅｎ'ｔ ｙｏｕ ｈｅａｒｄ? Ｔｈａｔ'ｓ ｗａｙ
ｔｏｏ ｍａｉｎｓｔｒｅａｍ.

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art by crappy-drawings on tumblr