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AcidCupcake---x Vice Captain
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 Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2010 4:37 pm
Outline You will recieve a star on your profile when its accepted. Fill out in first person. [color=yourpostingcolorhere][size=9]Hello, my name's [b](character's full name- first, middle/middles and last)[/b], but I prefer to be called [b](nickname{s})[/b].
I was born [b](age)[/b] years ago on [b](month and date)[/b]. Those parts tell me I'm a [b](gender)[/b].
I am [b](orientation)[/b] and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . . [b]
(Bio must contain likes, and dislikes. Must be detailed and at least 6 complete sentences in order to get accepted[/b]
I'm known as the [b](character position here)[/b] among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as [b](Personality here)[/b]
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
(pic here, no anime)
My puppet [b](master or mistress)[/b], [b](username)[/b] controls my every move, so I'm [b](his or her)[/b] marionnette. [/size][/color]
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Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2010 5:33 pm
Hello, my name's Wynter Marie Valentine, but I prefer to be called Winnie, Val or just Wynter.
I was born 17 years ago on February 14th. Those parts tell me I'm a girl.
I am straight and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . .
I was born into the Valentine family on Valentines day. Pretty coincedental, huh? Yeah I know. Well anyways my family is filthy stinking rich. They are respected my almost everyyone. So you'd think I would grow up being happy and smothered with gifts. . . I wasn't. . .Or rather I wasn't happy. My parents didn't have anything to do with me. They bought me everything I wanted but treated me as if I wasn't there. The only parent-like figure I had in my life was my babysitter. So when I was old enough to rebel agaisnt them, I did everything I could to change my image. I quit ballet lessons and took up volleyball and football, I dyed my hair they way wanted, I dressed how I wanted, I practically did whatever I wanted. Of course my parents were horrified. I mean how could there perfect little sweetheart change so dramatically? I thought rebelling and dressing the way wanted to would get their attention, I thought it would make them at least notice me more but it didn't. Instead they paid me even less attention. The few times we would actually act like a family was when we went places together and because of my dramatic change they wouldn't be seen with me in public. I guess they thought that ignoring me more would make me change back to normal but of course, being the daring girl I am, I got worse. I hung out with the wrong people. We did stuff like trashing houses, partying non stop, pulling fire alarms, getting in fights, stealing etc etc. After about three years of this my parents finally decided to step in and do something. I was ecstatic. I thought they finally realized that I was their daughter and I needed them in my life. . . . . and what did they do? They shipped me off to some academy far way for 'corrupted' teens like me.
I'm known as the Troublemaker among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as witty, adventurous, rebellious, playful, daring, sarcastic. Some also call me a b***h but hey I already knew that.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
My puppet mistress, PunkPrincesss666 controls my every move, so I'm her marionnette.
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AcidCupcake---x Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2010 6:48 pm
Hello, my name's Zoe Dawn Payne, but I prefer to be called Zo or Royal Pain.
I was born 18 years ago on May fifth. Those parts tell me I'm a girl.
I am straight and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . . I was born on Day of the Dead, so what, it's actually my favorite day out of all of them, so I was to two semi-rich parents, not all that fun, trust me. They'd give me stuff I didn't want like dolls, doll houses, etc. What I wanted was voodoo dolls, iron maidens, those types of things. I would pretend to like them just to make my parents happy, which made me a little happy, then I'd tell my older cousins to burn the dolls when they were away, it was fun watching the dolls burn. When I turned sixteen, I started to drink anything but beer, that stuff's gross, I'd normally go with breezers, piña coladas, martinis, etc. My parents couldn't stand me anymore since then, but they still loved me. I had completely became a drunk, I'd go out and party, get drunk and finally went home at around four in the morning. When I turned eighteen, my parents said that they had enough of my 'imperfection', but I didn't care what the said, so they sent me to some academy for 'corrupted' teenagers that we're like me. I love drinking, partying, voodoo dolls, iron maidens, etc. and cherry blossoms. I hate my parents, some downers, running out of alcohol, sharks, scorpions, leeches, drinking or I'm drunk when I'm driving(big shock I know) and country music.
I'm known as the Drunk among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as a b**** when I'm drunk, nice, sometimes hot-headed and demonic because of my love for voodoo dolls, iron maidens and all that jazz.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
My puppet mistress, Blaise1897 controls my every move, so I'm her marionnette. 
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Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2010 10:36 pm
Hello, my name's Berlyn Ahren Trϋmper, but I prefer to be called solely Berlyn, nothing else.
I was born 18 years ago on March Third. Those parts tell me I'm a guy.
I am straight, though many judge me otherwise because they take me as a girl at first glance but I'm damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . .
Ah, man, where to begin?! Ah, well, I come from a family of five: my parents and two older sisters—they’re twins. Unfortunately, my sisters discovered my androgynous appearance at an early age, I was four, and they would whisk me away into their bedroom to play ‘tea’ (yes, they stuck me in a pink, frilly, god awful dress that I dubbed the Devil’s Tutu). It still gives me nightmares to this day. However, it was them that led me onto the path I walk now.
My parents earned a mediocre income, just enough to get by and perhaps buy a few odds and ends here and there to surprise my sisters and I. But late one evening on a dreary winter’s night, Dad lost his job; the whole company he worked for went bankrupt and we lost nearly everything. I was fifteen and my sisters barged into my room, weeping, then collapsed onto my bed. Through their chokes and heart-wrenching sobs, I discerned two words: “We’re broke.”
So, I did the only thing I could: I snuck out my bedroom window and descended into the night, sleek, pretty cars worth a pretty penny were on my mind and I knew just where to look. It wasn’t very difficult to break into a car; most of the owners were naïve, being doted-upon teens that didn’t care. Fortunately, they tended to leave their car doors unlocked. But hey! It isn’t that difficult to strip a couple of wires and breathe life into those purring engines either.
A few times every handful of weeks I’d slip out my bedroom window and drive one of those sleek cars into a shop where the “bandits” would strip it of anything and everything worth the effort. I got paid a good sum of cash and my family’s saviors slowly began to take a liking to me. Over the next few years I developed a status similar to the second-in-command and my friends and I raised hell all over the city. Unfortunately, a week after I turned 17, I came to the bitter realization that not all rich kids were naïve. Their car’s alarm system went off and soon I was hauled off to jail.
My parents kept a close eye on me after that and the day I turned 18, I found myself looking at “Unique” Academy; my parents were frightened and worried I would delve too far into the pits of unlawful activities; no prison for me it seems.
Ah, man, I miss that new car smell though and the freedom to do as I please. For Christ’s sake! I can’t even take a step off campus without security watching me like a hawk! But of course, stealing expensive (and very fast) cars wasn’t the only thing I enjoyed. I am intelligent. I know my way around a good textbook and novel, as well as a classroom. I can actually say that I enjoy arithmetic, I like how the problem always has an absolute answer; there’s no “it could be this” or “could be that”. Indecisiveness and uncertainty, I can’t stand it! Ugh.
I'm known as the troublemaker among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as aloof, uncaring, indifferent, and manipulative—especially when I'm aware that a particular person has taken an interest in me; I tend to twist their feelings for my own benefit, but at the same time, keep her them at a safe distance. However, if they somehow wheedle themselves under my skin, be prepared to face my over-bearing, over-protective nature; they won't be rid of me easily.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
Berlyn Ahren
My puppet mistress, vampyreluvar1331 controls my every move, so I'm her marionette.
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Posted: Sat Jan 30, 2010 11:14 am
Hello, my name's Prudence Elisa Faber, but I prefer to be called Pru or El.
I was born seventeen years ago on January 19th.. Those parts tell me I'm a female, obviously.
I am straight and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . .
I'm seventeen now, yeah? Yeah, it sucks. Why? Because the day I turned sixteen, I found something out. I'm adopted. Actually, no not even that. I'm a foster kid. My "parents" never actually took the time to fill out the adoption papers, but apparently they fell in love with me, and no one else particularly wanted me for their "daughter" so I just lived with them. I wonder what they would have done had someone else ever wanted to adopt me. Would they have tried to do it first?
I guess it doesn't matter anymore. As soon as I found out that the people I had been calling "mother" and "father" weren't really the people that I had spent my whole life, or as much of it as I could remember, thinking they were, I... well I guess I immediately fell into this sort of...pit of depression. I stopped eating, and because of that I ended up losing a ton of weight. After a couple of months, that was seriously messing with my health. At one point, my "parents" had to rush me to the hospital because I had passed out. I hadn't eaten more than an apple or something for two days. My blood sugar was way too low.
Of course, I was reprimanded, force fed practically five times a day until I'd gained another twenty or thirty pounds. By the time my "parents" trusted that I would feed myself again I weighed 105 pounds, standing at about 5'5". I was still under weight, yeah, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been.
Well that wasn't the only thing that had happened. I had also lost interest in...just about everything, really. I didn't even bother to try in school. There was really only one class that I was actually doing well in, Chemistry, and that was solely because the subject had a strong hold on my mind. It was fascinating to me for...whatever strange reason.
Eventually, probably about four months later, I found a razor that my "father" had broken somehow. It was sitting on the counter, no doubt he was planning on throwing it away at some point or another. Well, I took the liberty of doing that myself, though I kept the actual blade. I took it back to my room with me, and I kept it in a box on my desk for a few days until finally... well I guess you could say curiosity got the better of me. The first time, it wasn't, like, anything major. Nothing deep or particularly...large. Just a small cut. Not on my wrists either. No. My "parents" would be looking out for that, of this I was certain. It was actually on my hip that first time, a small cut that barely even bled at all. There was just something about it... I don't know. The first time obviously wasn't as good as the next. Eventually, the physical pain was just enough to mask the emotional, and everyone knows that emotional is so much worse.
You know how they noticed? It took them five more months, the month before I turned seventeen. Actually, my birthday was only three weeks away, but I was dreading it. The thought of having to live another year with these people? Who claimed to be my parents for some many years? Who lied to me about who I was, where I was from? Oh, hell no. So... I tried committing suicide. I still had that old razor... And I knew that slitting my wrists...? I'd probably hit some artery. Death wouldn't be...terribly slow...or painful... I hoped, at least.
And so that's what I did. But after I'd dragged the blade over my right wrist and was about to do the same to my left, someone opened my door. It was one of my...friends from school. I suppose he was worried about me or...something. I never quite understood.
The blade was touching my skin, blood was already seeping from the wound on my other. He yelled something and grabbed the blade from me, cutting his own fingers on it as he did. He threw it on my desk and then picked me up, carrying me downstairs. I struggled the whole way but he somehow managed to use my struggling to press my right wrist against my stomach, probably hoping that the pressure would slow the bleeding. My "parents" freaked out, of course. Rushed me to the hospital even though I didn't need it. They managed to stop the bleeding before I had lost any amount of blood that would have been... dangerous, I guess. They didn't care obviously. My "dad," by the time I was allowed to go back home, had stripped my room of pretty much everything except for the bed.
"This is only temporary," he had said as I stared at him from where I sat at the edge of my bed. "Soon we won't have to worry about it anymore."
What in the hell was that supposed to mean? At the time, I hadn't the slightest idea. A couple weeks later, the day after my seventeenth birthday, I found out. Now, I'm stuck here at this school for "Unique" kids. What the hell kind of bullshit is that?
I'm known as the cutter among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as depressed, obviously, and quiet. I don't usually talk to people. I'm merely...the quiet observer, watching from the corner. When people do get me to talk, though? Well I suppose they would think I'm a pretty nice person. I don't particularly like to start trouble, though that doesn't mean that when trouble's already been started I won't get involved or I won't enjoy watching whatever happens to unfold from there.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
My puppet mistress, Valeria Vitale controls my every move, so I'm her marionnette.
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Posted: Sat Jan 30, 2010 11:49 am
Hello, my name's Azizi Muhammad Hassan, but I prefer to be called Caterpillar.
I was born seventeen years ago on February 14 . Those parts tell me I'm a Male.
I am bi-sexual and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . .
Ten year ago. It happened. Sitting at home with his family playing with a simple set of building blocks as he should his father the 'robot' that he constructed. His father gave laugh that was cut short by the door bell ringing. Who could be ringing at this hour? The father soon found out, that it was his brother. Shouting along with a wide string of cusses too place as Azizi's mother ran into the living room to cover her sons ears.
"Why are you here!?" His father would shout, followed by a softer voice of another man. One Azizi had never seen before. "Keep your temper brother." The man, Azizi soon learned to be his Uncle. This brightened Azizi's day like no other, even if it had clouded the day for his parents.
Try as hard as his father might he could not stop the growing bond between his wreck druggie of a brother from bonding with his son. The bond was a strong one, so strong many thought it was Azizi that had pulled his uncle from his addiction.
. . . .
Until that is the day Azizi found his uncles Hookah pipe. He was seven, and it was all ready lite up as if waiting for him. He took one drag. And his life spun into a downward abyss.
I'm known as the Druggie among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as I prefer to remain anonymous so I tell that my name is Caterpillar. I do not care to much for anyone's personal life so don't bother to tell me yours. However I shall admit that when I am in my high, please don't disrupt me for I tend to sore and fly.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
My puppet Mistress, iHannibal controls my every move, so I'm her marionnette.
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Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 6:16 pm
Hello, my name's Viola Gene Dextrase, but I prefer to be called Vi, Violent, Vic.
I was born seventeen years ago on November Fourth. Those parts tell me I'm a girl.
I am straight and damn proud of it!
I really suck at talking about myself and to tell you the truth, my story isn't that happy but oh well I guess I'll tell you anyway. . . .
I was born in a rougher family. My parents took steroids, mainly to amp up their game. I was soon subjected into taking some, and having that competitive gene. I took up boxing, as I would beat up the little kids and the boys at my school to settle the pain that happened at home. They beat me, wrestled me, and threw me down to the floor. Blood usually fell. I would cover up my bruises, and lash out my fury whenever I wore my boxing gloves. I had a beautiful baby brother named Tommy, but he died one night when I threw my pain down on him. I was sent to juvi for six years of my life for that, bailed out by my uncles. I moved into the house with them, and became more independent. I went to a gang and rose up, and began to learn how to really fight. I shot, I killed, I stabbed. I did it all. And my parents wept for me, my uncles begging me to stop. I was soon picked up by the police, and dragged to this dump.
I'm known as the violent among us "Unique" kids.
Most people describe me as competitive and brave. I never think before I jump, and usually land hard. I am impulsive and considered stupid. I like being in control and being respected.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. . . .
Viola
My puppet mistress, xXDiscardedXx controls my every move, so I'm her marionnette.
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