Post by yaya on Feb 6, 2008 2:23:08 GMT -5
supp. Obviously i’m kasey. 2-3 years experience.
Sample: please see adriana, kaleb or oliver's app for this. (:
{ maddison carlisle blake
Name: maddison carlisle blake, better known as “maddy.”
Age: twentyone
Gender: male
Sexual Orientation: gay
Social Standing: adult
Physical Appearance: eyes:
They say that eyes are the window to the soul. The proverb holds some truth, evident in Maddy’s eyes. Despite the breathtaking and vivid amber color, darkness seems to lurk around the iris that is unexplainably a transparent sort of obscurity. Could it be that his fucked up past is locked away behind those large, soft tawny eyes? True, they sparkle with every smile, but it’s easy to fake that. In all honesty, he’s never gotten over the stress, the angst and agony that followed his childhood. He’s kept it cached in the very backs of her mind, perhaps for a rainy day? However, whenever Maddy throws a glance, it’s a little chilling. The thick, dark makeup surrounding his ghostly eyes brings out the almost zombie-like expression in them. Needless to say, it’s a little difficult to win a staring contest with Oliver.
hair:
Maddy’s hair can be viewed in two different ways; a ratty, dark mess, or an extraordinary display of cosmetology. The color is naturally reddish brown, but it is dyed jet black, which contrasts beautifully with his pale skin. It’s cut very short and choppy about an inch or two above the shoulder, with hardly any length in the back. The layers threaded over his crown allow her to easily tease and backcomb with a lasting result. Additionally, it is cut into soft, side-swept sidebangs, that can either cover his left eye or rest just above it. His hair really is a display of cosmetic perfection. Duh.
body:
Years and years of unwelcomed stress have taken their toll on Maddy’s body many times in his life. Eating disorders have never been a problem, but often he would become so overwhelmed that eating just wasn’t an option. During his teenage years, Maddy’s weight dropped until he was lingering at a frightening ninety-two pounds. Over time, he has seemed to shake off his skeletal image and currently is at one-hundred-and-four pounds. Although he is dangerously thin, Maddy’s long, beautiful curves fool many people. But the bones in the shoulders, his arms, and his boyish face are becoming more and more distinguishable. Sometimes he’ll go days without a meal, but will never go hungry. His unusually high metabolism doesn’t really help matters, either. Luckily, he doesn’t exercise, or else he might just disappear.
style:
The world “style” holds more meaning to Maddy r than it would to most fashion designers. A day doesn’t go by where Maddy isn’t constantly obsessing over his appearance, ripping through his closet to find the most flattering outfit. It doesn’t take long, though. He has an eye for fashion, and, according to many people, very good taste. Maddy’s vogue slants to a retro sort of feel. Anything with loud, vivid colors and gaudy designs are his kind of thing. It doesn’t bother him when people gape at his wearing blue-checkered skinny jeans, because generally he can pull off any look. He likes to wear jeans a lot, usually skin-tight ones that hug the ankles. Sometimes, however, he’ll go for stonewashed ripped flares, or maybe an edgy, black straight leg. Band tee’s have never really been Maddy’s flavor, but sometimes he likes to go about town flaunting his favorite bands: Enter Shikari, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Norma Jean, Twelve Gauge Valentine, etc. He tends to keep his tops simple, yet complex all in one. Self-designed tops are a favorite of his, as are tank tops and graphic tees. In colder weather, Maddy wears Eskimo-like hoodies with an unbelievable amount of fur lining. Footwear, on the other hand, is no challenge at all. Maddy’s favorite kind of shoe is his white and blue Puma sneakers, or his trusty red high-top converses, sometimes in a bright red, pink or yellow. Otherwise, low Converses will more often than not do the trick.
piercings and tattoos:
Piercings and tattoos are a necessary accessory for Maddy. Those god-awful teenage years resulted in thirteen piercings. A pair of snakebites lay embedded in his chin in the form of sterling spheres. The u-shaped septum retainer through his nose is his favorite; it reminds him of a bull. On occasion, the retainer can be hidden by flipping it up into his nose if needed. Four piercings rest on each of his ears, with the main one in the earlobe gauged at 6ga. The rest are a multitude of barbells and studs reaching into the cartilage of his ear. As for tattoos, well, Maddy is a little tat-crazy. His first tattoo lays on his right forearm, with the words ‘shootandsmile’ in bold letters. The second is on his chest, a large, decorative N inked over his heart, and the top of the N appears to be bleeding. This tattoo is a memoir of Nathaniel, his ex-boyfriend. On the back of his neck, Maddy has a black rose leaking what appears to be ink. It represents death and destruction, typical cheerful Maddy. On Maddy’s tailbone, there is a line reading ‘catch the bullet between your lungs.’ It’s a lyric from one of his acoustic songs that he’s written over the past few years, and ultimately his favorite part.
Personality: agony:
The years have not been kind to Maddy. From his wretched childhood into his crumbling teen years, everything has fallen apart. Harbored in his bright amber eyes, Maddy stores his hidden anguish, released often late at night after some Zinfandel and a little heroin. Love has not shown any mercy at all, either. With every lover, his heart seems to weaken. He has no one to blame but himself. Therefore, his hidden torture is expressed through a figurative noose around his neck, tied with one hell of a knot. As far as Maddy is concerned, there is no way out of his misery, but there are ways to mute it. Exhibit A, heroin and alcohol. Even with this supporting him, Maddy broods quietly in thought. Conversations with him are short lived, because he can’t seem to go a minute without thinking of how badly he’s fucked up his life.
stress:[/font]
Maddy constantly feels pressure from every side. He has people wanting him to be perfect, people wanting him to be imperfect; people who want him to forget, people who want him to remember; people who love him, people who love to hate him. It’s a tangled situation and often results in extremely stressful conditions in which Maddy feels the need to drink excessively. Actually, he seems to favor heroin over alcohol, but the fact that it’s a date-rape drug still seems to make him wary of its potential. Though seemingly suicidal, Maddy is quite afraid of death. In any case, Maddy takes on more stress than he should have to. He is constantly criticizing himself, his actions and thoughts, while dealing with other problems that arise.
shamelessness:[/font]
Despite his dreary outlook on life, Maddy is quite the bold little thing. It’s amazing how much attitude can be stomached in such a tiny body. Maddy is not afraid to speak his mind, and if you talk to him, you’ll understand. More than often he’ll mouth off to people, never bothering to think before he acts. Or speaks, for that matter. Parties, preferably raves, are usually where you’ll find Maddy. His motto? “Party harder.” The phrase speaks for itself. Maddy is a brazen party boy. While some of the time he’ll be lost in his head, Maddy does love to be loud and spontaneous. Really, around him, you never really know what to expect. Don’t be surprised if he breaks out into random singing or dancing, or jumps onto your back for a piggy-back ride. It’s just his way of having fun.
humor:[/font]
Maddy may come off as a depressed sort of person, but when among people he loves, there’s nothing he loves more than to make people laugh. He also enjoys laughing, himself. Contrary to what most people probably think, Maddy laughs, smiles and grins easily. But what makes him the happiest is when he can make other people happy. He has been told that he has a very sarcastic sense of humor; it can force a smile out of nearly anyone. His bitterness is reflected in the wry and mocking attitude he approaches his friends with. It comes quickly and effortlessly to him, and he just blurts out whatever is on the top of his head. Usually it turns out a little bit funny. If not, he redeems herself through anecdotes of his screw ups and clumsiness. It’s like a reality show without the laugh track.
passion and love:[/font]
Even having been hurt by so many people, Maddy finds himself a passionate person. When the moment strikes, he can be ravenous for love. He, like any girl, wants to be wanted and cherished. Knowing there is a slim to none chance of this happening, Maddy has resorted to the life of a, um, whore. Basically, he’ll take any hot guy that she can get. Personality and depth is not important in this case. However, he has a problem of falling in love too fast. He gets easily attached, which seems to be a bad habit of his. But when he’s with ‘that person,’ then everything stops, except his heart. On the one hand, Maddy sees love a disgusting emotion in which he tries to avoid, but on the other it’s a desirable feeling that he longs to have again. With love clearly out of the question, Maddy likes to have no-strings relationships. In other words, relationships based on sex appeal. Physical attraction is crucial to him, considering that it gives him that fake, loved sort of feeling. If ever there were a more broken hearted, love fucked screw up.
History: Fifteen-year-old Leah Blake wasn’t supposed to end up pregnant. No, not like her cousin, Natalie. She wasn’t a slut; in fact, she was so innocent that it was hard for anyone to believe that Leah Blake, of all people, was pregnant. As she sat in her bathroom, a third positive pregnancy test in her hand, she wondered what her parents would think. Leah was a pretty little blonde, and every guy in school wanted in her pants. What would her step-mother say when she found out Leah had given in? Even if she pleaded forgiveness and assured Vanessa that it was only once, Leah was as good as dead. And what about telling her boyfriend, James? Well, he wasn’t her boyfriend. He was more of a one-night-stand. The fifteen-year-old rocker was hardly capable of taking care of himself. How could Leah expect him to be a father? Leah snapped the three pregnancy tests in half, and then snapped the halves in half. In anguish, she threw each piece at the wall until they shattered, until the pink plus sign was gone.
James took the news better than Leah had expected. He wasn’t mad at all. In fact, he was thrilled. He had picked Leah up by the waist and swung her around, crying, “I’m going to be a dad!” Leah forced a weak smile in his favor, but something didn’t feel right. Telling Leah’s parents was a difficult task, unlike with James. Leah’s father was the first to combust. He jumped up from his chair, his face purpling, incoherent words shooting from his mouth. Leah burst into tears, but that only made it worse. Vanessa intervened once the sobbing began, and started to scream and criticize Leah along with her husband. Leah tried dozens of times to calm them down, but to no avail. She was so frightened and hurt by their reactions that she ended up vomiting in the bathroom from crying. Get used to it, Vanessa had snarled, and disappeared into the kitchen. Leah called James once she scrambled into her room, but he couldn’t understand her. He wound up climbing through her bedroom window, finding his pregnant lover hysterical on the floor. James did his best to comfort Leah, holding her close and trying to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But he knew it wasn’t going to be.
This became a routine; every night, James would pay a visit to Leah. He was becoming more and more partial to the girl with every kiss they shared, every hour she spent sleeping on his chest. And as the months progressed, he was starting to notice a slight bulge in her usually slender stomach. The baby, obviously. While Leah slept, James would rest his hand on her abdomen, whispering to the little embryo inside her womb. Many times he would stop and question what the fuck he was doing. But then he would stop mid-analysis and resume his conversation with his potential son/daughter. Sometimes, Leah would stir awake while he was at this, but she pretended to be asleep, touched by James’s latent love for the baby. As Leah’s stomach grew between the months, so did James’s affection for her. The night he told her he loved her, she gasped in surprise, which a later explanation proved that the baby had kicked. “Let’s name it Maddison for a boy, Azalea for a girl.” Leah became excited (or rather, obsessed) with baby names. James laughed at the thought of Maddison for a boy, but Leah only gave a mock scowl. The rest of their days and nights together were simple and beautiful; Leah would fall asleep in James’s arms watching a Reese Witherspoon movie, and he would kiss and touch her stomach, knowing that the birth of his child was only a week or two away. However, the baby had a different plan. During the middle of the night, Leah awoke in a sweat, drenched in a puddle of fluid in her bed: her water had broken. With a scream, James sprung to his feet, and within minutes they were skidding into the Emergency Room at the hospital. Leah was not yet sixteen, so they received many disapproving stares and glares, but James didn’t seem to care. He didn’t see a point in it.
Leah delivered a seven pound, two ounce baby boy at 12:03 AM on December 18th, 1987. James stood beside her all the while, his heart thumping wildly as though it were on crank. But Leah seemed different after she had been cleaned up and the baby was taken for tests. She was tired from the labor, granted, but there was something else. Her pupils were dilating at a rapid rate, and she was beginning to lose color very quickly. Her body started to shake, at first a little, then violently. Blood was seeping from her nose and mouth. A speeding heartbeat brought doctors into the room, where James was shoved out of the way and they immediately rushed her into surgery. James waited anxiously in the lobby, pacing and panicking all the while. Soon, the hospital cleared out, and he was one of the very few visitors left. The surgeon that had taken Leah into the OR arrived in the waiting room, looking a bit pale. James’s heart dropped, but he stepped forward nervously to hear the verdict. “She had unbelievable amounts of cocaine in her system, and it was starting to harm the baby. The combined pressure fractured her nervous system, and she started to bleed internally.” The doctor explained Leah’s condition, and then assured James that the baby was fine. But then there it was. That one line that surgeons always say right before telling a family member that the person they love died. “We did everything we could.” And James fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
James refused to see his son for several weeks. Leah’s parents were so busy with Leah’s funeral that they didn’t even seem to care that their grandson was all alone in the hospital. And James’s parents didn’t give a shit. How was he supposed to raise a child? He was only fifteen. Fifteen! He was still a child himself. Nonetheless, James spent several hours of his day in the waiting room of the hospital, elbows propped on his knees, chin in his hands, quiet and still. The nurses started calling him the ‘gargoyle’ of the hospital. Every day, the staff would find him in the same position. The same chair. Flipping through the same magazine. He was usually in the hospital when he should have been in school, but that didn’t seem to bother the nurses. They always asked at least thirty or forty times each day if he wanted to see his son. When James shook his head feebly, they would remind him that the baby was still nameless and that they were going to have to enter one or else they would choose it themselves. This suddenly awakened something in James. He leapt to his feet, seething with anger. This was Leah’s baby, not theirs! Leah was supposed to name him. Leah was supposed to feed him. Leah was supposed to be the extremely young but beautiful mother, cradling her baby with James at her side. He had thought it through so many times, he almost got himself to believe it was true. But she was dead, and he was alone. Alone, together with a baby that just so happened to be his son.
It was the next month that James finally felt enough closure to see his baby. Actually, he called it ‘Leah’s baby’ more often than his. Leah had given birth to him, not James. He deserved none of the credit. The nurse led a nervous James to the nursery, and told him to wait outside while she fed the baby for a moment. While James was waiting, a doctor approached him with a smile and commented, “Big brother, huh?” James didn’t even bother to look at her, and only replied through gritted teeth. “Father.” The doctor frowned and shook her head, muttering ‘so young’ under her breath as she shuffled away. James watched as the nurse reappeared with a bundle of soft blue, a chubby pale arm reaching out from the inside. He took one look at his son, and it took his breath away. This was Leah’s baby; he looked just like her, except with James’s dark hair. Otherwise, he had Leah’s nose, Leah’s mouth, Leah’s thin and refined face, and, most incredible of all, her previously thought to be unmatchable amber eyes. They were so unique that even eye doctors had assured her they had never seen anything like it. Yet, here was this baby, nearly the spitting image of Leah Blake.
Maddison, as James later named the baby, was raised in a fairly tolerable environment. James dropped out of school, and with the help of his parents purchased an apartment in downtown Tribeca, New York City. He later picked up a job as a drug dealer, and that was more than enough to put baby food on the table for little Maddy. His childhood was fairly simple, as far as childhoods go. James was a lax and loving father, who loved his son more than life itself. But when Maddy would bring up the subject of his mother, James would grow silent and suddenly leave the room, locking himself in the bathroom for a long time until he came out with blood all over his sleeves. Maddy didn’t understand why his father did that, but he didn’t ask. He usually kept to himself, yet the question about his mother was pressing at his mind. James had never, ever mentioned Maddy’s mother to him at all. Maddy grew up not even knowing what a mother was, save for his cheerful grandmother, Vanessa, who always brought him chocolate and cookies and would watch Cinderella with him over and over again until their eyes bled. He had to learn from the kids at his school that mothers actually existed, and that he, in fact, was lacking one. Because James would never tell him, Maddy relied on his grandmother’s rare but wonderful visits. He waited a month to ask, and once she opened the door the eight-year-old was all over her, jumping with excitement and anxiety. “Where’s my mother?” He asked immediately before hello’s could even be exchanged. And Vanessa only burst into tears, leaving poor Maddy still confused. After Vanessa calmed down, she explained everything to Maddy, and he started crying as well. When James came home to find the two of them sobbing, he was furious. The word ‘mother’, ‘mom’ or anything relating to maternity were forbidden from then on.
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