Post by MERRICK LUCIUS DRAKE on Apr 20, 2010 11:06:28 GMT -5
MERRICK LUCIUS DRAKE
--------------------------------------------------
I CAN’T HIDE THE MONSTER ANYMORE
ONE CAN, ONLY FEEL DESOLATE FOR SO LONG
ONE CAN, ONLY FEEL DESOLATE FOR SO LONG
FULL NAME: Merrick Lucius Drake
NICKNAMES: Go ahead, call him Merri.
AGE: Twenty four.
SEXUALITY: Pansexual.
MEMBER GROUP: Citizen
OCCUPATION: Merrick hold a job? HAH!
ONE STARTS TO CHANGE INTO
SOMETHING THE MIRROR DOESN’T RECOGNIZE
SOMETHING THE MIRROR DOESN’T RECOGNIZE
HAIR: He finds his hair to be the most distinct trait about him. Up until recent years he has been cutting it rather plainly and averagely and is now making up for it in wild punk / emo hair styles. The first thing he had done with it was dye it a lighter shade of brown than the dark one he had and cut it so it was shaggy and long. After that he dyed it maroon and blond and cut it so it was layered, wild and always spiked. The next step he took was modifying the cut slightly and dyeing his hair black, later adding sections of platinum blond he has since dyed a vibrant shade of red. His hair is almost always in his face and is naturally straight, the strands coarse and thick. He has a lot of hair and likes styling it.
EYES: Green, though they were blue for the longest time.
HEIGHT: 4’9”
SCARS: Merrick is pretty much covered in scars. He has one on his wrist and one on the top of his hand from IVs and needles. Dozens of small scars litter the insides of his thighs and his hips. He also has ones of varying sizes on his chest, back and arms. Most of them are from fights and from pissing the wrong people off.
TATTOOS: This, and five red stars tattooed down his penis; he seems to think he’s a five star lay.
PIERCINGS: His nose and tongue are pierced, and his ears are done twice, the first holes with spacers.
PLAY BY: Brandon Killen
THE DARKNESS HAS BEEN BIDING ITS TIME
TO CLAIM ITS LATEST VICTIM, FRESH MEAT FOR CARNAL DESIRES
TO CLAIM ITS LATEST VICTIM, FRESH MEAT FOR CARNAL DESIRES
LIKES: marijuana, cocaine, LSD, alcohol, stealing, cigarettes, being drunk, mooching off of people, being shirtless, men, sex, violence, his hair, himself, tattoos, being dominant, sunglasses, scarves, hair dye, being by himself, getting his way, latex paint, necklaces, swearing, cats, spiders, solitude, being alone, the moon, star gazing, mystery novels, scaring people, dark clothes, satin, cemeteries, scary movies, dust, old books, swings, chocolate, sneaking around, Victorian architecture, porcelain dolls, rodents, observing, small spaces, webs, exploring, staying up late, french fries, ice cream, slushies, swings, gore, classical music, saxophones, shiny things, very kind people, video games, photography, portraits, poetry, graphics design, surrealism, macabre, nude drawing, pills.
DISLIKES: not getting his way, being told no, being sober, large groups of people, pointing out his flaws, compassion, kindness, authorities, cake, dogs, milk, vegetables, nice people, looking cute, being fussed over, flowers, sunlight, hospitals, motherly people, dolls, overalls, romance novels, seeing people kiss, being bossed around, being short, children, homeless people, computers, walking up stairs, long hallways, modern art, tea, rules, being photographed, digital clocks, televisions, reality, warm days, bright colors, dancing, singing, talking to people, shopping, dating, when people don’t respond to texts right away, naked people.
FEARS: dogs, getting leukemia back, hospitals, children, the sun, bright colors, very happy people, cute baby animals, being attacked by zombies, losing any of his senses, bugs crawling into his ears and digging into his brain, his pants shrinking while on him.
SECRETS: he doesn’t think he can be liked, he gets cuddly after his night terrors, he’s a chronic liar, he had leukemia as a child, his parents hated him, he wet the bed until he was 12, gets night terrors, he has purposely killed any pet he has had that wasn’t a cat, how his criminal charges have been waved.
PERSONALITY:There is a lot of negative traits to Merrick that highly out weigh the positive in him. In fact it’s rather difficult to find any positive; it hides very well. First of all Merrick is a chronic liar. He doesn’t tell false tales about his life and what he’s been through but lies about smaller things. The most common false claims he tells are about his parents, exaggerating how his mother treated him and what his father and step mother are like. He might lie about a task you asked him to do or an assignment he didn’t hand in but never anything about what he has experienced. Though most people assume the leukemia and that he watched his mother die to be simply stories as well. Most people who know Merrick don’t believe most of what he says.
Merrick is also very superficial and shallow. He is only out for himself and will merely do things for his own personal gain. If he chooses to help someone out it is because it somehow benefits him, not because he actually cares. He is great at acting like he does sympathize despite that he doesn’t. With his superficial attitude comes false charm and narcissism. Merrick absolutely adores himself and everything about himself.
Aggression is very common with him and happens for many reasons. He lacks remorse and mercy and won’t hold back once he gets a chance to hurt someone. When angered he is a danger to those around him, even those he may care about. He is reckless, impulsive and rarely ever thinks before he acts. Merrick is easily annoyed at small things, most especially boredom. He simply can’t tolerate being bored and having nothing to do and will lash out at anything or anyone available simply to pass the time. He has a short and violent temper that is easily triggered.
Merrick has had trouble keeping friends but has recently discovered how to fake empathy and friendship. He has had large groups of friends despite his violent behavior and many people who have strongly cared for him. Sadly he has never really cared as deeply for them. On the surface he acts like he does but in reality he keeps them around for amusement and to pass the time. He has had no luck keeping romantic relationships and was only ever in it for sexual purposes. He is an abusive boyfriend.
But while Merrick ahs all these negative attributes there is a part of him that missed the normal childhood that he never got. Every now and then few people get the privilege of seeing Merrick get cuddly, juvenile and rather silly. He will get bouncy, full of energy, and very affectionate. There is no real reason for why he acts like this but it shows the ones he does care for that he isn’t the cold hearted bastard he seems to be. He can be very heartfelt during these times but will freak out if they are ever talked about.
TO BECOME WHAT I BECOME
I VIEWED THE SUN FOR THE VERY LAST TIME
I VIEWED THE SUN FOR THE VERY LAST TIME
MOTHER: Astoria Loveday, 48, dancer.
FATHER: Raphael Blake, 52, retired dancer, high school teacher.
SIBLINGS: None.
OTHER IMPORTANT PEOPLE:
ORIGIN: Iron Mountain, Michigan
HISTORY:She was loved, admired worshipped and in danger. She was a beauty, a doll, a dancer. She was Astoria Loveday. A ballet dancer working for one of the most famous companies in the world she was the “bell of the ball”, the one the audience came to watch and the one the dancers strove to beat. They loved and hated her, wanted to be her and wanted to be near her. She had an odd relationship with the dancers of her company. Astoria seemed unstoppable; a force to be reckoned with in the dance world. This deservingly conceited young woman never seemed to worry about the competition she had and all the jealous dancers living so closely to her. It seemed she would be forced to slow down, however. Too much late nights with the male dancers got her into some serious trouble. She was pregnant.
Her worst nightmares come true and to put her in an even worse position she wasn’t sure who the father was. She had slept with so many men and women in that time period she couldn’t be sure which one was the cause for her misfortune. She later confirmed that Raphael Blake was the father but before that she was a ball of fury no one wanted to approach. She tried to keep dancing and stay with the company but the owner wouldn’t have it. She would have to quit dance until after the baby was born because Raphael wouldn’t allow her to have an abortion. Those nine months, despite Raphael’s attempts at soothing the arrogant woman, were hell for Astoria,
From day one she hated Merrick Lucius Drake. A cute little baby boy with her eyes and his face she didn’t want anything to do with him. Raphael tried his best to take care of a baby while working to make money but he was only one man. Raphael could only do so much on his own, Astoria refusing to help at all. After three years of torture from Astoria Raphael left, leaving Merrick with his furious and careless mother.
The boy grew cold very fast. He was enrolled in private school so he’d be away from his mother as long as possible, only having to come home for two months in the summer. He grew cold at an early age, being shown no love of affection from his mother doing a number on his personality. Quite and dark he worried his teachers, especially when he took a keen interest in medieval torture and similar topics. He took to literature for comfort, having an intellectual mind and a thirst for knowledge. He read literature far beyond his age group and was able to recite Edgar Allen Poe passages off by heart.
He was an odd boy, that was for sure. Difficult for teachers to understand and impossible for other children to relate to. He spent most of his time alone, secluding himself in the library around a wall of old books of ancient histories and wars. When he was picked on he would grow violent, lashing out in convulsive aggression, unable to remember what he’d done once he had calmed down. His teacher attempted to call a meeting with Astoria but the woman was far to busy to care for her son.
The two months he spent at his mother’s home were always hell for him. While most children couldn’t wait to see their mother’s he would much rather die then have to be in the same room with that woman. He understood more than she ever gave him credit for, knowing just what she was doing while she tried so hard to hide it. He watched in the shadows as men and woman filed in and out of his mother’s bedroom, ages varying none looking in their best of health. He watched his mother do lines of cocaine on the kitchen table and shoot heroin in the living room, always to be tossed around like a rag doll.
Until the day came when Astoria would dive too deep. As Merrick stood in the shadows like a deer in headlights he watched his mother die. She had, as she commonly was, been with several men that night and one had not been very impressed. The man, the final to have visited her that night, argued with her about money little Merrick knew was for the drugs. He was nine years old with knowledge far too great for him. He watched silently as the last man to see his mother breathing beat her senseless. Merrick felt two things watching this; immense fright and great joy. He could understand many things far too old for him but this he couldn’t grasp.
Once he realized his mother was dead he left. He took nothing with him but for the clothes he had on and simply walked with no set direction in mind. He walked until he simply couldn’t any more and chose to sit down on a bench in a crowded park. As he sat, watching children and almost falling asleep several times, the people slowly flooding out and departing. Leaving him all alone as darkness fell he started to calm down. He felt comfortable by himself in the night though a wandering police official didn’t think he should be. Merrick was taken “down town” and Raphael Blake was found and called.
He was taken to a new town. An entirely new environment for him to get accustomed to. Fresh faces to hate but more small spaces for him to hide in. Raphael still danced but also taught in high school. He was married now to a woman named Carly who immediately chose to go through the adoption process for Merrick. He was their child now. There’s to love and cherish. But they quickly found they couldn’t relate to him. He wouldn’t speak of his mother and what happened to him, he wouldn’t really talk to them at all. When not attending public school he spent time exploring the attic or basement of his father’s house. He managed to find a hole in the attic that allowed him to safely walk in the walls.
He grew healthier as far as nutrition went, gaining a full diet with parents who cared for his well being. His general health, however, declined and quickly. He grew faint and exhausted easily, strong migraines and night sweats started occurring. What exactly was wrong with Merrick wasn’t diagnosed until he was hospitalized for pneumonia. At 12, going on 13, he was diagnosed with leukemia and treatment was to start immediately after he recovered from pneumonia. He stayed in the hospital for a full two years, gaining a tutor to visit him and the solitude he enjoyed. He was cruel to his room mates, often making their illnesses or injuries worse for his own enjoyment. During a psychiatric evaluation, now contained in a room of his own, he was diagnosed with “conduct behaviour” and labelled as a danger to others.
After two years caged in the hospital he was sent home but wasn’t out of the woods just yet. Now able to start high school he remained on chemotherapy. He looked at high school as an opportunity to experiment with the conduct disorder they said they had. He initiated fights on a daily basis, was mentally and physically cruel to people and even sexually assaulted people before. He was, of course charged for several of these but on court was deemed too mentally unstable for the charges to sit. The police file on him said “proceed with caution”, an achievement he is very proud of. Despite being sick still he did a lot of damage and Raphael and Carly were not proud. But they understood.
At age fifteen his treatment ended and he was “out of the woods” and was to wait four years before being considered “cured”. Of course there was always a chance that it would resurface, leukemia being an incurable disease. He knows this but really doesn’t care but he does just enough to get checked regularly. His conduct disorder continued once he was healthier, the charges piling only to be dropped one by one. Raphael and Carly really didn’t know what to do with him. His behaviour baffled them but they found that there was no helping the boy. No therapy seemed to work. He constantly lashed out at the two but oddly enough when he had night terrors would look to them for comfort. He could never recall what they were about, as it is for anyone who experiences them, but was clingy and infantile after wards. They were moments cherished by the couple, loving when he would cuddle up to one of them and fall asleep worrying about having another night terror.
At eighteen his conduct disorder developed into anti-social personality disorder. It was a stereotypical case that marked him as even more dangerous than before. He took to poetry, photography and drawing as a way to express himself and, for the first tie in a long time, politely asked Raphael and Carly for something. Usually demanding and yelling until he got what he wanted he brought up a well delivered proposal asking for him to attend university in New Orleans. They told him the only way they would let him attend is if he cleaned up his act. At least he tried? He was clean for a very short time, and even started at the University of New Orleans with some hopes for himself. And then he found some friends and ended up dropping out so he could do drugs instead.
WILL YOU STILL HOLD ME
WHEN YOU SEE WHAT I HAVE DONE
WHEN YOU SEE WHAT I HAVE DONE
ALIAS: Dee, but you can call me almighty lord and master.
AGE: Twenty this summer.
EXPERIENCE: Seven or so.
SAMPLE:
reggie, 1001, the beatles.
little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -As a child Cyril had been given a choice, attend a school for the blind or attend a regular school and have someone who helped him out. He’d chosen the latter each time. Cyril wanted to be as independent and normal as he could given the circumstances. He wanted to be able to do things on his own and live on his own without having to always rely on someone else. So far he felt that he wasn’t doing too bad of a job. The only thing he needed help with was cooking but he was determined to get the hang of that as well. Well, he had his guide dog’s help but that didn’t count in his eyes. Speaking of guide dogs…
He woke to Bijou licking his face playfully, telling him it was time to wake up. She was his alarm clock and woke him at the same time every day. How she knew he would never know, but he was thankful for it none the less. He smiled and reached out to pet her, feeling her soft fur against his skin and her heavy breaths on his face. “Bonjour Bijou,”
A quick and rather painful shower later, he slipped while coming out, he was counting his paces and feeling the wall to get back to his room. He moved slowly and cautiously, feeling around until he found his dresser. His hands moved over the top of it before sliding down the front and searching for the first handle, which he pulled and grabbed a pair of boxers and socks from. He did the same thing until he had a pair of loose fitting jeans, a tee shirt and a sweater, pulling each on after making sure they were facing the right way. He had no idea if they matched and personally didn’t care; the concept of looking good had always escaped him. Why bother when he couldn’t see himself?
He felt his way to the kitchen and carefully poured himself a bowl of cereal, using his finger to measure how much was in the bowl. He fed Bijou at the same time, enjoying the sounds of her chewing as he sat at the table. It was oddly quite that morning; his brother must have left already. Or sleeping still. Either way he didn’t like the silence. It was eerie and felt empty so he hummed softly as he finished up his morning routine, brushing his teeth and combing his hair, though it still looked messy. “Get my bag and my shoes,”[/color] he told Bijou as he sat down on the edge of the bed again. Seconds later she dropped his messenger bag as his side and his shoes right in front of his feet. He used his feet to feel for the right ones, slipped them on, then reached for his bad and the dog’s harness.
It wasn’t that Cyril had anything to do that day, he just felt like being outside. He didn’t like cooping himself up in doors. There was so much to hear and feel and smell outside. The air inside was stuffy and stale and left his mouth feeling dry. Besides, there was no harm in going for a walk. Well, none except tripping but that was something he was used to doing. Cyril fell on a regular basis, it was just how life went for him. He celebrated the days he didn’t trip or bump into something at least once. It was fun to just wander around Kyoto, letting Bijou guide him safely through the streets and going where she pleased. She always ended up leading him back to the apartment, so he had no problem letting her lead him aimlessly around town. Sometimes he met some very nice people while doing this, which was what he was hoping to do today.
His mind wandered as he walked, letting Bijou guide him through the halls and to the doors. She kept him close to the wall, his hand running along it lightly as he thought to himself. He thought about his music mostly, a soft tune playing in his head. As his fingers ran across the wall he hummed quietly. Cyril had never been much of a singer but humming he did a lot of. He didn’t have a very nice voice in his opinion and if he sang it was under his breath and usually in French. He was more comfortable using his first language. He almost always gave Bijou her commands in French as well though lately he had been getting her used to the other languages he knew. French and English weren’t the only languages he knew.
It wasn’t long before he felt himself reach the door, pushing them open with one hand and smiling brightly at the fresh air and beautiful smells. He took a deep breath in and just walked, loosening his grip on Bijou’s harness as they finally reached Central Park. She took this opportunity to walk off toward signs of life, pulling Cyril along happily. “Bijou slow down,”[/color] he commanded but she didn’t listen. She broke free of his loose grasp and ran for a girl, leaving Cyril to follow the sound of her dog tags. “Stupid dog,”[/color] he muttered under her breath, walking toward her sound much like a drunkard. “Bijou come back,”[/color] he called out, annoyed as he continued to follow the sounds.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/size][/blockquote][/center][/quote][/size][/blockquote]--------------------------------------------------
this app was made be dee. steal and a band of angry-ass vampire-robot-nazi’s will find you and go elizabeth bathory on your ass.
