Post by saultaylor on Jan 3, 2010 0:20:06 GMT -8
`you rule the world, you give the word.
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And if SAUL TAYLOR should fall behind...[/b]
"fever dreams that scare me sober..."
` you've got to learn to act like god.[/b][/size][/center]
, age 17.
, rp experience oh geez. five or six years.
, how you found us accio graphics (:
, contacts pm is awesome.[/size][/ul]
`just let their suffering slip your mind.
[/b][/size][/center], nicknames "eh, I don't really have any nicknames, Saul is short enough, right? erm... My boyfriend calls me Saulie sometimes, heh."
, age "Well... I'm eighteen; just turned it, actually."
, date of birth "My birthday's January Second; Almost a new year's baby. Everything about is pretty unremarkable. I was born in the young year of 1992."
, species "What? What sort of question is that? I'm... human, of course..." halfbreed. His father was a kelpie.
, canon canon indeed. Is his face claim close enough to Ryan Ross? He's a brunette and fairly scrawny.
, face claim Conor Oberst[/size][/ul]
`in which we nod in agreement.
[/b][/size][/center], weight "One eighteen... I told you! I'm tiny. I've never been very athletic so I don't have much muscle."
, tattoos&piercings "I have a small tattoo of a swallow on my shoulder blade- me and my mum got the same thing. I was fourteen, I didn't know any better, hah. I like it now- now that she's kicked it and all. I've had a lot of piercings, but right now all I have is my tongue-, oh, I know, I know. faggot has his tongue pierced? Wonder what the fuck he uses that for... Well you know, shut the fuck up."[/blockquote]
, distinguishing features
Distinguishing? Haha. Ask anyone that knows me- I'm the least distinguishing person there is. I've been told that I have a rather piercing gaze, though. I don't know.
, physical flaws Physical flaws? Where do I begin? I'm scrawny, for one- always have been, so I was always the object of more than a few fights. It's why I always have a knife on me- I grew up in a bad area, and I was always four or five years behind everyone in the developmental process, so... I needed to compensate some other way. No one messed with me once I pulled that thing out... Oh, yeah, back on topic. Erm... I've broken my nose three times, so it's sort of off centre. I dunno, I've been told it's cute. I can't grow a beard for shit- I mean, I can, but it takes a long while and while I'm waiting I have this horrible hobo neck beard. I also have asthma, but I don't know if that's the sort of 'physical flaw' you want.
, personal style
Sty..le? Style? I don't have one. I've worn the same clothes for... for a very long time. This shirt? I've had it since grade seven. This hoodie? Grade ten. I don't like shopping, you see? I would just rather wear the clothes I have, they're comfortable and the fit and that's all I need.
, general description
For his age, Saul is surprisingly small. Standing at around five six and weighing only about 110 pounds, He's not exactly the most difficult person to push around, but he's learned to make up for it. Long, skinny arms and legs, long fingers... He has a very narrow body, you could say, but it isn't all that 'girlish;' if anything, he looks like he's around fifteen, he's been told. When he was younger, he was very self-conscious about this, but he's gotten over it- he's small, and there isn't much he can do about that. It's okay.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]
his hair is also rather normal, just your average brown- he's never had much interest in changing the colour of his hair, since he's extremely low-maintenance and he really doubts that he'd look good in anything except boring brown. it's rather long in the front and shorter in the back, but by no means is it an 'emo' style haircut- rather, he refers to it endearingly as 'the Asian/lesbian haircut.' He started cutting it himself when he was a kid, and still does, though now from time to time he'll get lazy and let it grow down to his shoulders.
Eyes... Eyes are quite average, as well. Unless you count the fact that the young man is shorter than your thirteen year old sister as strange, He's overall an average guy. Brown eyes, of course, brown as the freckles littering his small nose... He likes his eyes, though, because in just the right light you can see how far from average they are. They change, you see- bits of green and swirling blues, golds, anything and everything. He's not exactly sure, but he thinks they reveal his emotions- when they're strong enough, he's sure.
`help me escape from lonely choirs
[/b][/size][/center]“Guitar, I'm sort of good at it and it passes the time. What more could I possibly want? Laughing, being happy. Who doesn't? Really warm, sunny days that aren't too hot so that I have to wear shorts. Sweaters, I’m almost always wearing one. Animals, especially cats. It sounds really pathetic, I know, but I’m really close to my cat. Water, it's all I drink unless I’m sick and then I'll drink orange juice. Video games- I’m not very good at them, but I like watching people who are really good play them. They get so excited, it’s hilarious. Birthdays- especially mine, I'll admit. Who doesn't enjoy getting presents? Going swimming, taking baths- I… I just like sitting there in the water and sort of relaxing. Music- I like a lot of various genres, I guess, from classical to nineties rock. My favourite, I think, is probably the stuff that gets shoved into the 'indie' category. Flowers. I’m no gardener or anything, I just like the way they smell, the way their petals feel. I like horror films, the smell of cigarettes, the colour grey.”
, dislikes
"The smell of cleaning supplies when they've just been used and the ammonia burns your nose. Applesauce, it just has this weird texture. Showers- I just don’t understand how anyone could prefer a shower over a bath. They’re not very comforting at all. People who act like they know everything there is to know about life just because they’ve read a Chuck Palahniuk novel or two. Orange juice- all other juices don’t bother me because I never have to drink them, but whenever I’m sick it’s all I’m allowed to drink, for serious. My medication- I mean, I shouldn't like the dreams, they scare me more than they please me but even the fear I enjoy. It makes me feel tired during the day and all..."
, strengths
"I don't really like bragging... But I suppose I'm pretty good at guitar. I'm a musician, you see; so I hope that I'm good. More than a musician, though, I'm a writer- I suppose poet is a more accurate term, but I think that makes me sound gayer than I already am, so author works for me. The music stint is really fun, but it's mostly to bring the money in- yeah, that's the only time you'll hear that, my music job is what brings money in... I write horror fiction- all of my poems and lyrics are pretty dark, though. I suppose that I'm pretty friendly, though, when I'm not in my grim moods..."
, weaknesses
"Weaknesses? Well, I've got my fair share of those, yes I do. Eh, I guess we'll start with the biggest, then... I've been seeing a therapist for a while for... I don't even know what. I have a temper problem, always had, though I don't like to admit it... And then with that comes the dreams, the dreams where I'm killing people and I'm really, really enjoying it... I guess I've always been fascinated with death. Not my own, but watching it, watching the life just flicker and extinguish... I'm sort of awkward around people I don't know, and when I'm in one of my writing moods, I can be pretty gloomy."
, goals
"Goals... Publish a book, probably. I've got a few short stories out there but they don't pay much and I can only live on inheritence money for so long... Erm, stay with Killian for at least a year. I've never dated anyone for that long, and I really like him... Maybe not love, but I mean, we've been living together for three or four months and he doesn't hate me yet, so that's something to be mighty proud of. And maybe, I don't know... not have to take the medication anymore. So I don't have to keep avoiding everyone's questions about why I carry pills around with me all the time."
, fears
"fears, now that's something you don't talk about every day. Erm... I'm afraid of a lot of things. I've never been very fond of vacuums, I don't know why. Heights scare the shit out of me. But mostly, though... I'm so afraid that I'll loose my temper really bad and do something that I'll regret... Or worse, that I won't..."
, secrets
"Secrets, haha. Well, the whole temper-dreams thing, that's a big one... I don't tell many people about that. Meaning any of them. Erm, when I was six I wanted to be Cinderella for Halloween? And my mum let me be. She thought it was cute. When my mum died, I didn't cry or anything. I just needed to see her die. The doctors wouldn't let me in there when she was dying and I had to really threaten them and squrim into the room to watch her die, but I did. They didn't think I could handle it or something. I wasn't sad, I didn't really feel anything but beauty- it's a beautiful thing, to die, to see death in front of you... I don't think that's normal."
, personality
"I need to talk about myself more? I think I covered everything.... Right? I mean, there's not much more to say... I don't think... Do you insist? oh, okay. I'm a pretty simple person at first- I'm just your local unsuccessful musician/author, kinda awkward, kinda friendly... I am both of those. Awkward, definitely and always. Friendly, well, mostly. Sometimes I slip. I'm fairly pleasant when I first meet someone, though- I don't like to get my own sadness in the way of someone else's day, and I know that it would ruin my day if I met me in one of my little grumpy little bitch phases. So I'm cordial, at the very least, when I meet someone- not too close, but friendly. I'm too suspicious to be close to anyone right away. Goes back to the knife in my pocket, I guess.[/size][/ul]
"After a while, though, if I still feel comfortable around you, I'll drop my guard down, and this is probably when I'm the best to hang around- the first month or two when I know you, when I feel okay around you but I don't feel like I'm allowed to tell you my problems yet... I'm really great to be around then, I'm a fucking blast. I'll go to parties with you and be silly and buy you shit just because I can... Well, after a while, I get to know you more and I feel like I can be miserable around you, and well, when the time strikes, I'll be miserable. Those that get used to it stick around. Those that don't, well, don't. It's sort of a shame, really. I've tried just not telling anyone anything and keeping all of that to myself, but then I get angrier and my lyrics and poems get darker and the dreams start popping up again even when I take my meds.
"I scare myself sometimes- the dreams and the anger and the poems, they scare me. Sometimes I hate everything I create, and they scare the fuck out of me and it scares me even more to know that I was the one who wrote it. But it's so true; it's waht I think about, it's what keeps me up at night. What would a person look like when they died? Do their lips turn blue after a certain amount of time? What does death smell like? What does blood feel like? How would they react during the struggle, how long would it take for them to give up, if at all? How would they look at you the moment you press the blade to their throat, the barrel to their temple? Would they hate you or feel sorry for you? I don't know. And as much as half of me never wants to know, the other half is pretty strong."
`cause this is about life.
[/b][/size][/center], father "I don't know. My mother's told me many, many times- she was sixteen, she was at some club, and she'd had too much to drink. She didn't even know which night it happened, let alone which guy." His father is a kelpie- lured his mother in one night with every intention of killing her, but her callous personality and unconventionally good looks enthralled him enough to just have sex with her and let her leave.
, mother "My mother, Susan... She was a wonderful woman. Well, wonderful in a way that no one else seemed to really had appreciated... She was a rough, bitter woman that most men couldn't stand but stayed around for, well... yeah. She always fell for the rough, abusive men, but in the end she usually ended up making them run away with their tails in between their legs. I loved her very much- I mean, she was all I had growing up, really. She died two years ago; car crash."
, sibling(s) "Oh, god no."
, pet(s) "I have a cat named Siddhartha- Sidd for short. He's a sweet thing, through a little temperamental around anyone else but me- I picked him out of an alley as a kitten, which is why he's missing an ear. He's my baby, man. He's adorable."
, other family "Well, there's my live-in butt buddy, Killian... Haha. No, He's my boyfriend, and I really like him, no lie. I don't think I could bring myself to say that I love him yet, but I really do like him a lot. I've lived with him for about three months now."
, history
Susan Taylor was known for a lot of things. She was known for her endless record with boys, for her sailor's tongue and for her rough, callous attitude. She didn't have many friends but she had limitless party buddies and even more boys on her phone that she could call up for a good time- she'd gained a reputation as the town horse from the tender age of thirteen, and at sixteen there was no letting up. The boys and men of the clubs and parties were beginning to bore her, though- which was when a perfectly sculpted, long-haired newcomer finally caught her eye. John, that was all he gave her. Or maybe he gave her more, but she was drunk and her memory had been fuzzy.
John had no intentions of taking her home and having a grand old time with her, or maybe just not in the way that Susan wanted him to- she was his latest victim, a young girl that he could bring to his lake and watch die... Even heavily inebriated, young Susan put up quite the fight even if there was no initial threat. She had a strong, caustic personality that the even the Kelpie couldn't keep up with- she was different, yes she was. She was ribald and independent and somehow endearing. For the first time in years and years and years, the creature let a victim go after a quick whirl around the bend, disappearing forever out of her life and into his lake...
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"And this is where my story comes in. I was born on a cold January morning to a young Susan Taylor- her parents weren't pleased that she'd gotten pregnant at sixteen, but then again, they weren't all that surprised, either. I grew up in a bad area, but it was all I knew; It was all right, I guess. knife fights and drivebys were... not that uncommon, to tell you the truth. But hey, C'est la Vie, eh? Erm. Even after grandma and grandpa had died very young and left me and Susan alone in the house when I was four and she twenty and the boyfriends started rolling in, it was all right. The boyfriends were usually very rough, but that was how my mother liked it- someone she knew would pose a challenge. If they so much as touched me, they were gone, usually bleeding on the sidewalk. Such was my mother. You get used to her after a while, promise.
"Well, I did. My childhood was fairly unremarkable; I grew up a tiny sensitive little gay boy in the rough and tough kill or be killed part of Nevermore; I needed to learn how to defend myself, and since I couldn't with bare fists and brute force, I bought myself a switchblade and learned how to at least scare people off with that. I've had to use it before, and... Well, that was probably the first time I realized that I was a little off, because it took a lot for me to not keep stabbing the guy. I wanted to see him bleed... And all he had done was try to pickpocket me, and he had a knife so I showed him mine and he tried to get a little crafty... He didn't end up dying, which was sort of a disappointment. As terrible as it sounded, I wanted him to get what he deserved.
"That was about when my mum started sending me to these community-paid therapy sessions; she'd always known about the dreams, where I'd scream and freak and cry while I was dreaming but be completely fine, a little delirious but calm and almost happy when I woke up. So after the knifing incident, she thought she would try to make a parenting move and send me to see someone to talk to- they started giving me medicine for the dreams, medicine for the anger. Medicine for the highs, medicine for the lows. They thought about it for a long while, until they decided I was manic-depressive; I had to be, that was the only thing that almost fit. Medicine to sleep. Medicine to sleep for a long, long time kept in the cabinet for my mum to use on me. Just in case. I never really knew what they were just in casing.
"So there went my adolescence in a fit of medicine, drinking and parties... I wasn't as into it as my mum had been, but I liked the scene- there was a nice little club not too far from a subway exit where I would meet boys and take some home, or go to their homes and shit... My mum didn't care. I don't think she ever cared about that- my 'coming out' was her walking in on me and some twenty two year old, and she just laughed and said that she was glad that I wasn't going to knock some girl up, at any rate.
"And then, four months later, she died. She was on her way to work- passenger seat, she never drove a day in her life and carpooled- when a truck plowed into the car. I was pulled out of school and sent to the hospital to await the news- I needed to see her. As soon as they said that she was going to die, I needed to see her. I needed to see what it looked like. If she wasn't going to be with me anymore, I at least needed to see how she ended. I fought and fought and I think I even pulled a knife on a doctor just to threaten, you know, but eventually I wiggled my way into the room and... watched. I sat down and held her hand and there were nurses around trying to stabilize her or hold her skull in place or something and they all tried to work around me but eventually... the beeping stopped. They called out a time. The security guard pulled me away from her so they could put her in a big bag and bury her two days later.
"I lived alone for a long time; I stopped going to school, since it never really helped and the teachers never really cared, and started doing what I loved extensively- writing and playing music. It's hard to find a good gig, and even harder to get published, but every once and a while I can land something that gets me some cash to blow on the weekends at the club. Which was what happened one lucky Saturday- I had just got a bit of cash from a tiny little set at a hip coffee shop, and had just enough money to get to the club... And fuck, man, there he was. My Killian. I think he came up to me first- it makes sense, since I'm initially very timid- and we just sort of clicked... We actually exchanged phone numbers, which was unheard of for me, and eventually we started dating... And then we moved in together. And I'm happy with him, really happy; I just wish I would stop having dreams in which I kill him."
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` which only hollow voices sing.
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and I'm not sure if the face claim is similar enough? If so, I'll make that banner right away. (:, member title the dreamer.
, rules word -admin edit-
, rp sample .
from tip the scales
This concept perplexed Louis, the boy who had never taken a science class before- it's not like his parents had made him go to a muggle school or anything. All he knew was reading and writing and adding things and subtracting. Any more, and, well... He'd have to ask someone else, because he still hadn't mastered that third year charm that acted as a calculator. "What? That's nonsense," He protested, kicking the snow in question. "It snows more the colder it gets, doesn't it?" it sounded absolutely absurd, that it would stop snowing because it was cold. That was what made it snow, right? The cold froze... the water in the air... and then the air fell. He didn't really know how it worked, but then again, he was hardly interested.
Lou hadn't even realized his foul mouth, so he had to wrack his mind as to what Jenna meant when she exclaimed "Language, LouLou!", but eventually, it clicked. He peered cautiously into the window to see if any parents had noticed (or worse, grandma molly); once he was satisfied that they had not, he turned and frowned at her. "Don't call me Loulou." He let her call him that before, grudgingly, but over the past few years it was slowly turning into Zack's nickname, something only the Gryffindor could get away with. There really wasn't anything Jenna could do about it; I mean, it's not Jenna's fault that Louis was infatuated with his male best friend and not for his female best cousin. It really wasn't.
"And I was totally serious. It doesn't clash with your hair like the Hufflepuff yellow does." Lou frowned at this, tugging at the shirt- at least it wasn't skin tight or anything. It was actually a perfect fit, really comfortable and warm... and pink. "It makes me look like Dominique... No, Dominique wouldn't even wear this, she hates pink. I'm never going to hear the end of this, I know it." At least his dad wouldn't let her tease him about it while he was around, he knew that much. But when they were alone and she was angry at him, sure, the mockery would begin and Louis wouldn't really have anything to say back because he was about as ashamed as he could be of that thing.
Lou had made some comment about the - gnomes eating the Christmas candy, and to his amusement Jenna had flipped; ”You should not joke about that Louis Weasley! Louis laughed, grinning at her pronunciation this time- she always over embellished his name when in full. ”Lou-EE Weas-LEE. Have I mentioned I love your name?” Lou shook his head; of course she had. Many, many times. "I don't think you have, Jenna, darling," He joked as he followed her up the tree, scrambling a little bit higher; he loved heights. He used to be terrified of the very idea, but once he had taken his flying lesson, he had realized that maybe brooms and flying high above the sky wasn't so bad after all. In fact... It was exhilarating. It was enough to risk being hit with bludgers and hexed by members of the opposite time and joining Quidditch, even if he didn't get the position he had wanted. And now that he thought of it, it was a good thing- he had tried out for beater. The bludger probably weighed more than he did, in retrospect.
Eventually Jenna climbed back down to terra firma, but Lou wasn't ready to give up his position- the tree creaked painfully as he swung around it, tightening his grip on it with his knees crossed as he slipped around, hanging upside down like a monkey. He felt silly and a little childish like this, but it was nice to feel happy- not happy at the sake of others, not happy in spite of everything around him, just... childishly happy. His cloak kept getting in the way of his backwards vision, the blackness covering up Jenna and the snow and the gnomes... After a while, all of the blood has rushed to his head and he grabbed a hold of the branch and eased himself to the snowy ground as well. He straightened out his clothes, and his hand hit a rough patch on his otherwise smooth cloak- that damn label.
”Do you think I’ve gotta sew a patch on my Weasley jumper?” the words came out so sadly, and right on cue. Lou was thinking on the same topic- he picked at the hemming on the dark purple cloth with the silver lettering: HALFBREED. In smaller letters, a quote from the January letters describing his rights, his curfew, the fact that he was completely unequal to the rest of his pureblood family. He felt bad for Jenna and her dark red label; in some people's eyes, she was worse than the muggles. They thought she had stolen magic. Something to that effect. With Lou, he was just the product of bestiality. It wasn't him that was looked down upon so much as it was his parents.
"They said you had to sew it on all of your outside clothes," he replied sadly, trying to find a loose part in the hemming- it had become a sort of nervous habit for him, pulling at his patches. His mother had sewn them on like a pro, though, so there was no chance of that- eef we are to wear zem, we might azwell wear zem properly, she had explained that first day, wiping the tears from her eyes. There were only a few items of clothing of theirs that had escaped the label- a few of her better robes and Lou's green robes that he had begged her not to destroy. ”I hate these stupid laws, gaaaaah!” She scowled, pulling at her hair. In a very un-lou-like attempt to make her feel better, Louis moved closer to her, wrapping his own thin arms around the tiny shoulders of his muggleborn cousin. "It'll be okay," he promised- he had no basis for it, but he just knew it would be all right- sooner or later, it would have to resolve. He pulled away from the hug gently, trying to smile in spite of things. Things would have to resolve. Eventually. Maybe.
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` are there giants too, in the dance?
[/b][/size][/center]This application was made exclusively for Nevermore by Maura Lee Bee. Steal it, and I will release the hounds when you least expect it. And they're not cute little puppies either. They are ravenous beasts because I constantly forget to feed them. They bite, by the way. And love flesh. Don't make me release the hounds. O _ O
Lyrics are from Meg & Dia's "Are There Giants Too, In the Dance?" on their album Here, Here, and Here.
[/size]Lyrics are from Meg & Dia's "Are There Giants Too, In the Dance?" on their album Here, Here, and Here.
