#incarceration tw

profile.

full name — eoghan llewellyn. jack armstrong.

nickname(s) — exclusively bunny ( alternatively; bunz, if only to incite anger ).

place of birth — duck, west virginia.

date of birth & age — may 13th, 1996. twenty8.

gender / pronouns — genderqueer, he/they.

orientation — bisexual, with homoerotic tendencies.

occupation — bartender at the old haunt; professional hustler; amateur drug dealer.

astrology — taurus sun, aries moon, gemini rising.

kind of being — oracle.

abilities — precognition, divination, telekinesis, spirit talkng and dream walking.

residence — a shitty, abandoned trailer, shoddy from years of neglect; the curtains have cigarette - burns and cockroaches have long - claimed the shower floor.

interests — chain - smoking outside the employee's door at the old haunt. hot showers, the kind that turn your skin red and mottled. silver rings and steel toe boots. winning a bet; winning in general. competition and worthwhile prizes. the smell of smoke, and fresh - settled ashes. nighttime. a good time. whatever he can get his hands on; mind - numbing highs and the taste of sour beer. alley cats and feral strays. stealing the last fry, the last pie slice, the last or first or maybe both kiss; always having the last laugh.

aversions — religion, but sometimes not; hard to pray to a god one no longer believes in. one that's barely there. personal questions, and getting too close. the authorities. arguments, sometimes - but never fights. tending to their own wounds; sometimes it's better to let it rot. dogs. country music, unless it fucks - then sometimes. pleather; give them the real shit. nostalgia; it's always a trap. being wrong. being right.

quirks — keeps bottlecaps in a clear vase like they're trinkets. is constantly moving around, restless. dine and dashes frequently. spins a silver band that adorns their left ring finger. eats food that's fallen on the floor. hogs the bedsheets. loves to be warm but never dresses for it. frequent ghoster. hustles others for money, especially when it comes to bar games. acts like he has the biggest mouth, when his past is a mystery.

most played — lotion by deftones.

notable features — a mess of a mullet, typically bleached. a nose once - pointed, now crooked from one - too - many punches. skin littered in tattoos, both self - done and professional.

general disposition — body at odds with itself, limbs so gangly they're only odd angles; a walking crime scene, with dead eyes to match.

character study — jesse pinkman ( breaking bad ) & mickey milkovich ( shameless ).

background.

incarceration; born in the appalachian mountains, in a tiny bumfuck town with few residents - bunny knew the stain their family held on the town before they could form a coherent sentence. it was evident in the way they looked at them, at their mother; a madwoman by all means, grieving a husband sentenced for life without parole. the llewellyns weren't welcome, not his mother nor his sister nor him.

childhood illness mention; as the years progressed, their mother worsened. his sister fell sick, like she'd fallen asleep but couldn't wake. their family was cursed - with what, he didn't know. didn't care to know - at eight years old, he knew he couldn't stay. didn't want to. so he left - took what little belongings he had, and followed the only road out. nobody searches for the child nobody wants.

the rest of his childhood is a blur of makeshift campsites and worn - down towns, odd jobs for spare change and farmer - tan sunburns. he grows like a summer weed, tall and spiraling and surprisingly strong for their scrawny form. there's a different name every town, a new identity chosen with every person he meets. he survives through labor jobs and work nobody else wants to do.

appalachia haunts him. he can hear the mountains in his mind, see his sister in his dreams. hear their mother crying. they never truly leave him - even thousands of miles away. alive, yet haunting. other voices speak to him too, spectral forms barely comprehensible to his visible eye, like looking at a physical smudge. visions come to him during his sleep. in his dreams - he can go anywhere; walk anywhere. he begins to understand why his mother went mad.

he joins a traveling carnival for a brief stint during their teenage years; their powers become useful only this once. the boy psychic, the all - seeing armstrong. the dreamwalker, the metaphysical medium. he tells people of their deceased loved ones, of their upcoming futures. it's a hit, unsurprisingly; even if he has to make things up on occasion - it's not a switch they can turn on and off, but nobody needs to know.

drugs mention; eventually, the act grows old; as jack - no, bunny - ages, the boyish charm wears off. the voices are getting louder and he wants them to stop. the carnival is an easy gateway to bigger, better things; to casual drug runs and selling to rebellious teenagers in their own podunk towns, to robberies at lone - road gas stations. going home still isn't an option; it's been so long - is it even home, still? was it ever home? bunny barely remembers his name.

gunshots, wound mention; during a stint gone wrong and a rogue crewmate, bunny made the run for it. ran and ran; pushing through branch and fog and - boom. portum, in all it's glory. the sirens and gunshots behind them fizzling into nothing, the only remnant of the woods behind them the bleeding wound in their side.

details.

incredibly evasive; doesn't answer questions of their past, but is brutally straightforward otherwise. what you know of bunny is what you get; they don't sugarcoat things, or act in kindness. their opinions are black and white, all warped perceptions and no grey area.

emotional and, at times, volatile. feels deeply, deeper than he'd like to - than he'd like to portray. fights are commonplace, especially without rhyme or reason. sometimes bunny thinks they just like to bruise.

not the most intelligent person, but has street smarts and common sense. is practical. doesn't know jack shit about pop culture, and doesn't understand references to it.

has a deep appalachian accent that hasn't gone despite having not been in the mountains since young childhood. stronger with his emotions.

doesn't like to acknowledge the fact that they're an oracle; doesn't want to dig into their family history, or dissect their mother's behaviors that make - startlingly more sense the older they age. only really has a handle on talking to those beyond the veil ( the ones without a ghostly form, the ones forgotten ) and dream - walking. everything else happens at a whim.

drugs, smoking; the first thing bunny did when they entered portum was smoke half their pack of cigarettes, snort a line, and go to the bar. someone had to patch them up in the bathroom because they didn't realize they were injured. but it's been smooth sailing since; they're in cahoots with a local witch to help them continue their... dealing.

isn't all stood - up hairs and unbridled anger. can be giddy, or amused; sometimes even excited. is softhearted when it comes to animals - particularly cats. is scared of dogs, but would never admit it.

got a shitty old motorcycle out of the junkyard and repaired it himself; drives it around town - you'll always hear him coming before you see him. is constantly stealing parts for it because it keeps breaking down on them.

is kind of living like a king if their empire was of dirt. took over a rundown, abandoned trailer as their own and lives in squalor with a sick sense of glee about it. it's practically luxury living to them. is churning ideas in their head on how to use their life in portum to their advantage.

prefers not to sleep alone and loves affection but is, well, emotionally stunted. sleeps around easily but is quick to ghost when they feel like it's becoming something serious - something real. knows how to pull away before it hurts.

can be dry and sarcastic and a little biting, except for their bouts of unpredictability. sometimes just... loses it for a bit. loses the plot. seems to get a genuine thrill out of violence, like it's a release.

****

Security personnel led his shackled frame into this visitation room. Even the uniform seemed too large for his body. He looked slimmer because of time and life. His face hallowed, appearing more exhausted than anything before he sat down. 

Still, I immediately knew that it was him. We shared the same hazel eyes. We shared the same blondish hair and each strand looked disheveled instead of looking neat or slicked back like mine. 

“Son?” His accent rasped. 

“Dad?” I echoed his questioning tone before long and hoped to match his emotions as well. Anger would’ve started up problems. 

“Hey, kid.” He wanted to smile, but the expression didn’t reach his whole face, at least not yet. 

“Hey. Um, this might be weird, but what’s your name?” I asked the question while trying not to squirm in this chair. 

“I’m Raymond Francis Hugo. Cyrus, you were actually named after your grandfather.” He went there and revealed his entire name before nodding towards me across this space. 

“Cyrus….” I whispered my own name and tried to imagine someone else. Someone decades older. 

“Yes.” My father clipped his response. 

“Tell me more. Please.” My voice suddenly became small. If I kept learning about family history, we wouldn’t need to speak about drama in public. 

“Pop served in World War II for a while and met your grandmother right before coming home. She was French, but ended up moving to America.” Dad seemed to recall more information, but knew better than to be too comfortable in here. 

“That’s cool.” I smiled genuinely for the first time all day, imagining how coincidences lined up for these facts to be my truth. “Believe it or not, I can speak French already. There’s a decent population of speakers where I live.” 

“Your grandmother would be so proud.” Dad handed over the compliment to me, but revealed his own confession. “I haven’t spoken the language in years.” 

“Everyone’s different, Dad.” I tried to encourage him, despite our circumstances. 

“I know, kid.” He whispered in return. 

Before I could continue our conversation, guards showed up to cut time off. 

“Sorry, but time’s up.” One of the guards spoke. Both Dad and I nodded with respect, understanding that provisions varied anywhere and even lockup procedures were no expectation. 

“Good to see you, Son.” Dad was lifted from the chair and guided outward, leaving us both to deal with the realities of what just happened. 

“You too, Dad.” I mumbled to myself before exiting the facility. 

______

“How was it?” Drew offered lunch in one of our favorite restaurants not long after picking me up. 

“He looked worn-out. It was like watching a ghost talk to you.” I forked through my meal in an effort to focus on something else as well. 

“Ouch. That sounds rough.” Drew across the table between sips of water. 

“Yeah, but I found out some family history.” I remembered, fighting another urge to grin while thinking back. 

“I’m all ears.” Drew smiled. 

“I was named after my grandfather and Grandma was French.” I spoke up again and Drew couldn’t help almost cheering this time around. 

“That’s amazing.” He was still supportive. 

“Thanks.” I continued. 

“Guess I can call you CJ, now?” Drew joked and I tossed my napkin. 

“Nope.” I laughed towards him. Just when I planned to take out my wallet, Drew shook his head. 

“I got it, man. Don’t worry.” Drew handed over another great smile and patted my shoulder. 

“Thanks.” I repeated myself and we left not long afterwards. 

***

“Remember when I texted about Bianca the other day? Why didn’t you come to the coffee shop?” Drew chatted with me upstairs in our usual spot at the club later that night. 

“Had to visit the grocery store.” I told half of the truth, knowing that if I actually stepped into that coffee shop, it would be over. 

“My bad. Didn’t realize you were busy.” Drew accepted my response and took another drag of his cigarette. “She asked about you, by the way.” 

“She did?” I asked this question and tried not to give away the surprise found in my voice. 

“Yeah.”  Drew cleared his throat before taking out his phone for whatever reason. I didn’t know what to think until he pulled up a selfie. 

“Oh, that’s nice.” I felt genuinely happy. 

In the picture, Drew and Bianca sat across from each other at a table in the coffee shop, but her caption almost made me blush like a kid. 

“Missing the ringleader, but we’re a circus anyway.”  

“You two were always starting trouble.” I joked with Drew. 

“I might’ve started trouble with her, but you commit crimes!” Drew almost danced in his chair after stubbing out the cigarette. 

“Hush.” I shushed him. 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how many times you two would sneak out of the club and…” Drew messed with me again and I rolled my eyes, not humored as much. 

“Cool it.” I put my foot down. 

“Sorry, just wanted to make you laugh. She actually made life easy before everything went to shit. Don’t you remember meeting her for the first time?” Drew perked up again and I settled back in to face memories. 

Marissa, as long as she’s remembered, has been known as “the crazy conspiracy theorist’s daughter.” Despite her cheerful demeanor, things weren’t full of sunshine and rainbows for the Cox family. Her family began to struggle financially after her father was fired from his job at the Greensville Gazette, and the struggle only became worse after her mother injured her back and became dependent on opiates. Desperation and poor choices lead to her mother’s arrest and eight-year prison sentence, but this wasn’t the worst part. Marissa was lied to by her father, who convinced her that her mom was abducted by aliens to complete a special mission. 

Marissa was raised to believe in aliens and cryptids, and to distrust the government. Growing up, she often spent her days trying to convince others that her and her father’s theories were true. Most brushed her off politely, because it was nearly impossible to be rude to her sweet, innocent face, but the few that managed were incredibly cruel. By the time she reached her late teens, she began to keep the majority of her theories to herself. It was easier that way. It wasn’t until her last year of high school that Marissa began to really make friends, and she was able to find people who loved and accepted her for who she was, aliens and all. Her senior year was a whirlwind for several reasons. Not only did she gain valuable friendships, but she also met a spoiled rich girl from New York City who turned out to be the love of her life. Even though they came from two completely different worlds, Savannah Martinez and Marissa Cox soon became inseparable. It was also during this year that she discovered the truth about her mom and began to notice a decline in her dad’s health. Despite all of this, she managed to graduate and begin her journey through college. 

After five years in college, going through several different majors and reevaluating her beliefs regarding politics, Marissa created a plan for herself. She graduated college in 2020, with a double major in special education (with a focus in American Sign Language) and history and a minor in political science, and married her best friend a month later. After graduating, Marissa got a job at a school for the deaf as a leave replacement; once the teacher who was on maternity leave returned, she started working in the school as a substitute teacher. However, once the school year was over, she decided she didn’t want to stay at that school and started applying elsewhere. She decided to take a leap of faith and apply outside of her homestate of North Carolina, which is how she ended up with a job offer at Barton Point High School teaching ASL as a second language. Before leaving, she tied up all of her loose ends and made sure her father-- who, after many years of refusing to seek help, got a diagnosis for his dementia-- got the proper care he needed in an assisted living home. 

basics. 

full name: knox hale drury.

nicknames: drury.

age: twenty two.

gender and pronouns: cis male and he/him

sexual & romantic orientations: bisexual, biromantic, femme leaning.

major: political science.

housing: moriarty.

backstory.

triggers: implied bullying, police and incarceration ( dw i didn’t make him jj 2.0 ).

nobody gets to pick their beginnings. it’s something that people tell knox all the time, hell, it’s plastered in every stupid coming of age movie, book, film, everything he’s ever seen. you don’t pick who your born into, you don’t pick who you get to be. and to an extent, he does think that this is true but he can’t help but wonder if maybe, if people could pick, if they’d pick differently. because he knows he certainly would pick differently.

it’s not that he even came from a bad home - hell no, he had the most loving family ever. his mother was a saint, a warm sensation bubbling up in his chest when he thinks about her warm cookies or the way she tried to still tuck him in even as a teenager. his father had his flaws, we all do, but he was a good and honest man. hardworking, he showed knox what that stupid american dream is that everyone likes to preach about. 

no, it had nothing to do with them but rather the overall opinion on him and his family. see, the drury’s weren’t well liked - they were seen as lowlives and as shady, the kind of people who you’d only go to if you wanted to get stabbed in the back. generations of drury’s fit this narrative but no, his father was determined to change that. and so was he, even if nobody around him seemed to want to give him a chance. 

knox would go throughout school with this name attached to him like a dagger to his throat - whisperings in the hallway of, “oh, my mom said the drury boy might be steal things if you let him over,” and other random, rude remarks. of course, the people that get close to him know better - they see him for who he really is.

that person is knox. he’s a golden light, often more selfless than the rich pricks who run that small town. he’d give his jacket or umbrella to people even if they didn’t ask if it just so happened to be raining outside, and despite the fact that his family didn’t have a lot, he’d still go out of his way to try to give when he could. 

he eventually graduated high school - one of the top people in his class due to his father’s encouragement, and after a lot of debate, settled on attending haddon university - miles away from that sweet, small little hometown he knew, but a fresh start where he didn’t have to work for anything. he could just go in being him, with nobody attaching a new narrative to him. it was what he wanted, what he dreamed of.

and he loved it. his first semester there was memorable as he found himself surrounded by new friends and people he even considered family. back home, however, things were slipping.

the drury family was never rich, ever by any means, but business was low. nobody wanted to go there, fearing that his father was just as shady as his grandfather. as things got worse, his father had to resort to other needs - stealing, lying about taxes, and doing everything he could to try to make it by. 

it finally caught up to him when knox came home for spring break - red and blue lights flashing outside as loud noises went on throughout the house, until finally someone swung knox’s door open and briefly blinded him with a flashlight, demanding to know where his father was. by the time knox got a grasp on the situation, his father was being rushed off in the back of a cop car. 

he plead guilty almost immediately and for the next few months, knox did school from home to stay with his mother. it was then that he switched his major from what had initially been just a vague, business degree to political science in hopes of going into law after getting that degree - a way of changing things, of helping people so they never got to that point. 

for now though, he’s gone back to haddon’s campus where he study’s away and occasionally finds himself slipping and partying, glasses always covering his eyes as he slinks back class, getting almost nO sleep every night.

study.

so i need u to know right now... knox is baby, FDSHJDFSHAJK

like he’s not by any means like he’s kinda a gross dude like, absolutely randomly burps n is like lol oops n shit, very little manners, will grab clothes off of the floor to put them on kind of man BUT LIKE as a whole ?? he means very well FDSJFAHJ he’s very gentle and will sit there and admire flowers on a bush and then get mad if u pick one bc ur hurting it like. he’s baby.

he also is very loyal to the ppl he’s friends w tbh like. damn he will never leave ur side

that also makes him kinda... super, actually, naive. you see, while knox is incredibly loyal, he often finds himself ignoring signs of toxicity for the sake of preserving a friendship - he fights for people who won’t fight for him, he lets people back in too easily, he just. he sees the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any good.

regardless, he’s not easy to just... manipulate to an extent. while he’ll fall for you being innocent, you can’t ever try to make him think he’s something he’s not - he knows his intentions and he knows they’re usually pure and he’s not gonna fold for anyone if it comes down to him or them. 

bt like again he’s baby

like i dont think he ever gets mad but damn when he does its probs scary as shit like bc he nEVER gets mad !!! hes like. a golden retriever ig

if u cannot tell im trying really hard not to make him too much like jj bc i realize that might be a big thing ppl do n i dont think jj is baby bt like. knox? knox is baby DSFHJKFDHKJ 

he’s just. idk. he’s very protective and cares about his friends a lot and will walk you home even if you went to HIS place and like is always ready to give you a jacket if it’s raining and he’s just lowkey a big, kinda dumb at times, teddy bear and i think that’s valid tyvm 

wanted connections.

friends. — please. knox will lOVE ur muses just let him be their friend tyvm plus he’s a bit of a social butterfly now and i think he’d honestly have a lot of friends.

best friend. — i’m gonna keep this to one muse bc idk i think it’d be really cute if knox got to have his own like, ride or die where they care abt him as much as he cares about them and they’re always there for each other and like !!! that’s cute !!! also found family trope bc i think that is.. again, kyoot, ty

frienemies. — so these are always like, super fun to plot out and i think there’s a lot to work w here... like give me ppl who are happy that knox is loyal and would defend them but would push knox to the side n not do the same for him... also friendships where knox fucked up ?? where knox, despite his goodness, couldn’t keep his mouth shut and revealed a secret to their friend group bc u see he can kinda be a gossip fsjfdaskj. idk there’s a lot u can do n i’d love to brainstorm!

enemies. — pls. like. we can brainstorm this too so i dont just ramble but pLEASE?? please.

flings. — honestly romantic ships are not the point of rps but romantic flings and stuff can be really fun to plot and i love getting soft about them so like ?? idk dude lets fling it up n have muses date for two weeks n then break up like thats swexi, dramatic, 10/10

exes. — i mean this is kind of like flings but i have an idea... give me an ex of knox’s who really was like. everything knox wanted. hell, the two had a really good relationship - they were in love and etc etc gushy details but they ended up breaking up bc they just. they weren’t meant to be! as sad as it is like it was as simple as that! and then the angst comes in after they break up bc god they still love each other so much but they just aren’t meant to be and they see them with other people and oh it just hurts but like, bonus points if they manage to become good friends even after this !! (sidenote, idk i wouldn’t want this to be a full ship tht gets back together bc idk i think there’s a bittersweetness in stuff like this n its just. like. its ok !!! idk !!! )

roommates. — and they were roomates- fdshjkfdsahjk

Bio:

(tw: death, incarceration)

Mollie was the first child and eldest daughter born to  Colson & Scarlett in San Diego, California. It was a picturesque childhood, the sort that she would later look back at fondly but maybe that was just because she didn’t want to remember any of the bad. Sure her mom had beyond high expectations for Mollie, but what mother didn’t? She was still the mom a lot of her friends growing up envied and when Mollie became a big sister at nine, well it was just more love to go around, right? Or maybe just more pressure put on their eldest daughter to be more than she already was. But God she would have taken it all back, all the fighting, the breakdowns and need to please her parents again if it meant that she wouldn’t lose them at 19.

June 3, 2000, just a few days before her birthday and the last day Colson and Scarlett were supposed to spend on their anniversary vacation was also their last day. They never came home. One scuba diving accident later and two girls were left as orphans.

Fate was cruel for Mollie, but her little sister who was only ten at the time was destined to end up in the system because even at nineteen Mollie wasn’t fit to take care of a child, especially with the track record of bad behavior the courts wouldn’t have overlooked so easily. So she did what anyone desperate enough to do would, she found a way out. Her attempt to somehow spite her parents in her teen years meant she had questionable friends and those questionable friends knew some questionable people. The type who could help her execute this convoluted lie to place Mollie’s little sister in the care of their grandmother…their deceased grandmother.

And twenty years ago to date, Mollie and her little sister arrived in Eastcliff. Chosen with a juvenile tactic of closing their eyes and pointing to the first place they saw on the map. The girls didn’t have much if anything at all. Now it could. have been assumed they would have but Mollie’s parents never wrote a will and the courts took everything. Everything but the few items of value Mollie stashed in her backpack to later pawn off for money. (everything but one necklace that belonged to her mother.)

So they were here, Eastcliff, California on a Sunday afternoon seated in front of an ice cream shop with no plan, no place to stay, and strawberry ice cream cones to melt away their troubles. Or lead them directly into trouble. He was young, handsome, and seemed to have all the answers and it all started in an abandoned studio right across the street. An art gallery that was popular in the 60s and 70s but met its demise in the late 80s.

Everything was planned out in his life, he just needed a push. He was gonna make it big, yup a big-time MMA fighter and he was gonna live in a big house in Northshore and never let anyone look down on him again. See, he was a product of the system, but he was also was the only one who gave her answers and that was exactly why Mollie put her trust in him and he put his trust in her. A few friends Benjamin (that’s his name) had back east were selling paintings, expensive ones, but fake ones. He got Mollie involved and the rest was history.

Years passed and that art gallery became something, a means of living for her and her sister. The guy, Benjamin, he did become something and someone who never left Mollie’s side. The two cared for each other and by the time she was twenty-eight, she became pregnant. Everything really did seem like it was looking up. Ben got that place in Northshore he always wanted and once again Mollie was at his side. They were happy, a picture-perfect family who welcomed home a baby girl named Layla eleven years ago.