➹➹ ℓσνє . ιѕ . cσмρℓιcαтє∂ ➷➷

[loki.i love you.]

ננ :: αвяαнαм :: ѕσυℓ

נαѕ

~~ Ƭ Ӈ Є Ɓ ƛ Ƨ Ɩ Ƈ Ƨ ~~

;Full Name;
JJ Abraham Soul

;Nickname(s);
JJ is fine, thank you.

;Age;
16

~~ Ʀ Є Ƒ Լ Є Ƈ Ƭ Ɩ Ơ Ɲ Ƨ ~~

;Full Description;
JJ has a very lithe body with slight muscles on his arms and a very toned torso. His skin is a tiny bit tanner than most skin colors of a Caucasian. His eyes are round with an a slight almond shape taking to them. JJ's eyes are the color of the sky at its finest blue. His lips are plump enough for a great kiss and a bit paler than the average colors of lips. He usually wears a goofy grin upon his face.

He has dark auburn hair that is as smooth as silk. At most times.Other than that, he usually has an adorable case of bed head when he leaves it natural. Which is most of the time. Upon his face rest glasses. Though he rarely wears them, feeling self-conscious and stupid. He usually wears contacts. He usually wears graphic t-shirts and skinny jeans with his black high top boots. Sometimes, he'll throw on his black trench coat but that's only when it's cold. His colors don't usually vary. Though when's feeling bright and upbeat, he'll dress in flashier colors than the usual black.

;Height;
5 feet and 10 inches

;Weight;
110 pounds

;Hair;
JJ usually wears his hair up and as natural as can be. He occasionally brushes it, though it's usually in a sort of bedhead fashion. His hair color is a dark auburn and is smooth as silk. He's as touchy about his hair as every other guy. Sometimes, he has an adorable case of bed head which makes him look, well, adorable.

;Eyes;
JJ's eyes are of the finest blue the sky could ever be.

;Clothing Style;
He usually wears graphic t-shirts and skinny jeans with his black high top boots. Sometimes, he'll throw on his black trench coat but that's only when it's cold. His colors don't usually vary. Though when's feeling bright and upbeat, he'll dress in flashier colors than the usual black.

~~ Ɗ Ɩ Ɠ Ɠ Ɩ Ɲ Ɠ Ɗ Є Є Ƥ Є Ʀ ~~

;Personality;
[ s m a r t ]JJ is very smart. He uses his intelligence to his advantage, hacking into computers and designing websites, etc. He does all the cool stuff on computers. He got into Yale college when he was still in High School and graduated at the top of his class. He's been doing great ever since he graduated at 18 years old.
[ f u n n y ]JJ can be very humorous when working and doing anything else. He loves to make people laugh and will do anything to do so. He loves cheering people up but sometimes his humor can go a bit far and make things worse. JJ has many tricks and jokes up his sleeve so watch out.
[ i n s e c u r e ]JJ is very insecure at times. He's very sensitive to things so encouragement is very good to him. He loves to be praised and all that jazz. Especially when he does good with the computer. Although he knows his skill level, he still feels a bit not confident. And not just with computers.

;History;
JJ was born an orphan on the streets. His mother discarded him to an orphanage with little money. Though he was quickly adopted by sympathetic and loving parents. For years and years, JJ lived with parents who turned abusive. They began to beat him. His mother passed away of drunk driving, her being the drunk driver. This only caused his beatings to worsen at home. When JJ was old enough, he managed to run away from his father, disappearing off of his father's radar. He was safe. At least for now.

During sometime in the winter of his first year at his new home, he met a girl that worked at the College Library. He fell in love with her and she him. They spent mornings drinking coffee on his balcony, afternoons in the Library reading stories to each other, nights at restaurants eating dinner. They sang songs together and shared jokes and cuddled on the couch all night long. Then one day, she left. He left his home and found a new one.

;Likes;
I love teddy bears. They're the most amazing stuffed animals in the world. My favorite color is black and I love roses. Chocolate is my favorite food and/or candy. I can't get enough of it. I love little girls. I'm sorry if that sounds kinda creepy but I guess it's just because someday, I want a daughter of my own. And of course computers.

;Dislikes;
I hate being left alone. I need company, basically. I don't like people resisting me. I just want them to like me. I don't like spiders. And I don't like monkeys. They're creepy.

~~Ʀ Є Լ ƛ Ƭ Ɩ Ơ Ɲ Ƨ Ӈ Ɩ Ƥ Ƨ ~~

Crush:
None/Open

Bf/Gf:
None/Open

Family:
Tessa|Sister|15|Separated at birth
Sarah|Mother|33|Died when giving birth
James|Father|35|Killed by Tuberculosis before the children were born.

[111misc]

w i p

And now all your love is wasted, and who the hell was I? I'm breaking at the bridges, and at the end of all your lines

---{{. name
I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ʙʏ ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ɴᴀᴍᴇs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ.
Fᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ Aɴᴅᴇʀ.
When Ander Wolfe was born, his mother named him after a poet, Ander Monson. However, that fact rarely makes it around. Ander tries to avoid it when introducing himself. The boy's first name is pronounced like the first part of Anderson, with a hard a and a lithe feeling rolling off the tongue. That being said, his middle name, to no surprise, is the last name Monson. Wolfe, Ander's last name, was after his father, and though he thinks it's actually kind of a cool name, Ander's never been able to be proud of it...for reasons so far unknown.

---{{. age
ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, ʙᴀʙᴇ, I'ᴍ ʟᴇɢᴀʟ.
Eighteen, having turned into a legal adult in February, Ander's been sure to take full advantage of his new freedoms. It's strange, though, he couldn't help think, that his whole life he'd been waiting to grow up, and then, overnight, he technically had. The government and world considered him an adult, then. And he was free. But, in some way, and still Ander isn't sure how, but it was a depressing lurch that woke him the morning of his birthday, when he turned eighteen, an anticlimactic drawl, and a feeling of waste and bitterness, because as he stepped into this new doorway of adulthood, his youth, his childhood, whatever had been left to him, was enveloped in shadows behind him, and he could never go back.

---{{. gender
ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ
ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʟᴀssᴇs ᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ...
Ander's a boy, don't get any mistakes about it. Sure, he's not always been at his greatest, but even at the man's worst he still couldn't be mistaken for a girl. Even if he were thinner, or looked feminine, which he doesn't, but if he did, he still couldn't be thought of that way. It's his voice, and the way he carries himself. Deep voiced, warm and rusty like bronze, and a mild swagger in his step, a slight puff of his chest and angle of his jaw that could never be present in a female. It's a good thing, too. Growing up with so many older brothers, if he'd even had a trace of weakness in him visible, to start with, it had been pounded out of him long ago.

---{{. description
Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, I'ᴍ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ
ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ...
Ander Wolfe's not the nerdy boy sitting alone at lunch. He's not usually the last one to make friends, nor are his Friday nights ever empty. Good-looking in a wild, simple way, Ander's never had to work hard for the way he looks. With tanned skin, smooth shaven with little acne (though when he does get the occasional bout it's usually on his temple), Ander's always had the appearence of spending hours and hours on end in the sunlight, even when he was little. It gives him a bronzed color that matches his voice's texture and warmth, looking sunkissed and smooth, like a stone mulled over by the ocean tides for years and years and years. Ander's hair, shaved close to his head and dark, like the deepest forest at twilight, isn't necessarily the softest in the world, and it's spiky, and dense. The hue mirrors that of his dark gaze, his eyes set wide apart and long, with large, dark, irises. High cheekbones and thick eyebrows accentuate Ander's face, creating upon his bronzed canvas a drastic piece of artwork, dangerous looking and attractive.
Ander's never been weak-looking. He wouldn't have survived, in his own home, if he had been. All his brothers had learned to be tough from a young age, and he was no exception. With faint abs and toned muscles, the boy's always been a runner and a fighter. So far I've listed Ander's good qualities, of which he is certainly not lacking, but lets delve into his physical flaws. He's prone to clumsiness, attributed to his overly large feet he tends to trip over often, and he had a mole behind his right ear. Ander's always been a bit embarrassed about his flaws, and when he's nervous, or under pressure, he doesn't realize it, but he'll rub behind his ear, at the join between his neck and that, next to the mole. As well as this a few scars mar Ander Wolfe's body. A bite mark on his calf from one of his brothers, though he can't remember which, in the shape of a small curved line, silvery white, is imprinted upon him, as well as a few scratches here and there, and permanently scabby knees. When he's angry, Ander has a tendency to flare his nostrils, and when he's happy, though genuine happiness is a rarer thing then you'd expect in this boy, a unique crooked smile flashes onto his face. Pulled higher on one side then the other, it shows large pearly teeth, and a dimple in his left cheek. His eyes, dark and solemn normally, can light up when he smiles, and though he could be considered normal looking on most occasions, if not slightly above average, Ander, undoubtably, could be one of the most handsome boys you ever met, if he just smiled more.

---{{. modifications
I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ
ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘsᴀᴋᴇs...
Ander was sixteen when he got his first tattoo, a painful experience if he ever had one, but totally worth it, in his mind. The art was a small full moon above his ankle. A year ago, he and all his brothers went out to get an identical tattoo, as well. The drawing, black ink, on each of the boys backs, right under one of their shoulder blades, in clear, concise ink, was the initials LW. Like this:

That's basically it, though. The history for the tattoo comes later....

---{{. personality
Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ,
ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ?
I'll give you three broad words to describe Ander, since I'm sure not many people want to read through this.
Wild, pure, and desperate.
Ander was wild from the day he was born. It was in his blood. But, it's not the type of wild that kills people, that does drugs or stupid things, it's a much more subtle wild. When you look at him, you can see the tension in his bones, like he's always straining against something. The type of picture that comes to mind is a horse, pulling against it's bonds, trying to get free, or a bird, looking up to the sky and opening it's wings for the first time. The tension, the stress, the hope and courage and determination are all there, as is the misery and nervousness and the possibility of failure. Ander's wildness comes from a place deeper inside him then lust and shallow daydreams, though that is a form it tends to take in the physical world. It's the only way he can get himself across, sometimes.
What I mean by that, is even if Ander was never one to drink or party, he would do it, in a heartbeat, if he were feeling especially trapped. He's wild and he's caged. So though he understands in his heart it's not the escape he wanted, Ander has yet to understand what it really is he wants. He's just confused. He gets muddled easily as freedom blends and passion and fury combine, as wisdom and stupidity lose their focus...Ander just can't find the differences, for he doesn't know how to recognize either one.
Like the wilderness is a deadly, barren place to those who don't understand or care for it, so Ander is a wasted animal, dangerous and feral, to those who refuse to understand him. But there is a glint in his eyes that shows in it's depths all the beauty of the wilderness, too. The kindness and gentleness and the free winds that wrack the plains are shown in his smiles. The part of the wild that keeps fawns and cubs safe from harm, the part that harbors more life then any city, the part of the wild that perhaps isn't so wild; that secret part, is more Ander then the harsh winters and wracking storms.
Besides the obviously wild appeal about Ander, the boy is rather secretive. But he has reason to be. Bitter and grown cold from experience, some things are better left unsaid, is his policy. Because, really, when someone experiences betrayal and pain, trust becomes all the more a commodity, and all the more precious. There's not much anyone in Ander's english class could say about him except he's good looking enough and not totally stupid. That they try and stay on his good side. Even the cliques he hung with in high school knew little to nothing of the boy's past. Because clutching things to his chest is the safest thing to do. It's the least precarious, when you don't have to trust someone else. Because you can't read their minds, and how should Ander know when he'll get hurt again, if he gives them that power? There's something in Ander quite helpless, and he knows it. It puts the boy on the defense, makes him hard, on the outside. And he shoots glares that kill and spits fire in his words. He could break your jaw with a punch and spit in your eyes. He's not weak. But neither is he strong. Not enough to be open, not enough to lean on others, which, in the end, is the hardest and most harrowing thing anyone can do.
Continuing on with that, Ander is plagued with a horrible disease of the heart and soul. You can see it in his eyes and in his cocky smile; like acid, pride eats at his heart. It is the crippling type of pride, the one that restricks almost everything Ander does for it. He won't bow to you, he won't concede defeat, even if it's something metaphorical, something so small and finite no one but him takes any notice of it. An example would be in his chorus class junior year of high school. Ander really hated his teacher, who he thought was an obnoxious old fart, and refused, to prove a point, even subtly, to take part in anything above and beyond in that class. On the last day of his junior year, the class had a kareoke day, where some of the students sang pieces for fun. A part of Ander had wanted to, but the pride in him refused. How could he concede defeat to his teacher? He was making a point out of pure dislike that he would not be a part of what that person wanted or enjoyed. So pride could have easily been his downfall, if Ander had been a part of the Hunger Games, or in the world of Percy Jackson; but he's just a normal boy, and every normal boy has a fault or two. So, though promenent, Ander's pride is not fatal.
But besides his pride, a quality of his that not only fuels those fires, but makes him a better rounded person, is his diligence. Ander doesn't plod along or take his time on something. Rather, he has bursts of passion and works in excited flurries of movement which are quick to subside. So he'll put a project away for months at a time, but somewhere everything he does is at the back of his mind, at some point, or another. People like his brothers have made fun of him before for his lack of commitement, for it does seem he flits from one thing to the next. However, despite the hiatus's in between, there has yet to be anything Ander has not finished, if he started it. He's not OCD, but there's something about leaving things half done that makes him itch.
My other bolded word for Ander is his purity. It's a strange emotion for the boy to have, but it makes p so much of him. Strange because no one would expect the mind of someone so wild to be pure, but it's because he's pure that he's wild. The day he becomes too weary to smile, he'll lose himself. Ander knows that. Ander's purity is not of the body or even of the heart, he's been broken in both, and seen enough pain to last lifetimes, but it's of the soul. He's legally an adult, but he's not grown yet. He's still just a laughing boy, at heart, and every time someone hurts him, like a child, he forgets. That's how he stays so pure. Of course, I'm not saying literally forgets the incident, but he just forgets what it felt like, he puts it out of his mind, and in this way, Ander has managed to keep a part of him he's afraid everyone around him lost a long time ago.
Ander has two types of smiles. The first, is common to see, handsome, but normal. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's not as crooked as it would have been naturally, but he still has a dimple in his cheek. He reserves it for things like hanging out with strangers or even friends sometimes, for parties and for moments when he pretends he's not sad. He uses it most then, for smiling when your sad, Ander's decided, is the best thing for you. The best medicine.
The other smile of his, is much more rare and hard to spot. It's not so different from his false one, which is why no one ever seems to know he has a fake smile on, but there are things someone who really cared could have picked out. It's more lopsided, shows more of his teeth, and his dark eyes really glitter when he wears it. No one ever notices the difference though.
Another major quality that makes up Ander is his guilt. I didn't put it in bold because it's more of a private quality, so if you decided to read this whole thing I'll tell you, but those cheaters can't know this part of him, if they didn't want to try. When Ander's brother died (in the history), there were mixed feelings. At first, like all his family, Ander was wracked with sorrow and depression about their loss. He almost even missed his older brother. But the thing was, he didn't. When Luis had been alive, he'd been horrible to Ander. Horrible. Luis was the second youngest, right before Ander, and when he was born, Luis was so grateful not to be the youngest and the punching bag anymore, he never even considered Ander as a person, just a scapegoat. And he really hurt him more then a couple times. He broke Ander's finger once, bending it backwards just to hear his brother yelp. It wasn't a loving relationship, that was for sure. And the thing was, Ander had absolutely no memory of kindness from his older brother, and at first, it depressed him. At the funeral, he refused to say anything because in his heart he knew he couldn't. But gradually that turned to an almost free feeling. He would wake up every morning not to some lump of muscle and fat and spit pouring water on him, but when he wanted. He didn't have to worry about walking quietly down the stairs in case he woke him. He didn't have to practice his left hook. The feeling of loss Ander had unwillingly turned into a sort of happiness. But it was such conflicted happiness. Because Ander knew that was wrong. He knew he should miss his brother, closest to him in age...they should have been best friends and he should miss him. So above the free feeling of having him gone, above the loss of losing his family, there is guilt plaguing Ander's heart as he reflects inward on himself and sees that there must be something horribly wrong with him. He has never told his feelings to a single person, and plans to keep it that way.
The last bolded quality I wrote down at the front of these paragraphs was desperate. And yes, Ander's desperate. I don't know what he's desperate for, and neither does he. He's just in need of something. Maybe it's the wild glaze of his eyes sometimes when he does something crazy, the half hearted smiles he gives all the time, the weird feeling of freedom he gets from thrills. It could be anything. But Ander is desperate for some sort of anchor. He has none, in his life, right now. Especially when Luis died, Ander started questioning his relationships with all his older brothers. If one of them had died, would he had felt the same as he now did about Luis's death? He didn't know, but that was what scared him. Ander needs someone, or something, to hold him. To hold him down when he wants to fly, when he wants to jump. Someone to help him through tough periods and rocky mindsets, something to comfort him and keep him sane. Because there are people Ander's met who certainly think he's gone round the bend. But he hasn't, yet. He's trying to, for he doesn't want to cling to this disgusting reality he's been locked in, but he needs someone to hold him back for him. Someone to tame the part of him that might be too wild. He's just desperate, in his soul, for someone or something to really, really care about. Something he wouldn't leave willingly, because if he could he'd leave his family and leave his house and leave his history behind. Ander needs an anchor.

---{{. history
Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴀ ᴍᴇssʏ ᴀғғᴀɪʀ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ sᴛᴏʀʏ...
Well, I'm not going to go into super detail in this because I want him to be able to tell most of it himself. However, the basics are that he was born into a family with five older boys, from oldest to youngest: James, Henry, Carl, Mason, Luis, and then him, Ander. They were technically half brothers, all of them, since they all had seperate fathers, but they lived together and considered themselves real brothers. At least Ander did. Their mother's name's Beth, and Ander remembers she used to be beautiful and kind. Recently (and by recently I mean like, five years ago) she's lost herself. Luis and Mason, when they were still home, hated it. They hated her for forgetting about them, but Ander always understood. He's always loved his mom, always, and he always took care never to hurt her. But she hurt him. The doctors had told her to take pills, and so she took them, but they changed her. And people told her at her job she was an idiot, so she became an idiot. She just wasn't strong enough to live under the pressures the world had for her. That was what Ander thought. But she checked out, that was for sure. He made his own lunches for school, mopped the floor himself, and cooked dinner himself. She was his anchor for a while, because he felt he should take care of her, since his other brothers refused to do it. When he was seventeen, though, she started to hate him. A mother never really does hate her own children, so of course it wasn't real hate. It was the passion that is expelled when someone gives up the will for sanity and the desire to live. She became a weak shadow of who she was, spitting curses at her sons whenever they came close to her. She took up smoking and drinking, and sat on her couch day after day as the checks would come in from James and Henry and Carl. They would each pay a bit for their rent, because they knew she needed it. So Ander was on his own, and she stopped being his anchor.
When he was seventeen, again, Luis died. It was his own fault, Ander's always privately thought. He was hanging out with the wrong crowd, doing drugs, and it killed him. His brothers all came home for the funeral, and together they tattoo'd Luis's innitials on their backs. To always remember their brother. If anyone ever asked Ander about, though, he'd tell them some bull, but not the truth. Never the truth. It's much to private for that.

---{{. relationships
Wᴇʟʟ, I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍʏ
ᴇʏᴇ ᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ...
Ander's not the type to be public with his feelings, or to share anything, really. Toys or books or girls. It doesn't matter. He's rather selfish in that account, I suppose, but can you blame him? Ander doesn't know why, but looking at June, he really feels something stirring, even though he can see she's certainly not the kindest or most beautiful girl in the world. He doesn't quite understand why he likes her so much, but that's what keeps him tailing after her. If he understood it, he could disgard it. But he's curious about her, and willing to try and take her. Either way, in his past, he was never one for committed relationships. One night stands and lots of make-out sessions are the predominant form of romance in this boys life. Nevertheless, Ander's sure, that, if he really tries, he could be a good boyfriend. I mean, he's not totally sure, but he'll try, after all.

---{{. other
ʏᴏʟᴏ
'Nah, I've said it all, I think. ^^

[katniss,]

[[ @Chess :: Of course you can. I am sure you won't disappoint. c: You don't need to send a sample since I know yuour pleeennnttyyy literate! ]]

[111misc]

{Alright, thanks, Kat. I finished the form, it's above. And I can't wait to get started!}

[katniss,]

Okay, good.
We need the last spot, the male perfect two, to be filled before we can start. Can someone make one? If not, let's hope someone else does!

[katniss,]

Okay, good.
We need the last spot, the male perfect two, to be filled before we can start. Can someone make one? If not, let's hope someone else does!

[average]

{{ i stumbled back on this. i really, really don't want it to die.. }}

[root.]

I'm sort of back from my mini-hiatus, and I was growing quite attached to Kane, so maybe I'll stick around?

[katniss,]

sorry, this roleplay has died.

[average]

{{ well, okay. can't say i'm not disappointed, but that's alright. ^^; }}