#hellas.intro

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦  ..

full  name:  riki  ishikawa.

nicknames:  nothing  really,  unless  you  like  testing  fate  !

gender & pronouns:  cis  man,  he/him.

sexuality:  bisexual.

age:  twenty5.

date of birth:  october  28th,  1966.

hometown: creeks nest, north carolina.

zodiac sign:  scorpio.

occupation:  freelance  photographer  &  artist.

languages spoken,  in  order  of  fluency:  english, japanese.

family:  masaki  ishikawa  (father,  estranged),  kasumi  ishikawa  (mother,  deceased),  yuki  ishikawa  (older  brother,  status  unknown),  mei  ishikawa  (younger  sister,  deceased).

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘   ..

faceclaim:  nagumo  shoma.

height:  5'11''.

build:  athletic.

hair:  nearly  black,  grown  out  and  frequently  tied  back  in  lieu  of  styling.

tattoos  &  piercings:  too  many  to  count.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬   ..

(+)  courageous,  loyal,  perceptive,  resourceful,  adaptable,  imaginative,  creative,  bold.

(-)  self-destructive,  rebellious,  irresponsible,  reckless,  cynical,  resentful,  temperamental,  defensive.

mbti:  istp  -  the  virtuoso.

moral  alignment:  true  neutral.

habits:  rolling  his  eyes,  getting  on  the  defense,  cracking  his  knuckles,  speaking  before  he  thinks.

𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬 ..

trigger warnings : car accidents, parental + familial death.

the  ishikawa's  bring  their  second  child  into  the  world  only  a  year  after  immigrating  to  the  us,  riki,  to  be  strong  and  powerful.  but  their  second  son  is  docile  next  to  their  first,  preferring  finger  paints  to  playing  in  the  mud.  father  is  too  busy  building  his  empire  to  notice,  and  mother  is  too  fond  of  his  softness  to  pay  it  mind.  a  year  and  a  half  later,  they  bring  their  third  child  into  the  world,  bright  and  beautiful  mei.  while  the  eldest  busies  himself  with  sports  and  school,  the  younger  two  of  the  ishikawa's  are  two  peas  in  a  pod  from  the  first  spring  mei  is  born. camp  hollow's  river  is  their  parents'  first  attempt  to  socialize  the  two,  force  them  out  of  the  codependency  before it  started  to  bleed  into  their  teenage  years.  it's  futile,  even  if  the  camp  helps  them  make  some  friends  along  the  way.  mei  was  stronger  than  riki,  a  little  bit  more  charming  and  friendly  than  he  was.  they  return  every  few  summers,  and  it's  like  she  never  left,  all  while  he  remains  in  the  shadows  wishing  he  was  anywhere  else.  the siblings become staples at camp. mei with her friends, and riki who never seems to be around. riki  doesn't  remember  when  he  started  to  rely  on  her  too  much,  until  verge adulthood  comes  around  and  a  massive  fight  erupts  between  the  two.  "you're  suffocating!  too  suffocating,  riki! like a shadow that won't leave me alone!"  the  words  are  imprinted  in  his  mind,  whatever  he  managed  to  spew  back,  lost  in  the  grander  moment.  they're  in  the  backseat  of  mom's  car,  arguing  about  some  boy  mei  had  been  hiding  from  him,  because  it  was  easier  than  having  her  nosy  brother  start  asking  too  many  questions.  it's  raining  outside,  screams  louder  than  the  emergency  weather  alert  sounding  off  on  the  radio.  somewhere  between  dickhead  and  bitch,  their  mother  loses  control  of  the  wheel,  swerving  right  into  a  telephone  line.  kasumi  ishikawa  is  pronounced  dead  on  impact.  her  son  sustains  a  broken  leg  and  a  fractured  wrist,  and  her  daughter  escapes  with  a  few  scratches  and  bruises. they  don't  talk  about  that  night.  they  don't  go  back  to  that  camp  either.  at  least  riki  doesn't. there's  an  inheritance  waiting  for  him  the  day  he  turns  eighteen.  something  about  generational  wealth  on  his  mother's  side,  and  his  father,  who's  managed  to  turn  that  empire  of  his  into  something  great,  is  more  than  happy  to  let  his  son  run  free.  instead,  he  gets  himself  a  job  as  a  mechanic  fresh  out  of  high  school,  breaks  spent  on  doodling  in  some  worn  down  sketchpad.  he  doesn't  think  about  camp  hollow's  river,  not  when  there's  a  bad  omen  looming  over  the  place.  but  his  sister  thinks  of  it.  and  of  course  she  does.  it  had  been  where  she  thrived  after  all.  says  she  ought  to  spend  her  first  summer  free  back  there  as  a  counselor. he  doesn't  ask  her  to  stay.  the  summer  of  ‘87  comes  around,  and  every  plea  is  kept  in  the  depths  of  his  mind.  instead,  riki  ignores  the  gnawing  feeling  of  letting  mei  go,  of  finally  being  out  of  reach  where  he  couldn’t  protect  her.  but  he  knew  the  truth,  knew  he  hadn't  been  the  same  old  brother  to  her  since  the  night  their  mother  died.  he's  angry  and  drunk  the  night  before  she  leaves,  profanities  that  leave  his  mouth,  and  a  bitter  conversation  between  the  two.  with  every  shred  of  insecurity,  he  pushes  her  further  away,  right  to  the  steps  of  the  camp  that  both  of  them  knew  so  well.  and  it  was  something  he'd  regret  till  the  day  he  dies  too. 

mei  doesn't  come  back  that  summer.  she  never  comes  back  at  all.  she  dies  with  the  memory  of  her  bitter,  jealous  brother  at  the  hands  of  some  fanatic psycho.  he  closes  every  open  door  after  that,  cashes  in  his  inheritance,  and  hits  the  road.  riki  never  intends  to  return,  especially  not  back  to  creek's  nest.  until  he  hears  word  the camp is  back,  calling  to  him  like  some  sadistic  siren. in their final moments together, mei caved and asked riki to go with her, just like old times. he'd denied her then, told her he had nothing to go back to. but now it feels like he does. redemption, vindication, the ghost of his sister pulling him back in. he drives his beat up chevy back home, and ignores the sinking feeling of the summer ahead.

of  course,  he'd  always  been  his  sister's  shadow.

𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ..

guilt!  guilt-ridden!  blames  himself  for  what  happened  to  his  mother  and  his  sister,  not  a  day  goes  by  that  he  doesn't  wallow  in  silence  about  it.  causes  him  to  be  unfriendly  towards  others  and  estranged  from  the  rest  of  his  family  —  has  zero  contact  with  his  father  and  older  brother  (both  of  which,  leading  successful  lives  without  him  anyway). 

while  he  grew  up  sweet  and  gentle,  the  kind  who'd  probably  adopt  and  nurture  a  wild  bunny  and  whimsically  run  through  fields  of  flowers,  present-day  riki  is  an  entirely  different  breed.  knuckles  that  are  permanently  scarred  and  bruised,  tattoos  running  up  and  down  his  arms,  constant  downturn  to  his  lips  with  narrowed  eyes.  if  menacing  had  a  picture  next  to  it,  he'd  be  a  top  contender  on  exterior  alone.

most  likely  to  be  forced  into  manual  labor  rather  than  entertaining  the  children.  he  ain't  all  that  mean  to  them  (at  least...  the  young  ones,  that  is).  something  about  a  potty  mouth  and  an  unapproachable  nature.  some  of  the  kids  have  built  up  an  image  about  him  in  their  heads,  that  he's  an  underground  boxer  (unconfirmed),  frequents  sneaking  out  late  at  night  for  more  than  just  a  quick  smoke  (true),  and  once  made  a  pre-teen  pee  his  pants  (false—  kid  just  got  stranded  before  making  it  to  the  bathroom).

THE BASICS:

name: michael 'duckie' christopher mallard

pronouns: they/he

gender: gender non-conforming

birthday/zodiac: thirty, march 25th. aries.

relationship status: single

sexuality: homosexual

occupation: assistant manager at pet paradise

pets: a rotating series of sea monkeys. they, uh...don't last very long.

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS:

traits: compassionate, anxious, humble, withdrawn, loyal, awkward, well-intentioned, passive.

likes: waving up at the night sky just in case there’s someone out there, discussing the current state of frog conservation in north carolina, sitting in comfortable silence, new episodes the simpsons.

dislikes: cold pizza, not being to find a matching sock, the taste of toothpaste, black coffee, getting lost, escalators

HEADCANONS:

duckie doesn’t really…get gender. they identify as a shrug and ‘i dunno, man…’ but they/he pronouns work just fine too!

they’re gay gay gay! they tried girls for all of five seconds in high school and it just wasn’t for him. not that they’ve had any luck with guys either though. the rumors are true - duckie’s never really…had sex before. mouth stuff, sure! but he’s never gone all the way. not that there’s any shame in it! but, unfortunately, other people sure seem to think there is.

duckie is also autistic. they’ll always look in the middle of your forehead instead of your eyes and that new show - the simpsons - has been giving him a whole lotta new vocal stims. and be warned, if you’re going to have a conversation with duckie then be prepared to discuss frogs. they’ve been his special interest since he was thirteen and he can name all of the species narrative to north carolina like it’s second nature. 

'where the hell did 'duckie' come from' you ask? unfortunately there isn't any cool backstory behind it. it's what their mom calls them. always has, probably always will. and then as he got older, it just became how they'd introduce themself. they do fear that it might confuse people though, as duckie doesn't really have any interest in ducks.

SOME IN-CHARACTER Q'S & A'S

( so you know what you're in for )

what  is  your  favorite  summer  memory?  i  heard  you've  been  here  before,  does  it  involve  our  trees  and  bonfires?  or  is  it  just  a  random  blessing  from  the  outside  world?

duckie blinked hard. their time as a counsellor had been majorly uneventful - a quick attempt at trying to fill up his summer after finishing high school that had become a more regular thing. they’d mainly just grossed out some of the more squeamish younger campers by trying to spot as many frogs as possible (camp was swimming in wonderful ornate chorus frogs!). it actually wasn’t too different from their time as a camper.

suddenly, their eyes went wide and bright. “oh, i know! my second year of camp - when i was fourteen, these older kids tried to, like, punk me or something by scooping up a bunch of pond scum from the lake and dumping ‘em on my bed. little did they know, they had just thrown at least ten pine barrens treefrogs onto my mattress! our state frog! super rare because they’re such good lil’ hiders!” 

duckie beamed and nodded at the memory. “oh, yeah, that was the best!”

you  know,  we  got  this  tradition  around  here...  counselors  can  help  around  with  the  camp's  playlist.  share  your  top  three  favorite  songs  and  pray  we  have  the  cd  around.  oh,  and  you  can  sing  a  bit  too  if  you  want...  the  kids  will  ask  for  it,  for  sure.

“o-oh, yeah! yeah, i remember that,” duckie replied with a nod, smiling. they paused for a moment in thought, wondering if it would be seen as funny or fucking lame to mention how none of his songs from their counselor days ever made it onto the playlist because no one else had heard of dolly mixture or whatever weird shit duckie had been listening too at the time - their music taste changed every few calender months. even now, he was always the first to ask people if they wanted to trade cds or vinyls or cassettes in hopes that he’d get to listen to something new. 

“i’ll try and pick kinda recent ones, ya’know? my, uh, my first one would probably be i’m hungry by the sugarcubes - i just think the lead singer girl has this crazy weird voice, ya’know? really rad even though i don’t really have a fucking clue what she’s saying. and i’d also choose life during wartime, the talking heads song - you probably know that one, right? b-but the live version from the movie! it’s two minutes longer.” 

duckie cracked their knuckles in nervous habit. “and my third one has to be here’s where the story ends. by the sundays. it’s my favorite song ever. i love all of their tracks. it, uh, it goes like -” duckie gave an awkward laugh, face going pink, “-it's that little souvenir of a terrible year, which makes my eyes feel sore. oh, i never should have said the books that you read were all i loved you for…” they trailed off, shrugging. “it, ya’know, sounds way better in the actual song.”

now,  share  a  story.  no,  i’m  being  super  serious.  bedtime  story,  horror  story,  childhood  story,  fairy  tale  story,  any  story,  because  you  will  have  to  update  your  repertoire  with  the  kids,  you  know?  they  love  listening  to  any  kind  of  story  or  fun  fact.

“a story?” duckie furrowed their brow, wracking his brain for anything half decent to say. his brain just kept flicking back to what he had watched on tv the night before - a rerun of an episode of the simpsons. their favorite show right now alongside blossom. but neither of those shows had any kind of good camp stories…unless. “o-okay, i’ve got one. a real good one.”

duckie dramatically cleared his throat, trying to hype himself up. “okay, so i’m gonna tell you a story about a typical, all-american family. e-except, they weren’t in america at the start, they were on vacation! in, uh, morocco i think! anyway, wherever they were, they found a creepy oddity store - the type with weird shit in jars and shrunken heads and real gross stuff! and the dad, let’s call him…um…omar saw a shriveled, monkey’s paw. oooh, creepy, right?”

duckie smiled a little to themself. this was going good! 

“then the store vendor gave omar a warning; the paw grants four wishes, but every wish comes with a price!,” they continued. “back home in, uh, springville, they began to make their wishes. they wished for a fancy car but that back-fired. literally! and then they wished to be super rich and famous but everyone else in town hated them because everywhere they turned was the simps - i mean! the, uh, the sampsons!” they blinked a few times, trying to get back on track. 

“then the middle child - lina - made a wish for world peace! everyone was singing and dancing and it was awesome. for, like, two seconds! because once humanity laid down its arms - that’s kind of another word for weapons - … aliens invaded. these two green, tentacled creatures enslaved the earth!” duckie paused for dramatic effect, leaning in close. “omar then took the paw and made the final wish: a turkey sandwich. he took a bite and…the turkey…was a little dry!”

duckie then sat back with a nervous smile and nod, pleased albeit a little self conscious. they were never a great story-teller, they were a lot better with fact reciting but he had the feeling no campers were interested in hearing about sea monkeys or frogs or whatever strange little creatures duckie happened to know a lot about.

“that was, uh, just from the treehouse of horror. from the simpsons, ya’know. that’s what their halloween episode was called - the one from last year. but it’s a really good one! i think it’s pretty creepy but it’s kinda funny too. it’s, uh, it’s funnier in the actual show. i missed a lot of the good stuff.”

ok,  so,  now,  just  between  us:  do  you  believe  in  the  supernatural?  i'm  not  exactly  allowed  to  ask  that  but,  yeah,  i  had  to.  see,  this  camp  is  full  of  lore,  and  some  say  it's  haunted.  maybe  you  will  hear  one  thing,  see  two  things  or  three  but  hey,  it  could  be  the  wind!  so,  are  you  a  believer?  are  you  religious?

duckie scratched at the inside of his elbow. “ok, so, like, full disclosure? no, “i don’t believe in... that. ghosts and demons and campfire curses and whatever,” they said, fingertips on his left hand tapping together as he spoke. “i mean, i want to. i think life would make more sense if there was something extra like that. like, cosmic or haunted or divine. but there’s not. it’s just, like, static on the radio and your brain filling in the blanks, you know?” duckie tapped their temple twice with two fingers like they were knocking on a door. 

“but still, sometimes late at night when i was a kid at camp and the lake got real still and everything got quiet and... i dunno.” duckie scratched behind his ear, frowning thoughtfully before shrugging. “i think especially when, ya’know, bad shit happens people try really hard to give it a reason. i think it’s easier for some people to think there’s some kinda creepy thing doing it all instead of…people? life? bad luck? i dunno.” he smiled, kind of crooked. 

“as for religious? nah. tried that. didn’t stick. like velcro on glass. went to catholic school and everything and i just turned out queer!”

what  are  your  expectations  around  this  summer?  we  know  the  pay  is  good,  but  beyond  this  financial  compensation,  what  are  you  looking  forward  to  doing  around  here?  and  what  do  you  hope  to  avoid?

duckie blinked hard a few times, eyes darting toward the corner of the ceiling like he was chasing a thought with a butterfly net. "well," duckie started, drawing the word out like they were testing its shape, "i used to have a lot of fun here. sure, i was mainly by myself but i liked that! looking for frogs, going for walks and stuff. who knows, maybe there’s a kid here who also really likes those things and wants a buddy!” he paused, tilting their head slighting to the left. “so i guess i’m hopin’ for... connection? that sounds weird. maybe not weird, i dunno. but i’ve been workin’ at pet paradise for about five years now - i’m the, uh, assistant manager now, actually! - and it’s been great, really great.” duckie cracked his knuckles one at a time with slow precision. “but my co-workers aren’t really my friends, i don’t think. no one is mean or anything, but most of ‘em are, like, in high school or college and i think they think i’m kinda…weird. so it’d be nice just to talk to some new people. or old people i just haven’t seen in ages.”

𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙 𝖌𝖔𝖊𝖘 ; 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖘

ˏ ˋ ꒰ 🗡️ ꒱   a  double-edged  sword.  sophie  thatcher.  cis  female.  she  /  her.  ⸻  𓆏   how  you  doin',  explorer?  woah  ...  no  need  to  get  all  shaky,  'kay?  just  gonna  throw  some  easy  questions  your  way!  nothing  too  serious  —  standard  procedure,  comprende?  so,  first  things  first:  mara  saxon,  twenty  five,  former camper & counselor?  awesome,  awesome  ...  you  wrote  in  your  application  that  ─  oh  my!  ─  you  see  yourself  as  maverick  and  brazen?  sheesh,  talk  about  a  killer  combo.  oh,  yeah,  and  let's  not  forget  your  abilities:  stick  and  poke  tattoos,  lock  picking,  d i y  jewellery  &  vinyl  collecting.  well,  aren't  you  just  a  jack  of  all  trades?  but  even  the  strongest  oak  in  the  forest  has  a  soft  spot,  right?  becoming  a  stranger  to  yourself  and  never  being  found  after  dying  alone  ...  woah,  hey,  this  is  a  judgment  free  zone!  scout's  honor!  welp,  looks  like  we're  ready  to  wrap  this  up.  ah,  wait!  knew  i  was  forgetting  something.  remember  to  slip  that  black  bic  lighter  into  your  bag.  oh,  how  do  i  know  about  that?  pssht,  you  told  me,  silly!  see  you  'round  camp.

𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖞 𝖎 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊

name: mara ainsley saxon . meaning: mara , bitter . ainsley , one's own meadow . saxon , short sword . age: twenty five . zodiac: aries sun, scorpio moon, tbd rising . pronouns: she / her . sexuality: bisexual . positive traits: witty & resilient .  negative traits: cynical & aloof .

𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖙 𝖌𝖔 𝖇𝖞 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

faceclaim: sophie thatcher . hair: naturally dark brown, but bleaches it to blonde. she’s got a natural wave to her hair and that’s all you’ll get. never heat styles. it’s typically left loose, until she gets annoyed with it and throws it up in some half assed messy ponytail. if you’re lucky, two messy braids. she’s got a bangs but just like her roots, she’s never on top of keeping it the right length . eye colour: blue . height: 5’6 . usual expression: resting bitch face ; a smirk rather than a genuine smile ; rolls her eyes without even trying to hide that she’s doing it .  

𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖉, 𝖎'𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖎 𝖕𝖚𝖙 𝖚𝖕 𝖆 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

HABITS: smoking , bouncing her leg when she sits , picking at nail polish / hangnails , rolling her eyes at inappropriate times . SKILLS: hiding things ( literally and emotionally ) , creative writing / poetry , can paint decently well . LIKES: stormy weather / thunder , fishnet stockings , black cats , horror movies , spicy food , sour candy , eyeliner . DISLIKES: the sound of people chewing , waking up early , sappy movies , bugs , yet also the smell of bug spray , being lied to , hugs .

𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎 𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 '𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖞 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖊

link to a bio that will be made pretty later .

𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖙 '𝖊𝖒 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖉

the interview bc i accidentally did a lot of lore dumping there , will also make pretty later .

helpful links, available on both discord and tumblr for ur viewing pleasure:

biography ( discord / tumblr )

interview ( discord / tumblr )

statistics ( discord / tumblr )

wanted connections ( discord / tumblr )

pinterest

٭   a  crooked  hairbrush.  taylor  russell.  female.  she/her.  ⸻  𓆏   how  you  doin',  explorer?  woah  ...  no  need  to  get  all  shaky,  'kay?  just  gonna  throw  some  easy  questions  your  way!  nothing  too  serious  —  standard  procedure,  comprende?  so,  first  things  first:  whitney  price,  twenty  five,  former  camper?  awesome,  awesome  ...  you  wrote  in  your  application  that  ─  oh  my!  ─  you  see  yourself  as  blunt  and  cynical?  sheesh,  talk  about  a  killer  combo.  oh,  yeah,  and  let's  not  forget  your  abilities:  painting your nails that perfect shade of baby pink, sharing misinformation, inventing the selfie, and knowing things you shouldn't .  well,  aren't  you  just  a  jack  of  all  trades?  but  even  the  strongest  oak  in  the  forest  has  a  soft  spot,  right?  large bodies of water  and  being forgotten  ...  woah,  hey,  this  is  a  judgment  free  zone!  scout's  honor!  welp,  looks  like  we're  ready  to  wrap  this  up.  ah,  wait!  knew  i  was  forgetting  something.  remember  to  slip  that  digi-cam  into  your  bag.  oh,  how  do  i  know  about  that?  pssht,  you  told  me,  silly!  see  you  'round  camp.

name :  whitney amira price. age :  twenty5. zodiac :   pisces. sexuality :  bisexual. role :  a crooked hairbrush.

reminiscent of :  jennifer check, jennifer’s body. mari ibarra,  yellowjackets. tatum riley,  scream. hanna marin,  pll . queen akasha,  queen of the damned. likes :   sci-fi & horror, cherry lip gloss, lying for fun, shimmery eyeshadow, hair ribbons, when boys cry, vanilla flavors. dislikes :   nature ( ew, bugs! ), small talk, heavy metal, hot weather, being corrected, oversleeping, milk chocolate, neon, oversharing. biggest fear :  large bodies of water .

history.

coming soon...

connections.

frenemy / unlikely friend : it's no secret that whitney does not always play nice with others. she has a hard time making friends, and even harder time keeping them ( maybe her personality is an acquired taste, or maybe she just refuses to let anybody in ), but this person made the cut. sometimes they're off, but most of the time they're on. this person is one of the few that can actually ground the high-maintenance diva— or, at the very least, call her on her bullshit without repercussion... ( open )

pen-pal : this can be romantic or platonic. during their time as campers, whitney and this person started leaving one another notes or mailing letters between seasons. they've divulged secrets and / or shared vulnerable information about themselves and their lives. perhaps they continued up until present, or stopped in early adulthood. depending on how things go, whitney either cherishes this person, or wants them ( and everything they know about her ) to burn. bonus points if the notes / letters were anonymous and they don't know who one another really is. ( open )

ex-friends : close as young campers, these two had a major falling out. watch out when you're in a room with the two of them, unless you're ready to witness world war iii in action. it's not entirely clear what the catalyst was, but word on the street is: whitney could never get over her major jealousy issues. [ CIERRA ]

unfriendly benefits : they bicker, they tease, they don't seem to see eye - to - eye. behind closed doors, though, they're closer than it appears. maybe they genuinely can't stand one another, or they're exes, or they just can't admit their true feelings. whatever way it shakes out, when these two aren't making one another miserable, they're finding any excuse to lock lips. ( open )

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦.

full name: genesis hannah howell.

nicknames: gen, genny, sissy (childhood nickname).

gender & pronouns: cis female (questioning), she/her.

sexuality: straight?

age: twenty-six.

date of birth: july 31, 1966.

zodiac sign: leo.

occupation: school nurse, summer camp counselour/first aide trainer. 

birthplace: edenton, north carolina.

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘.

faceclaim: meg donnelly.

height: 65 inches.

build: solid athletic build with strong arms and stronger legs.

hair: medium length dirty blonde hair that lightens with the warmer seasons and darkens when the sun gets shy. naturally wavy. 

eyes: watery blue.

piercings: doubles on each lobe.

tattoos: none.

scars: thin white scar running from her right nostril down to her cupid's bow.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬.

positive traits: strongwilled, observant, intelligent, quick-thinking.

negative traits: defensive, tactless, hostile, disillusioned, jaded.

mbti: istp.

moral alignment: chaotic neutral.

habits: always takes the stairs, flares her nostrils and clenches her jaw when irritated, avoids small talk, only smokes cigarettes when the sun isn't out.

AT A GLANCE.

genesis hannah howell, or gen, was born a miracle baby to her two parents in 1966. her father is a preacher and her mother was a teacher who died in 1971.

she attended camp as a camper from 1974–1982 as a camper, and 1985-1986 as a counselor/first aide trainer. this is her first year back since.

she was a golden girl her entire life – perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, a real girl-next-door type who wouldn't dare cuss but would jump into the river with you at dusk. while her smarts didn't change, everything else did after she left camp three weeks early in 1982.

she's a registered nurse now – but she's not on the clock, so she'll definitely roll her eyes if you ask her to bandage you up.

gen stopped practicing christianity in 1984.

she's an only child; her parents would've liked more kids, but it wasn't in the cards for them.

⸻⸻   𝐛𝐢𝐨  :

“  so…  they  just  left  you?  ”  aditya  thought  for  a  second,  a  quiet  scoff  coming  out  of  his  mouth  before  he  could  even  stop  himself.  “  huh,  no,  they  are  my  parents,  they  would  never  just  leave  me.  that’s  mental.  ”

aditya’s  father  left  him  in  virginia,  at  his  uncle’s  house,  after  a  series  of…  unfortunate  events;  that’s  how  he  called  it  anyway,  because  saying  “  this  child  is  taking  too  much  after  his  mother  ”  was  too  harsh.  his  father  knew  how  to  be  severe,  and  his  mother  knew  how  to  be  free.  “  is  that  why  it  didn’t  work  out  between  you  two,  mum?  ”  he  asked  once,  pausing  his  full  colourful  cereal  breakfast  to  stare  into  his  mother’s  nape.  she  didn’t  turn  out  after  saying:  “  one  of  the  reasons,  darling,  he  just  couldn’t  handle  my  rules.  ”  and  of  course  his  mother  had  rules,  who  doesn’t?  mother  never  left  her  room  after  ten  thirty  five  pm.  candles  needed  to  be  light  and  blown  out  with  a  prayer  attached  to  them.  coming  down  the  basement  after  eleven  pm  was  prohibited.  friends  could  come  around,  but  only  if  they  didn’t  get  close  to  the  attic.  sunday  was  a  special  day,  and  they  needed  to  stay  out  of  the  house  for  as  many  hours  as  possible.  he  couldn’t  remember  all  the  rules  —  no  seven  year  old  boy  would  —,  and  his  mother  got  angry  sometimes,  but  never  rude.  he  started  to  stay  with  her  on  weekends  only,  after  the  only  accident  with  the  candles  and  the  fire.  “  your  father  is  being  dramatic,  darling,  we  only  lost  our  couch.  ”  it  was  aditya’s  favourite  place  to  sleep.  but  sure,  father  was  dramatic  and  his  rules  were  way  worse.  “  real  world  adult  rules.  ”,  nine  year  old  aditya  used  to  name  them,  hate  them,  even  when  he  knew  the  feeling  was  too  strong  and  should  never  take  a  room  inside  his  heart.  mother  taught  him  so.  her  house  was  no  place  for  hate,  or  things  started  changing.  “  wait,  mirrors  breaking,  weird  noises  at  night,  an  unsettling  feeling  and  banging  inside  the  walls?  that’s  scarey  as  shit,  your  mum’s  house  might  be  haunted.  ”  aditya  learned  soon  enough  that  mom  didn’t  quite  like  that  word.  or  labels,  in  general.  limitations  are  heavier  than  chains,  go  beyond,  go  where  they  don’t  see.  he  did.

mads  did  so  well  at  being  extra  that  many  kids  around  camp  knew  his  name  —  how  else  would  you  call  someone  so  insane?  he  had  half  green  half  blue  hair  and  dressed  eccentrically  —  what  else  would  you  expect  from  a  child  of  divorce?  a  boy  left  by  his  parents  to  live  with  his  uncle.  a  satanist.  a  druggie.  a  self  proclaimed  rockstar.  killer  vocals  and  great  guitar  abilities  weren't  enough.  so  maybe  a  motorcycle  would  do.  a  crushing  talent  for  surviving  the  dangerous  challenges  he  put  himself  through  —  but  what  was  the  real  thrill  in  an  almost  guinness  book  nomination?  he  got  bored,  he  tried  music  again,  and  all  was  fine  until  uncle  passed  away  and  dad  decided  on  an  ultimatum.  college  or  nothing.  college  it  was,  and  new  rules  came  along.  meeting  hollow’s  river  again  is  a  way  to  rest,  to  shake  away  the  chains  and  get  rid  of  the  prosperous  future  for  a  bit.  how  much  time  do  we  actually  have  anyway? 

  ⸻⸻ 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞  𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬  :

he  liked  the  freedom  and  the  opportunity  to  stay  away  from  his  father's  daily  check-ins.  the  trees  gave  him  the  right  kind  of  ground  to  be  more  like  himself  …  and  all  the  comments  helped  a  lot.  of  course,  he  made  himself  to  be  and  act  way  worse  than  what  everyone  thought  of  him.  and  it  was  fun.  easy.  drama,  exaggeration,  screams  and  devilish  behaviors.  oh,  who  cared?  he  stayed  close  with  the  strays,  the  weirdos,  the  kids  who  weren’t  popular,  but  everybody  talked  about  for  the  wrong  reasons.  he  learned  how  to  play  d&d,  how  to  become  a  master,  a  narrator  —  he  got  good  at  telling  stories,  writing  them,  and  performing,  too.  camp  offered  so  much  life  to  him  that,  when  bad  things  actually  happened,  he  decided  to  close  his  eyes.  until  the  noises  were  loud  enough,  impossible  to  ignore.  the  tragedy  stays  in  his  prayers  until  this  day.