Apokalipse

Closed. Free Pass has been rebooted.

<Snipped quote by Apokalipse>

but...but....what if I like and then laugh? >:/

@FallenTrinity

then honey will not only hate your characters guts but your guts >:D

Closed. Free Pass has been rebooted.

out of sheer laziness, like this post if you want to talk relations with honey and i'll pm you. if you thank of laugh i won't pm you because you didnt follow the directions you anarchist! D:<

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion - Crimson Skies

@MiddleEarthRoze IM FINALLY DONE WITH HER.

Okay, so the personality is kinda awful because i can't really explain her well, but I hope I got it across. And her backstory should be correct in regards to Elder Scrolls Lore (Khenarthi's Roost and kwama are from ESO) however i could have gotten some things wrong here and there. Plus i may have made it a little too dramatic lol but whatever :D

Tsavi

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NAME:

Tsavi Greenclaw.

AGE:

Twenty-seven.

RACE:

Cathay - Khajiit.

SEX:

Female.

BIRTHSIGN:

The Shadow.

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SPECIALIZATION:

Stealth.

CLASS:

Thief.

SKILLS:

• Expert: Acrobatics.
• Journeyman: Sneak. Security.
• Apprentice: Marksman. Speechcraft. Hand to Hand.
• Novice: One-Handed. Mercantile. Light Armour. Trap-setting.
• [Craft] Novice: Alchemy. Leather/Fabric-Work.

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APPEARANCE:

Tsavi has met a plethora of beautiful, majestic Khajiit in her lifetime, her mother included. They all seemed to have glossy, silken fur and muscles toned with clout – attentive unscarred ears and soft flushed noses and a long thick tail. Unfortunately, Tsavi does not consider herself to be one of these beautiful, majestic Khajiit – and others are likely to agree with her.

Tsavi has blue-grey fur covering her body that may seem soft to the touch, but upon closer inspection is coarse and rough against the fingers with patches missing on her hips and legs. Her white maw is almost always stained with grime and rusty red from days of perilous adventuring – and more than a few times of being caught with her fingers in a pocket, earning her a quick strike across the cheek. Tsavi’s nose is a dull grey-pink with flecks of black around her nostrils and the whiskers underneath are crooked and chaotic. Her right ear is soft and silky, almost perfect, if it weren’t for the small, barely noticeable nick at the bottom and her left ear is worse off with the tip completely missing and a larger more noticeable clump is missing at the edge of her ear. While the frame of her body is relatively healthy with lean muscles and a perfect posture, there is a certain hollowness in her cheeks that gives the impression that no matter how much she eats, they will never fill out. Greenclaw’s tail almost has the same quality as her mother – velvety fur, so soft a babe could sleep on it, and with a full fresh coat – if it wasn’t for the crooked nature of it. Near the tip of her tail is a crook that ruins the graceful swish of a Khajiit.

The Khajiit is a scarred and battered one, with multiple wounds – most not from battle – splattered around her body. There’s a light scar on her left cheek that looks like an upside down crescent moon and shines silvery among blue fur. Her arms are dotted with scars like an Imperial might be dotted with freckles, and she has forgotten where she received most of them. On her back is a large stretching scar that starts at her right shoulder blade and carves in an arc to her left hip and on her stomach is three vertical angry red stripes.

When it comes to clothes, Tsavi typically does not like to wear armor – it is too heavy and it affects her ability to move, but after a tussle that was a hair-breadth away from becoming a fatal encounter, Tsavi has taken to wearing light leather armor when travelling. Underneath her armor, she typically wears a belted vest, huntsman leather pants, and stitched leather shoes. Amongst her clothes, she is usually seen wearing a red silk hood over her head – she’s almost never seen without it on, covering her ears.

PERSONALITY:

Idiosyncratic is the only word that could possibly be used to sum up Tsavi’s personality. She has a personality that is rather hard to forget. With the most inappropriate timing and a seeming lack of social awareness, people who have met Tsavi make it a point to avoid Tsavi – to be fair, though, she has more social awareness than people give her credit for. Furthermore, people are often put off her rather lewd comments and penchant for wearing disguises. On the plus side, everyone knows she’s the best damn storyteller when she wants to be.

In truth, when it comes to her personality, Tsavi is almost completely all about the fun life. She does not like heavy burdens on her shoulders or being responsible – she just wants to live life while she can and enjoy the time she has on Nirn – and a serious Tsavi means something extremely severe has happened as she is almost never serious. Tsavi is a playful khajiit who incorporates her creative and imaginative side in her playtime. One could describe Tsavi as spontaneous, especially considering she never really seems to have a plan and plays everything by ear. One of the most – or, perhaps, least – endearing qualities of Tsavi’s playful personality is her predilection for tricks and pranks. Tsavi is rather mischievous and loves a good joke, at the expense of everybody.

Of course, there are downsides to Tsavi’s personality – well, a lot of looks like a downside considering. The hyperactive and energetic khajiit is impulsive and irresponsible. Her emotional and hot-headed nature often ends up with Tsavi acting before thinking, attacking someone out in the open after an offensive slur thrown her way (she does not make a fine rug, thank you very much) or, conversely, getting involved with people she should not. Even more so, Tsavi tends to get distracted pretty easily, whether it be in a battle or during a heist in a rather dangerous wealthy merch’s house, and it has led to more than a few undesirable situations. At the end of the day, too, Tsavi will never take responsibility for her actions and would rather place the blame on someone else or find a way out of her punishment – she has a couple of Septims on her head, at the moment, after running from guards that caught her hands in more than a few pockets.

Overall, Tsavi is an optimistic person and no one can deny the certain charming quality to her sarcasm and wit – people either really enjoy Tsavi’s company or hate it more than they would hate that one race or the other. For the former, it certainly helps that Tsavi is rather friendly – but she can also be impersonal and secretive, always lending an ear but never a mouth (no matter how talkative she is, no one can really pinpoint much about her past). And for the latter, it certainly doesn’t help Tsavi’s case that she is ultimately very greedy and is more than likely to be predisposed to abandon her friends for a pot of gold – though the almost strategic mind Tsavi can sometimes have can be a little helpful here and there.

BACKSTORY:

Tsavi Greenclaw was born in Khenarthi’s Roost, the Khajiit island off the coast of Elsweyr. To say that Tsavi had an easy life in Elsweyr would be of the most ironic phrases Tsavi has ever heard in the short time she has been alive.

Tsavi was the last cub to be born to Ma’raji Greenclaw and her husband – before Tsavi, there were two born before her. However, by the age of eight, Tsavi became an only child.

The eldest cub was killed by a kwama attack on the moon sugar plantation that the Greenclaw family lived on when Tsavi was five – Tsavi can still remember the attack like it was yesterday. Her mother had kept Tsavi clutched to her chest as they cowered inside the small hut – however, the other cubs were not quick enough to get inside. Tsavi remembers hearing the grunts of her father with his fishing spear – not quite adequate to deal with infestations of kwama, and he was no warrior but a simple farmer. There was a guttural scream that ripped through the sweltering night sky and Ma’raji had tossed her daughter to the side in order to scramble outside and fetch her babes. Though Tsavi was warned to stay inside, she wandered to the door with the morbid curiosity of a cat, pushed it open with the slightest struggle, in just the nick of time to see her older brother, Theazirr, die at the hands of the kwama. One large kwama had seized his shoulder blade between its pincers and gnawingly, terribly, and excruciatingly began to pull. Sensing the weakened prey, two more kwama latched onto his leg and neck respectively. Tsavi watched as her brother’s limbs were torn from his body and his throat mangled with furred flesh scraps hanging from his neck with only the thinnest corded, muscled thread holding it on.

The kwama attack had severely crippled the family in more than one way. Tsavi’s father’s leg had been mutilated during the attack which made their moon sugar farming that much harder for the family – and the thirteen-year-old Theazirr was put to rest, effectively cutting down the potential family members to support the family. The family had to work harder to survive, for food and money, now that they were almost hilariously undermanned. Even young, six-year-old Tsavi begun to go to the beach to fetch small fish for bait and did small jobs around the plantation. No matter how much they worked, however, it was hard for the small Khajiit family to make ends meet.

Against Ma’raji’s better judgement, Tsavi’s father begun to make skooma from their moon sugar supply in order to raise the prices and to avoid losing their farm. Ma’raji was against the practice and, subsequently, spent most of her time in the house, secluded, sewing outfits for Theazirr. No matter how well made they were, Ma’raji refused to sell them, but instead packed them away in a chest that was locked, the key hidden where only Ma’raji could find it. With Ma’raji using so much leather and thread, eating up their supplies but not making any gold to further the Greenclaw bank, Tsavi’s father reluctantly taught Tsavi and her last brother, Thejidarr, how to make skooma in order to make more profit. Thejidarr and Tsavi were young, the former being only nine and the latter having been seven, so irresponsibility should have been expected by Tsavi’s father – much more should have been expected. Thejidarr and Tsavi were not addicted to skooma, but every now and then they would dip into the supplies when the fights between Ma’raji and their father were too much to bear.

Tsavi lost Thejidarr when she was eight. They had been spotting ships along the beach, pretending that they were pirates who would be going on a voyage far, far away from Khenarthi’s Roost – perhaps to Skyrim or Hammerfell, but they mostly dreamed about Cyrodiil. Thejidarr had snuck two bottles of skooma from the inventory without their father’s notice and they had drunk the narcotic, figuring nothing could go wrong. It was hot that day – extremely hot, hotter than usual – and so it was only natural that they go in the water to swim around and cool off. However, Thejidarr, his intelligence slowed by the skooma and his inhibitions rather loose, had swam too far out and was caught by the tide. Tsavi tried to swim towards him, to save him, but she was such a small child and she was too weak. Instead, she ran home to her father and told him about Thejidarr. The two of them raced to the beach, but by the time they arrived, Thejidarr was nowhere to be seen.

Three days later, Thejidarr’s body washed up on the shore.

That, my dear friends, is how an eight-year-old Khajiit cub gets addicted to skooma. She had a ready supply of it and, after their second child’s death, Tsavi’s mother and father didn’t pay much attention to life at all. Tsavi’s father only moved through the motions – he was there, but he wasn’t. He saw Tsavi, but he didn’t see Tsavi. Tsavi’s mother holed up in her room, sewing clothes, staring vacantly at her needle and thread. She didn’t even look at Tsavi.

Years blurred by like that. They existed, but they didn’t live. Most of it, Tsavi can’t remember – there was very little time in between that she was sober. None of them talked to each other, not really. Tsavi can’t even remember her mother’s voice – but, at night, when eating the fish that she caught with her own hands, Tsavi would just stare at her mother. Her mother was very beautiful, you see. She was majestic and graceful, even when dead inside. Her fur was soft and silky – Tsavi made sure, even through her drugged haze, to brush her mother’s fur once a day and wash it twice a week – and her body was scarless, though perhaps her soul wasn’t. Her father wasn’t so handsome and beautiful like her mother. He had a limp in his leg, and his fur had started to fall out from stress. His claws were chipped and cracked from constantly working and a large chunk of his ear was missing from the kwama attack all those years ago.

Tsavi was twelve – or, at least, she thinks she is, it’s kind of hard to keep track. Rather than spend a night with her soulless, silent family, Tsavi had dipped her blood in skooma and fell asleep on the beach, in the exact spot that Thejidarr’s body washed up. When she woke up in the morning, her small supply of skooma gone, Tsavi reluctantly wandered back to their hut. Her father wasn’t in the fields working, something that should have tipped Tsavi off, but it didn’t. Rather, Tsavi didn’t notice anything at that moment – she felt like she was slowly drifting in the sea; she wasn’t in her body, she was everywhere else, anywhere else, but she wasn’t there.

The only thing Tsavi thought, when she opened the door, was that her mother was beautiful and her father was ugly, even in death. Tsavi stepped over the contorted and maimed body of her father, whose skin was scraped by claws that dug so deep she could see beyond the bone and flesh and into the organs. She only blinked at the still corpse of her mother swinging side to side by the noose around her neck, dried blood caked onto her hands. Instead, Tsavi gathered her things and all the skooma she could find. She almost left right then, but before she did, she scooped the red silk hood from her mother’s chest and left the plantation.

Tsavi found the first ship heading to Cyrodiil that she could and stowed away in the leaking storage bulk, never to set foot on Khenarthi’s Roost again. It was only a day away from Cyrodiil that her family’s death caught up to her and she cried her eyes out and drank more than half her supply of skooma, enough to kill her.

When she woke up the next morning, still alive, Tsavi took that as a sign and tossed the rest of her skooma supply overboard and departed her old life for her new one.

There was no way for Tsavi to make money in this new strange land, and so she started the life of a common thief – though she eventually started risking more when her skills began to heighten. She moved from city to city, never staying long, and in the process got more than a scrape and bruise, and more than a little trouble for a coin. There were times that life became rather hard for her, and she returned to her bad habit every now and then, but she had a general rule to stay away.

During one of these times, Tsavi had stolen a horse somewhere – she couldn’t remember where. Tsavi would have thought nothing of the horse and had let the horse run free wherever it wanted, she was better off on foot for shifty reasons. However, when the horse pushed her rucksack of skooma into a lake, Tsavi decided to keep her and affectionately named her Omabi – though she was more than a little pissed about losing her rucksack and having to buy more.

Currently, Tsavi and Omabi have found their way to Kvatch. What with the arena nearby, Tsavi considered it to be a good venture for some easy gold from richer folks.

SPELLS:

None, _{though a good healing spell would really go a long way for this Khajiit.}

INVENTORY:

• Rucksack.
• 330 Septims.
• Bedroll.
• Waterskin.
• Food rations to last a week.
• Mortar & Pestle.
• 45 Lockpicks.
• Cheap wine.
• 3 Potion of Agility. 1 Potion of Charisma.
• Light leather armor.
• Belted vest. Huntsman leather pants. Stitched leather shoes. Red silk hood.
• Rusty iron shortsword.
• Fine iron bow. A quiver of steel arrows.
• The Red Book of Riddles.

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Retrocausality

Posted~ I'm a bit iffy with the heading, so I might play with it later, but whatever for now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Retrocausality

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^@Undine

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“Mr. President! Mr. President! How do you feel about the bonfire being cancelled?”

The soles of Kingsley’s boots crunched on chalky rocks and the back of the heels scuffed against the dips in cracks, causing Kingsley to trip up multiple times in her excitement to keep up with her interviewee. The brunette’s calves burned beneath her brown skinny jeans from walking backwards for so long – well, three minutes wasn’t so long, but Kingsley swore off exercise at the ripe age of ten after tripping in front of the whole class during the mile run.

“Fuck off, Quinn.” Kingsley’s interviewee muttered, but the girl kept her video camera concentrated on his face regardless.

“Were you one of the seniors setting the party up?” She continued on, eyes wide as she stared at him through her camera. “What are you going to be doing on this wonderful Friday evening without the bonfire party?”

The guy – he wore a sloppy t-shirt with a ketchup stain and had unkempt blond hair – attempted to move her camera away with his hand, but Kingsley vaulted backwards to avoid the greasy thumb from semi-permanently leaving a mark on her lens. When the tall, muscular slob halted in his steps and gave Kingsley a deadpan look – that, thankfully, she caught on tape – Kingsley stopped too and gave a defiant stare at him over the black outline of her camera.

“The bonfire’s been relocated to Beaumont Cove, alright?” He huffed, running his fingers through his corn-stalk locks, unintentionally giving his worst impression of a L’Oréal commercial. Kingsley smirked at the thought, zooming in on the questionably black crumb entwined in the strands. “Now, will you leave me alone, bitch?”

Kingsley was too slow to react to his words, and by the time she turned around to follow after, he was already halfway down the path to the dormitories. Kingsley let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing and her calves quivering from the emotional trauma exercise they just went through.

She wasn’t surprised in the least about the news – of course they would find a loophole around the rule, they always did. Kingsley can just imagine one of them, letterman on and a gross smirk on their face as they sneered, ‘Rules were meant to be broken.’ Meant to be my ass, Kingsley thinks bitterly. Kingsley Quinn hadn’t been planning to go – not at all – but the thought was more than a little tempting and it was her only chance to go to it. After this year, she’ll be a functioning member of the capitalistic scummy society that she would rather spit on, she might as well have fun while she can, right?

Kingsley slipped her iPhone from her pocket and flipped through her contacts – Davis, Penelope, Elizabeth, Lily, – ah, there she is. Kingsley tapped out a quick text – or two – and sent:

She waited a second, for a reply, but when it took longer than that, Kingsley reluctantly slid the device back into her pocket. Kingsley walked towards the entrance to the school, skipping up the steps, and entered the building, all the while glaring at the walls as if it was their fault for the obnoxious, ear-bleeding ringing in her ears. Which it was because god forbid this school have a normal bell system.

Kingsley stuffed her ears with her headphones, drowning the sound out with mellow music, ignoring the straggling students who haven’t left the building yet – despite the actual assault on their ears.

Closed. Free Pass has been rebooted.

if anyone wants to hit me up about relations with honey, feel free to pm me :)

Closed. Free Pass has been rebooted.

@lovely complex @Silent Observer @Universorum

Honey Emerson

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"It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company."

- G E O R G E W A S H I N G T O N

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║ Name ║

Hunter Jack Emerson.

👉 _{The unfortunate nickname that his father began to call him when he was a kid, mainly to piss him off. Unluckily enough, Hunter’s childhood friends found out. Hunter is known by Honey by almost everyone now, much to his chagrin. He has long since stopped fighting the nickname.}

║ Birthday & Age ║

29 February 1999. Seventeen. _{Actually five.}

║ Gender & Sexual Orientation ║

Cisgender Male. Bisexual.

║ Other Labels ║

Southerner. Liberal. Atheist. Lonewolf. _Awoo!

║ Occupation ║

Waiter at The Diner. _Boo.

║ Appearance ║

‘Honey doesn’t look like a Hunter, but Hunter sure does look like a Honey.’ The stupid sentence was something that has followed Honey around his entire life – at this point, it’s become his father’s favorite proverb. The meaning is quite simple of said proverb: Honey doesn’t look like a burly hunter with a rifle, but he does look like a sweet-faced boyish child. His dad first coined the term when Honey hit the ripe age of three. At the age of three years old, it has become crystal clear to the Emerson father that his son was impossibly and perpetually a baby face. Something that Honey has cursed the heavens for everyday of his life.

Honey’s jaw might have been sharp and masculine if it wasn’t for the everlasting baby chub sitting on his cheeks, rounding his face ever so slightly. He’s attempted on multiple times to grow slight stubble and fuzz, even went so far as trying a full thick beard, but it only served to make him look like a child trying to be a grandpa. Added to his baby face, Honey’s ridiculously young-looking appearance is only emphasized by his wide, innocuous eyes that have a natural glistening quality to it. Of course, the thing that works against him the most – what the fates have cursed him with – is his short height of five foot seven. In order to compensate for his height, Honey has gained some muscle in order to look at least a little bit intimidating. The only mature thing about Honey is the natural arrogant lilt of his smirk.

When it comes to Honey’s clothes, he doesn’t seem to try that hard in dressing. He usually wears dark colored jeans, sometimes with rips, and t-shirts – his favorite t-shirts being white – with a hoodie on top. Though his wardrobe changes, the thing that stays the same every time is that he always wears his favorite timberlands – he’s never seen without them, unless you count when he sleeps at night.

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"This is a black, black ski mask song

So put all of your anger on

In the truly gruesome do we trust

I will always land on you like a sucker

punch"

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║ Personality ║

The Positive:

• Independent.
• Altruistic.
• Spontaneous.

The Negative:

• Anti-social.
• Volatile.
• Socially awkward.

What You See:

Honey doesn’t like people. It’s not because he has a personal vendetta against them or anything – he just feels uncomfortable around other people. He’s socially inept when dealing with others and has a hard time communicating what he thinks on a subject or how he would react in a situation. Because of this, he tends to be quiet and reclusive when in conversations, preferring to nod his head and keep his mouth stuffed so no one can ask him a question. Because of his awkwardness, Honey is rather shy and will never initiate a conversation with someone else. Instead, he prefers to watch from the sidelines rather than participate – therefore, speaking in front of people, talking to other people, and being dragged into crowds are the bane of his existence. His social ineptitude doesn’t stop at friendly conversation, either. Honey has no idea how to approach someone he is likes. When it comes to flirting, Honey would rather set himself on fire because he simply does not know how. Furthermore, Honey cannot recognize when someone is flirting with him, either, and is rather oblivious to other people. He struggles with reading other people’s emotions, especially when it comes to romantic interest in him.

Honey is unsure of what came first – his social awkwardness or is preference for solitude. Did he become solitary because he was socially awkward or did he become socially awkward because he was solitary? It’s the chicken and the egg all over again. Either way, it remains that Honey is a lone wolf. He likes to spend his days alone, either reading in his room or in the woods walking and hunting. Honey goes at lengths to avoid people – this isn’t to say that he doesn’t have friends, he has plenty of friends…internet friends. Internet friends give him the social interaction he needs and the time to himself that he needs. Plus, if he does something embarrassing, all he has to do is change his username and dump them unceremoniously: problem solved. Maybe it’s because of his nonattachment to others that he isn’t the most loyal. Not that Honey goes out of his way to gossip and betray friends, but he dumps his friends too suddenly and is easily coerced into gabbing (though he doesn’t mean to and doesn’t think that what he is doing at the moment is wrong, but it has its backlashes).

Despite all of these things, Honey has a cruel image. Because of his inherited bad temper, Honey snaps easily and is prone to fights. He has a hard time reigning it in and controlling himself and has sent people to hospitals before with broken noses and has gone to the hospital as well for broken knuckles. When he is angry, Honey is unreasonable and just wants to hurt someone for whatever reason, thinking it will make him feel better (though it rarely does).

Of note, he’s also a sarcastic little shit.

What I Know:

Many would suspect, considering his shy and conservative nature, that Honey follows the rules. Well, he actually has a rebellious streak, believe it or not. Honey enjoys living spontaneously and sometimes gets the urge at night to sneak out and drink, or break into school at night out of curiosity, or spray paint a building for the sheer fun of it. In this way, he’s much of a thrill-seeker and likes to live on the edge. But Honey is not a rebel without a cause. Much of his more daunting law-breaking is mostly linked to his activist personality. Perhaps he had gotten it from his mother, but Honey is a very concerned citizen about the environment and political issues. He even likes to spend his time at rallies and can spend hours signing petitions. Honey is always advocating against deforestation, littering, pollution, animal cruelty, and even supports some social-political issues like gun laws, marriage for all, and of the like.

Due to his anger issues, people often don’t see his incredibly kind nature. Honey is selfless in that he rescues kittens from trees and kids from getting run over by cars; he has no problem giving his only dollar to a homeless man or walking a woman to her car when she feels unsafe.

Above all of his attributes, there is one thing that remains incredibly important to Honey (even more important than the ecosystem) and that is independence. Honey values his freedom above everything else and would rather die than have that taken away from him. Perhaps that’s why he avoids people, because he doesn’t like to be bound by societal standards (though he still is) or maybe because he doesn’t want to have to be polite when he doesn’t want to be. Honey is very independent and likes to live his life how he chooses – whether that be drugs and alcohol or straight-A’s and college scholarships. It’s because of this independency that Honey struggles to ask for help and would much rather fix the problem on his own, as to avoid having to settle it in a way that he does not want to.

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"I hate quotes." - Hunter J. Emerson.

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║ My Dreams ║

To get the fuck out of dodge. And maybe become a teacher. _{Or a stripper considering he already has the name for it.}

║ Fears ║

• Needles.
• Social Interaction.
• Going Blind. _{(And, subsequently, the dark)}.

║ Likes ║

• Kids.
• Herbal Tea.
• Burgers.
• Fast Food.
• Strawberry Milk.
• Sweet Tea.
• French Fries w/ sweet and sour sauce.
• Kick Boxing.
• Smell of Oranges & Pine Trees.
• Beaches.
• Alligators and Sharks.

║ Dislikes ║

• Littering.
• Cigarettes. _{(the smell gives him a headache)}.
• Coffee.
• Wet Weather.
• the Cold.
• Soda.

║ Brief History ║

Honey is a bastard. No – literally, he’s a bastard. In his father’s last year of college, he got drunk, banged a girl, and a year later, three months old Honey was lain on his doorstep. Of course, no amount of concentration and begging on Honey’s part brought his father – whose name is Johnny but is known almost entirely by Worm – into remembering that hazy night. Eventually, Honey stopped asking. After unceremoniously becoming a father, Worm moved from his apartment back in with his father down in the middle-of-nowhere Florida for help _{(not the fun, beach part of Florida, but the southern republican Florida near the border)}.

Honey grew up a southern boy in Florida, in a nice house in a neighborhood that was located in a little niche in the woods. Honey spent most of his time practicing his archery and going on hunting or fishing trips with his dad. Worm and Honey had a very close relationship, but Worm was not the most responsible father and so most of Honey’s discipline came from his grandfather growing up. Around the age of seven, Honey’s grandpa died – something that hit the Emerson family rather hard. Worm tried to raise Honey in Florida alone without the help of family for a couple of years, but when that became too hard for him, Worm moved to Colorado to be close to his mother.

You see, Worm had come from a “broken family” as most people would call it – his parents divorced when he was thirteen years old and his father stayed in his childhood home in Florida while Worm’s mother moved to Westworth, Colorado, shanghaiing Worm with her for his high school career.

At the age of nine, Honey moved to Westworth and enrolled into the school there for third grade. Unlike with his grandfather, they did not live in the same house with their grandmother – mainly because Worm and his mother had a very antagonistic relationship – but also because Honey really disliked the old woman. Worm and Honey instead lived in a rundown trailer home in a junky trailer park. Worm took up a job as a local mechanic and Honey began to work at the age of thirteen in order to make ends meet – he started with a job as a newspaper boy and doing yardwork, but eventually became a waiter at the local diner.

Honey’s grandmother paid for some of their living necessities, always made sure they had enough food, but paying for them allowed her to have a certain amount of control over their lives that neither Worm nor Honey liked very much. She often was very strict with Honey about his grades and expected him to go to a good law school to make the good money. Every Sunday, Honey and Worm had to go to church with her and eat dinner with her so she could interrogate them about every little thing – it was rather stressful. It could have been this control, or maybe it was having to work, there’s also his living arrangements and mysterious mother to be considered, but most likely it was all of this combined that caused Honey to have such a bad temper and a penchant for acting out growing up. Honey began to get into fights at school, or in the nearby cities, and has been caught drinking or sneaking out to do things he shouldn’t be doing. Some of Honey’s grades went to shit – though he’s rather proud of his outstanding A in his sciences classes – and, more often than not, he skips school all together. Dear Grandma isn’t exactly happy with Honey’s current teenage rebellion.

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║ Extra Curricular Activities & Sports ║

Archery Club and Soccer Team. _{(he's a striker)}.

║ Reputation ║

Honey may not have the best reputation since, even though he's known the kids since the third grade, Honey has never really been friendly towards them. Of course he has friends, he's a lonewolf but everyone has friends, but he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he has friends and always tells his friends the aren't his friends - _{its a bit complicated, okay?}. But the biggest problem with Honey's reputation is that he has been known to get into fights with others, sometimes even send people to the hospital, and he's considered very volatile.

While one cannot really say that he's a bad boy, he's definitely not the sort you want to get involved in.

║ Best subjects, Worst subjects ║

Science is his best subject.
History is his worst subject.

║ Extra information ║

• Counts ceiling tiles when bored.
• Keeps up with the weather obsessively.
• Cannot drink anything with ice in it.
• Strongly susceptible to brain freezes.
• Blinks repeatedly when uncomfortable.
• Fidgets a lot when talking to people he is uncomfortable with (ie strangers).
• Sleeps less than 3 hrs a day.
• Has a potty mouth.

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Closed. Free Pass has been rebooted.

@Apokalipse team, no. Club, sure why not but it's probably small. The club can go to competitions and what not but it's not a school sanctioned thing.

@lovely complex

okay but what about a soccer team? sorry for all the questions lol.

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@AbandonedIntel I'm going to be dropping this, sorry. I was really excited to show my character, but my passion for superheroes has kind of dwindled right now and I can't find the inspiration for it. Good luck on the RP and I hope you guys have a fun time!