[Hiroko]

Reserve for when I am off mobile.

[thelabradorr]

Possible reserve

[slurm]

marking 8)

[Zuppe]

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Ɲαмє: înger

Romanian for 'Angel', He was often
called this by his mother as a pet name.
However, when she died, he began to use
it as his actual name. His birth name is
unknown

Ɠєηɗєя: Male

Agє: 15

Ƭнємє ѕσηg: -ωιρ-

Hσмєтσωη: New york, NY
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ƤєяѕσηαƖιту ;;

Inger is classified as Lone wolf. Before his mother's death he was once like any optimistic child.
he was always willing to take care of his mother and found happiness in everything. However,
when his mother died Inger turned cold and introverted. Unable to keep relationship with anyone,
nor even had the thought of ever wanting relationships, in fear they would be lost as his mother before him.
He prefers to stay away from crowds and likes to be alone at all times. If someone comes up to him,
he gives them the cold shoulder and most of the time however, nobody dares come up to the child.
When the police look for him because of his frequent escapes from foster families,
he would always be hidden in the shadows awaiting another victim to steal from.

Inger is also a risk taker, sometimes taking dangerous risks every day to insure survival
or get him closer to vengeance. Because of this he often comes across insensitive to his
victims and their families. He doesn't care what vender he steals from or how poor the vender was.
He honestly doesn't care if he pick pocketed a child or an adult with less than him.
Inger's main personality trait however is that he's extremely ambitious.
Everyday he inches closer to finding his mother's killer and he always anticipates it,
always thinking about the future when everything comes into place. he obsesses with the
vengence, so much that most of time when he's not thinking of stealing money or food.


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Hιѕ σccυραтιση ;;

Inger considers himself a self employed assassin. His main goal is to track down the old members of the street gang that shot and killed his mother. He keeps with him the gun that was used by the gang member whome dropped the weapon all those years ago.
The police never caught him in any act and he tends to keep silent about such things. After all he wouldn't want to be caught with a gun in his hands? especially so close to adulthood as he is fifteen years old...

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Hσρєѕ fσя тнє fυтυяє?

after his revenge he honestly hasn't ever thought about what to do next. He hopes to start life new with that lingering and wanted satisfaction. Maybe even change his name. He wants to maybe move out of the country to Romania to learn his roots and heritage his mother came from.
Maybe one day he'll even find another, and start a family of his own. Though right now Inger actually has no interest in a soul mate. As far as he knows, his only purpose in life is to get vengeance for his mom.


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Hιѕ ƇσƖƖαя?

The collar he wears has been with him his entire life, or as long as he could remember. His mom gave it to him, telling him it was an important family heirloom. Because he didn't grow up with anything else, this necklace is his most prized possession. Before he has to go through anything pertaining to danger, he will say a prayer and kiss the charm on the collar. Who he prays to, not god, but protection from his mother. Whom he believes watches and protects him even after death.

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Aят

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December 2008, New York, NY

Living in the slums of one of the biggest cities in the united states was tough these days. So most families that couldn't hold a job lived in the poorer areas of the city. One part being east Bronx...that's where I was born. My mother was single, my father non existent. I remember her sweet smile, her loving kisses, how she called me her little angel..înger as she called me in her language...I loved my mother very much.
She was the only who really understood me...and I really understood her. My mother spoke no English, she was an immigrant, Romanian, and was often taken advantage of. I hated everyone who did that, it made me sick to my stomach.
I was too young when I witnessed this however, being that I was just a toddler. But again I wanted nothing more than to tell them off...
Because of how things were my mother couldn't afford to keep us alive...just barely. So when I was old enough to walk by myself and converse maturely, I searched for a job...
Of course it was illegal to hire children as young as I was...but I was desperate.
I would take anything...

There were a group of older thugs that were the gang leaders of this part of the city. The leaders...I don't remember their looks, but one. Dark eyes....almost blood red.
I almost backed away, I almost inched away and maybe non of the events to come wouldn't have happened if I did...

I was a lookout...they often hired children as stand byes during their jobs.. and they were going to pay me 100 dollars. For a child like me who lives in a one room apartment with my mother...I couldn't escape that offer. It was just too good to be true.
We could have a nice meal with that money...and maybe could buy a blanket to sleep with..
so I accepted.

I forgot to tell my mother that night I was going to be gone...But I also couldn't tell her where either.
How would she understand..all i want is to have a better life to ourselves, to live as we should without starving every night...

we had located down the familiar street we lived on that night. I dont remember much, from repressing my memories but I remember it was cold. Fall was beginning to set in slowly and I felt it in my fur.
I remember hearing a chilling scream and I immediately took watch as the thugs 'took care' of a victim, silencing them on the spot.
That's when I saw my mom. She was running to me, a frightened look on her face and my heart stopped...
I shook my head and almost yelled at her to get away, but in an instant when she yelled my name, înger. They knew she was here.
Before she ever reached me it was almost in slow motion, one of thugs pointed his gun and without thought or rationality, shot her three times. My mother's look of shock stayed with me...even now. The look on her face as she fell to the ground... her loving eyes dulling every minute that December night...
I was then alone... I heard curses come out of the one who shot her, and one of the hit men obviously yelled at him in a language of their own...but I crawled to her dying body and stayed with her...
and I was never letting her go.
They dropped their guns when the sound of police sirens were heard down the block, their backs turned as they left me with my mom.
înger...that was the last word out of her moth as all light flooded from her eyes.
I was stubborn, I asked her to speak to me after that, I asked her get back so we could go home, I didn't care about the money, I just wanted her to be ok...at the time I was in denial.
I refused to leave her. And when the police came and tried to pull me away, I bit them.
I used my claws to slit their cheeks, my canines broke into their skin as I forcefully latched to my mom, tears running down my face.
That when the police stabbed me with something, maybe a shot...tranquilizer dart maybe...
The last memory before that was me falling in her fur...the last time I would lay on her to sleep... her scent still sweet, even mixed with the smell of blood...
And the warmth was still there.

When I woke up her scent was gone. Her warmth was replaced with a white towel that smelled of chemicals and I was in a room without windows. I was sitting on a sheet-less bed, the towel apparently used as a pillow at the time.
i remember a guard coming through the door and the first reaction I had?
It was all a blur, as I attacked him immediately. I screeched for them to bring her back, I wanted to see her, I wanted to know she wasn't actually dead..
As a 8 year old, I was easily pinned down, and they did stick me again.
stupid tranquilizers...
When I woke up again, I was strapped to the bed and another guard was standing over me. naturally I was terrified and tried to get free...
The guard watched me struggle and eventually I gave up.


After I calmed down they asked me many questions, My name, how old I was, where my father was, if I had any family.
I stayed silent.

It has now been a few years later and I am now 15 years old. I have no home. I often run away from foster care and this time around, they haven't found me, or decided I wasn't worth chasing at least...

My home is still within the city. I stray from that area, worried that my past might come to haunt me. But sometimes I think I'm being too paranoid..
I eventually did venture back to find that one of the guns dropped, was still there. Obviously undetected by police... of course I claimed it... what else would I do?

Street wise I became a master thief to survive on my own, mostly picking the pockets of unsuspecting tourists and then living off street venders...
I talk to nobody, I have no friends. I live alone in this city and in all honesty..I am happy.
However one day I will find the beans who killed my mother, and hopefully he'll meet the same fate at the barrel of his own gun in my hands...
I like my life the way it is...I am happy...

[a_bowtie]

yoooooo
this babe is perf
possible res if i can get my work done
╮(╯▽╰)╭

[Valesfer]

reserve <# OMG

[Sp00kEHours]

"Out of everything I have ever seen, it has taken a self realization that measures far beyond my years to convince myself that lapsing into silence was the best answer, and now I see that that knowledge was horribly wrong." - Octavian

A Brief Personality Glance
If there is anything to be said about Octavian Lawson, it is that he is incredibly spiritual and that pendant is a symbol of the specific guidlines to spirituality that he had chosen for himself. While he does not accept questions about the pendant, as he does not want to share his theory over what happens in the afterlife and what one should do or how they should act as they live, there is another trait that is discovered about Octavian; he's secretive. He doesn't want to share with anyone, just out of the paranoia that something bad will happen to him and he will either be shunned to live on his own - which he isn't against, but he's not rushing forwards like an eager puppy to live and struggle on his own - or that everyone will want to take part in something that he views as private and not something that should just be picked apart by those who are incredibly skeptical. Octavian is a realist at heart, refusing to let his head get back up into the clouds because of the fact that he wound up orphaned and had to come to the nursery for help. With scars on the bottom of his feet, and a somewhat haunted but ever alert look in his stunning blue eyes, Octavian does not carry the immature air that some of the many Beans his age do. To dozens of older JBDs, Octavian comes off as way too mature for how little he is and how young. It's incredibly sad to some mothers, who look at him and ponder what it would be like if their own children were like he was, but to some males they seem rather impressed by his intelligence and willingness to let childish fantasies go. However impressed or saddened other and older Beans may be, Octavian isn't doing it for them, but for himself and only himself.

A Little About His Chosen Spirit Path
The symbol around Octavian's neck, that slim crescent moon, is a show that he worships what hangs in the sky in the time when the sun itself has gone away, and needs something to lead the creatures that roam in the darkness so that they do not stumble blindly. In other, more simple terms, Octavian worships the moon itself. He sees it as a mother figure in the absence of his other motherly caretaker, and he sees it as a soft lighted angel hanging in the sky when the darkness surrounds everyone and they need light the most - not searing, burning, painful light, but the soft loving glow of the moon. She guides those that have lost their way, whispering soft shushes to these stars surrounding her and so eagerly begging for her attention as she tends to those not at her side and lost on the playground that is the Earth - her created playpen until her babies on the soil are ready to leap up and come join her among the rest of the stars. This is the one part, that might just be considered childish to many, that Octavian clings to, and no one will be able to change his mind, because the moon - for whatever reason in his past, that he still refuses to share - is his savior, and he is her son sent to walk along the playpen until he finds the right person to leap with.

Sneaking Into His Journal
Within an older, worn out, leather journal lie the secrets that Octavian refuses to share with anyone and that he usually guards with his life and about the same ferocity as a diamond back rattlesnake that had been prodded with a branding iron briefly and just one too many times for comfort. But somehow, some way, that no one needs to question but by some miracle because he's a light sleeper, you've managed to get ahold of his journal - or his diary, whatever you would prefer to call the weathered piece of papers clinging to the spine of their leather protective cover - and you've got just enough time to sneak a peek at the dark truths hidden within that Octavian had worked so hard to keep you from seeing - to keep anyone from seeing, as it wasn't their business. But, after you look between the covers, there is no going back, you cannot forget what you have read, because it will burn an ever problematic sore into the back of your skull and sting you in the moments of silence, or as you are trying to let your eyes slide shut and slip off into the blissful lull of sleep, and you will think of the fluffy blue eyed youth who's gone through too much for even your mind to let it be.

"January 21st, 2014
I'm alone now. It's so cold, and wet here, I can't smell anything, and without my sense of smell I'm going to be completely lost. I haven't been able to find anyone, and I'm really scared. We heard owls last night, Daddy and I, and he told me about how they used to snatch up little dragons that strayed far from their parents and their camps. But I'm not straying! They have to know the difference between straying off and going for help, right? Right?! I didn't mean for it to happen, it wasn't really my fault, I know it and so will everyone else once I can just sort things out and start getting the details. My feet really, really hurt right now. They're a little cut up on the bottom, but once I stop running I can just settle down and start explaining everything. It'll be fine; everything will be fine and Mommy and Daddy will be the exact same again and it'll be just like before the doctors told me I needed to go outdoors more! I told them I didn't like the outdoors, but they didn't listen. So I just had to make them understand that what they were forcing me to do because of that stupid doctor was wrong! So horribly, horribly wrong, and anyone can understand that, right?!

January 22nd, 2014
I think it's time I tell write down what happened. Just to get my thoughts in order and to make sure I know what to say when I really, really do go and get help this time. So, for starters, I didn't mean for it to happen. It was just an accide-"

Suddenly, there's the light footsteps that let you know Octavian is awake and living and that he just might have noticed that his supposedly heavily guarded journal is not where he last left it. Panicking, you drop the journal on the hard wooden floor and take off at full speed, leaving Octavian to find his leather diary-journal hybrid and become silently enraged. But no one can see his anger on the surface, because he only looks annoyed.

A Story of a Bored Moment
Sunlight shone down on the scrawny, fluffy form and the little Bean with the haunted blue eyes as he rest his upper half over the leather journal. A flick of his tail, and his ears flattened to his skull with a soft noise of annoyance because he once again had to fish out the dead, dark brown and vibrant orange leaves. That wasn't fun, because it always seemed like his tail fur came alive and began to wrap around the leaves to make getting them out that much more difficult. It was even worse with those thin little branches one got from a thistle patch or a bramble bush getting stuck in there, because there had been several occasions that he'd had to give up for a little while or he might just have ripped out his tail fur trying to get it nice and neat again. Without the extreme heat of the day, it was actually somewhat nice to be out in the sunlight and have the light give his fur a little warmth. While his beloved moon could light up the path in the darkness and not burn his eyes when he looked directly at her, she could not provide him with the heat that most creatures needed to survive these days. Rolling over onto his side, head resting against his journal and the scent of old leather filling his nostrils and giving him an unbelieveably comforting heat as it rolled over his body in waves. This was something that he could really, really enjoy once he got used to that odd sensation going through him, almost as if it were going all the way to his core. Sometimes, in moments like this, whenever he got that glorious moment of heat within him, his scarred feet would start itching, and he would long to scratch at them but it would do no good. The itch always seemed to be coming from beneath his skin; inside the flesh and blood and maybe even the bone itself - but those moments of heat passed and the itch soon followed behind them and faded away. Haunted blue eyes slowly closed, the small Bean feeling a lot more exhausted than he had before and wondering why on earth he felt this way; he got plenty of sleep, he wasn't having any nightmares, and he hadn't just done extensive physical labor. Perhaps it was just the exhaustion of his mind finally settling in. Those dark secrets and the truth finally starting to take a toll and demand more rest so that he could recover and make sure that his lies were well maintained and that there were no mistakes, no holes in the story, and no changing the stories. Everything would be solid and organized once again, and he would never have to have a worry about someone calling him out about anything. It would be perfect all over again, just like before, and maybe this time he could keep things from going wrong. It had been such a terrible shame when his mother and father were the first two to wrong him, but really it had been the doctor. Shuddering at this thought, the young Bean reached up and covered his eyes with his scarred paws while gritting his teeth and ordering himself not to think about the past - which was something he could not change.

A Poem of the Beginning
"There are things burnt into the back of my eyelids,
things that I would really love it if I could forget them,
but I would also love to forget the sounds of screaming,
and cursing, and the death of those that I loved most.

I promise I am not a monster,
but a boy so very misunderstood.
No one would listen when I spoke to them,
they ignored every pleading word,
as they took me away from our home.
And into the woods.

Never once have I asked to leave the house
to go deep within the trees,
where the warmth of the house is incredibly missing.
And where I can't just curl up in bed to sleep,
but you and the doctor wanted to put me in a tent.
In the cold, in the woods.
And I didn't like that at all, so I'm so verry sorry.

I'm sorry very sorry that you got hurt.
I just wanted to show you what was wrong
when we went camping together." - Octavian (March 3rd, 2014)

[Caeneus]

username:Caeneus
Name:Lucias




Reserve!!

[Kawartsii]

I would so enter if I had more slots q w q
But since I'm not -- marking so that I can stalk this contest <33

Good luck everyone!!

[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]]