paralyzed.

Skeleton Title: The Hellkite

Character Name; Foster Lawrence

Character Age: 24

Character Gender & Pronouns: Cismale, He/him

Character Occupation: Mechanic

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

This is the most important and probably the fun part of the application. This is where you get to describe and breathe life into the character that you are applying for! Some ideas for this section are: headcanons, bios, journal entries, graphics, paras, mockblogs, playlists, etc, anything that can tell us how you plan to portray this character and who this character is to you.

biography;

Foster Lawrence was born and raised in Misty, Georgia. He grew up on the wrong side of town with an absent father and a drug-addicted mother, left to fend for himself against the cold, abrasive world. But the world got him. It wrapped it’s dark, torturing hands around him and gripped him tight, and no one’s been able to pry his body from them since.

He was that one kid in school. You know the one; Dark, demented, always alone and liked it that way. If you barked, he’d bark back. And trust me, his bite was worse. He was known for a fight here and there, but ultimately, he was known for his nicknames. 

Foster was by no means popular, but if he gave you a nickname, it stuck. Ever heard of Knicker-Bottom-Betty? How about Desert Daisy? The second that Lawrence kid saw you in your worst possible position, he pounced, and names that follow you for life are the result.

Because of this, Foster became known as the school bully. Did he necessarily mind? No. In fact, he basked in the glory of his ultimate hatred— it kept the people away from him, and that was his top priority. This kept on throughout high school, and the more people herded away from him, the darker he got.

Some people breed kindness from the shitshow of a life they’ve been given, but Foster bred darkness. He thrived in it; He thrived from his own demise, and the demise of others.

In his senior year of high school, Foster began watching those who wandered into the woods. He loved to hear their screams, loved to eavesdrop on their so-called ghost stories that they told at night— those who made it to night. But more than that, he loved to watch them run from the forest like their lives depended on it. Some do it just for the fun, others swear on their lives they saw something in the trees.

What a shame Melanie didn’t get that chance.

Melanie was one of the few people that Foster had failed to see enter those Georgia woods, and since her disappearance, he has become curious about the entire situation. Some would say obsessed. He has his own theories, just as everyone else, and he’s determined to see if he’s right.

headcanons;

Foster left home the second he turned seventeen, jumping from abandoned building to abandoned building until he finally got the money to rent a shitty apartment. His mother didn’t notice his absence, of course— Hell, she still called for Foster’s dad when she was too drunk to make it off the couch. He got a job as a mechanic a few months before, and since then, it’s been his only source of income.

I don’t write smut— But he’s more than likely got a daddy kink tbh. Just had to get that out there. This is awkward now. Kbye.

mini-playlist;

wires - the neighbourhood

pumped up kicks - foster the people

such horrible things - creature feature

stomach it - cry wolf

we must be killers - mikky ekko

creep - radiohead

come as you are - nirvana

cold cold cold - cage the elephant (funny thing— they went to my high school and middle school)

edits;

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: Tess

Age: 16

Timezone: cst

Activity level: I am usually very active during the week, right after school i’m on, and usually stay on until 10-11, unless I’m at my mom’s house, who doesnt have signal or wifi. Luckily, I stay with my dad most nights! I’d say I’m a 7/10!

Triggers: Incest and Miscarriages

Fun Fact: UMMMMMM I just made it to season 10 of supernatural and I’m not okay???? And I like wolves so there’s that <3

Dimitri snorted in response. This guy didn’t look a day over twenty-two. “Poking around?” Something Dimitri, himself, was still learning how to handle. Not very well, apparently. “You made it my business when you shot off at the mouth to the whole place. I just had the balls to approach you.” He pointed to the other side of the building, where his friend waved teasingly. “See my guy over there? I’m a lot nicer than him, but he doesn’t like this Alyssa shit. So maybe pipe it, yeah? Some people are trying to enjoy their night.”

         ❛ Is drinking on the job supposed to help you out there, detective? ❜ The mechanic inquired, brows arching in curiosity. He had felt pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal himself and had to admit that even he had indulged in a drink here or there but it was different when he was off the clock. ❛ Look, I wanna help..but the last thing I need is to get in trouble for knowing too much about an investigation that’s supposed to be curtains to anyone other than those working it. ❜

“Woah buddy, you’re reacting just like how I heard the crippling news of One Direction’s hiatus.” A suppressed sigh would instantly fall, shaking her head and reliving the heartbreaking news hitting the air waves. Years later and they lied, no new album and no new performances to Stockholm Syndrome. How would she ever live? Lost in her own thought, Louise snapped out of it before inhaling sharply, only to realize there has been a dead body found on the train not long ago. Yeah, how could she have forgotten? “You really think drinking is going to help you?” 

The one man conversation called to her attention, shifting her gaze over to where he sat. She watched him for a moment, listening to him speak to himself. “Do you really think you’ll be solving a murder with vodka?” Her tone was incredulous, though she had a look of amusement in her eyes.

Dimitri raised a brow at the other, his amusement with the situation showing full-force on his face. “Are you serious?” He laughed, shaking his head. Dimitri knew that half the town was crazy for following the news of Alexis whatever-her-name-was like religion, but now this was too much. “Listen, I don’t think drinking is going to help your little cuckoo problem. Might make it worse. Maybe stop talking to yourself about some dead bitch first. People are gonna start thinking you’re bonkers, mate.”

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quiet Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Quinn arched her brow at the detective. She’d seen him around while she was being questioned- read: tortured via her inane questions- but hadn’t spoken to him. Nevertheless, she doubted that his abilities as a detective would be improved by alcohol. “I’m not a detective, so I’m not familiar with the protocol, but I doubt any murder investigation would be improved with vodka.”

                 “Jesus Christ, Sherlock, calm down.” It seemed that everyone was interested in the case of Alexis ( something that the dead girl would thrive on ), “I’ll buy the first round.”

“Sorry, are you talking to me or…” Penny scanned the side of the bar on which they were both situated, noting that the next few seats were empty. “…Yourself. Wait is this about that dead girl?” Alexis. She’d heard the name enough to know it, but outside of the wild display back on the ‘murder train’, she felt entirely disconnected from the case. “I have a friend assigned to that case. Are you guys partners, or is this more of a Nancy Drew sort of thing? Anyway,” she lifted a hand, waving the bartender down to their end of the watering hole. “First round is on me.”

      ❛ —I think we need a time out. ❜ He mumbled as his thumb and index finger remained firmly clamped against the bridge of his nose. The last thing Elvis had wanted to do was get involved with any of this, especially after what happened on the train. ❛ Somehow I don’t think vodka is gonna cut it. ❜

Brandon wondered what it’d be like, to have Bailey spread out beneath him, writhing and obeying to the tug of Brandon’s fingers tangled in brunet’s hair as he trailed languid, wet kisses along the exposed canvas of other’s neck. The way he’d moan if Brandon’s hand wrapped around the back of Bailey’s neck to pin him down as he took him slowly, so he could feel every inch of him going in and out. He wondered how easy it’d be for both of them to get lost in the pleasure and then whether it’d be equally hard to go back to their previous dynamic in the morning. Would they even wake up side to side or sneak out of each other’s places in walks of shame, as though there was something shameful about it? 

There was something about Bailey that had him wondering rather than just acting the way he would if anyone else was concerned and thought it was impossible, it was almost as though he cared what the future entailed for the two of them. Though his lids have grew heavier and his breathing deeper and more labored, Brandon broke the silence with a temporary retreat “You’re the only person who thinks I’m mysterious. I’m as basic as they get.” Or at least it’s how he liked to portray himself. Mysterious people attracted attention, and though Brandon enjoyed this kind of attention, he couldn’t allow himself to get reckless and start displaying patterned behavior. It was what got every brilliant serial killer caught, not that he identified himself with such men. 

Knowing that sex would be last thing on Bailey’s mind as soon as he utters his upcoming words, Brandon let his hand fall down from where it rested against Bailey’s skin “I’m going against the system, B. Tomorrow I’m leaving the town for couple of days to try and gather some evidence, hopefully a gun used in a covered up a murder. I need you to take a deep breath, because I’m going to need your help in framing Sheriff Andrews.” 

Bailey couldn’t deny, he’d thought of it before; The taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands tracing his body in places the public eye wouldn’t dare glance, the feeling of his dark brown locks tying between his fingers as he tugged with every thrust. To be truthful, it was all he could think of when they first met. he wanted to find and mark every mole on his body, to claim him in ways no other could, but he subsided those thoughts at the realization that this could be a real friendship, that he could care for someone after what had happened.

“Even if I’m the only one, it just means I get to watch you more, trying to figure out why you’re so mysterious...” His smile curled into a smirk and he moved closer, their chests grazing together. he could feel Brandon’s hot breath fanning his face, and he was so close, so close. He was just about to lean in when that name fell from his lips.