CARMICHAEL, addis braden [WIP]

[spencer]

{catching teardrops in my hands}

{ first middle last }
ONLY SILENCE AS IT'S ENDING, LIKE WE NEVER HAD A CHANCE
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MEET MISTER ( ADDIS CARMICHAEL ). BORN INTO A ( HALFBLOOD ) FAMILY ( ADDIS ) TENDS TO SUPPORT ( NEITHER ) SIDE OF THE FIGHT. ONLY ( SEVENTEEN ) YEARS OLD, ( DETACHED ) AND ( INQUISITIVE ) IT'S NO WONDER THAT RAGGED HAT PUT HIM IN ( RAVENCLAW ).

you can take everything i am
BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS
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FULL NAME: Addis Braden Carmichael
AGE AND BIRTHDATE: October 12th
BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood
CLASS: Middle Class
HOUSE: Ravenclaw
YEAR: Seventh
OCCUPATION: ---
WAND TYPE: Reed, Kelpie hair, twelve and three fourths inches, rigid

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you can break everything i am
PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL- PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL
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PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Addis stands at six feet and one inch, quite an unavoidable and noticeable presence. He has curly, dark brown hair and pale green eyes. His face is long and shows off his prominent cheek bones. Addis has an incredibly lanky look to him, being both thin and tall. His hair will nearly always be a mess, as he does not take much time out of his day to comb it or worry much about his appearance overall. His skin is also noticeably pale, and gets the trait pointed out to him a lot (for reasons he finds useless and a waste of time as it is obvious).

He has a wide variety of clothing styles, many because he literally throws on any article of clean clothing he can find. No color coordination, no worrying about what's stylish at the time, just whatever. However, that does not mean he dresses like a scrub. Addis may not necessarily care about his appearance, but his wardrobe usually has decent quality clothing (ranging from a t-shirt and jeans to blazers and dress shirts). While he has a lack of passion for clothing he does get attached to an accessory or two, from time to time. Lately it has been a blue and orange striped scarf and a long, gray pea coat.

Adi gives off a certain...vibe, if you will. At first glance it would seem that he has the look of importance or 'I'm better than everything here' type of feel. His face hardly shows emotion if on his own or when thinking. When he does show emotion it is usually more subtle (like a smirk, a quick flash of the teeth or a twinkle in his eyes).

PLAY BY: Benedict Cumberbatch

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go on and try to tear me down
INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER
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STRENGTHS:

[/i] that he cares about)
Keeping secrets
Catching onto concepts quickly
Transfiguration [/ul]
WEAKNESSES:

[/s] Expression of feelings
Lack of sympathy
Minimal amount of empathy, if even
Coffee, soda, etc (hardcore caffeine addict)
Lack of passion for most things besides knowledge (that he finds relevant, useful, or interesting)
Low tolerance for 'annoying' people
Any conflict minus verbal (unable to handle most types of conflict)[/ul]
QUIRKS OR HABITS:

BOGGART: it's form, the fear and what is done to vanish it.
PATRONUS: Rufus and black giant elephant shrew -
AMORTENTIA: Leather, rain, and parchment
LIKES:

DISLIKES

PERSONALITY:

Detached

Private

Inquisitive

Decisive

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i will be rising from the ground
THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST
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FAMILY Eddie Carmichael, __ years old, __, father
__ Carmichael, __ years old, __, mother
__ Carmichael, seventeen years old, Ravenclaw, brother
__ Carmichael, fifteen years old, Ravenclaw, brother
HISTORY two to three SOLID paragraphs.

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to watch me while i bleed
THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER
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ALIAS: Spencer
AGE: Eighteen
TIMEZONE: Central
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:

"Oh God..."

Oh God was right.

His numbness was slowly, but surely, transforming into a near blind rage. How could she just prance on in this 'world' and display herself on the hospital floor? How dare she present herself to him, even if it was unintentional on her part? How dare she exist. She was supposed to be dead and ten feet under to him. This was a new opportunity- one where he would flourish in. No one would be able to pull the strings of his life like a puppeteer. There would be no organization, no telling him who to kill, or ho to harass. He would be finally free to make his own choices. Well, to him, that all went to shit when he gazed upon the shaken Lisa, broken down on the floor in front of him.

Jackson recalled the pure hatred he had for Lisa when she made that one swift motion to his throat. That pen. A stupid stick of plastic. One puncture wound to the throat was the last straw. Not only was she a liar and stubborn, she was dangerous as well...unpredictable. Unpredictable enough to plunge the pen straight into his windpipe. It was quick and unexpected. He had let his guard down the single time. Jackson even attempted to soothe her, and he was repaid with that. The feel of the object severing his skin- going deep into his exposed throat. The pain was excruciating, possibly the worst pain he had felt, ever, that is until he was shot later on that day. Though, luckily, depending on how one looked at it, his pain was numbed by the pure rage that bubbled inside of him. After yanking out that weapon a single thought was in his mind.

Kill her.

There was no emotion that pulled him back on that thought. All past feelings for her were forgotten from that moment on. All he wanted to do was grab a hold of her hair, pull her head back, and slice it open. It was an image that ran through his head over and over while he rushed to Lisa's home. He wanted to see the red of her blood. He wanted her to feel the pain she caused him, but he also wanted her to die for it.

Funny how so much can change at a flip of a switch.

Obviously, it did not work out as he had imagined. After losing the shuffle between the two of them he had been shot in the chest by her father- an unfair advantage and winning hit on her part. Even after the day was over the rage had not subsided much. The few moments of consciousness were full of thoughts on how to carry out his revenge. Though, while his thought had not changed, it was now accompanied by others, more rational ones. Was it worth it? Would I even get out of this mess? Perhaps I should just disappear. Only when the nurse told Jackson detectives were waiting to question him did he think of this: Did I deserve this?

That was a good question, and a difficult one at that. Much too difficult to be answered quickly. In fact, months later it had still not been answered. At this very moment it was still a lingering thought. A thought that seemed to have replaced the former...until Lisa showed up.

With his former thought starting to rise in him again it caused him to hold very conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to pull her up by her hair and finally carry out his revenge. The other half wanted...what did it want, exactly? Did it want to ravage her with questions? Did it want to kneel down to her level and place a hand on her shoulder to comfort her? Or did it want to walk out of the hospital so he never had to be affiliated with her ever again?

So many questions left unanswered.

Lisa arose sputtering questions. They would have caused Jackson to smirk, or perhaps chuckle under his breath, if he wasn't in such a emotional predicament.

"You aren't dead." Jackson paused, and looked her over. Her bump clashed against her pale skin, a detail unable to be missed. "You seem to be in the right place, however." Jackson muttered breathlessly, motioning around him. "Perhaps you should get yourself checked by a doctor before anything else." A vibe of emotional distance laced its way through his voice. He couldn't trust himself around her. There was no telling how this day would end.

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{ credit }

ALL CODING CREDIT GOES TO MAC THE KNIFE ! @ CAUTION 2.0. GRAPHIC CREDIT GOES TO ________ @ ________