fishguy

CLOSED.

Mm, since you're extending it, I might make a second character

CLOSED.

dropped out

CLOSED.

@HushedWhispers I'M DONEEE. And no i did not totally steal his power from Piper in Charmed..._{you cant prove anything}

Happy Wilson

| Name |

Emmanuel Adam Wilson.

| Nickname |

Everybody calls him Happy, and he prefers it that way.

| Date Of Birth |

April 1, 1998. April Fool's Day! _{How fitting.}

| Age |

Nineteen.

| Sexuality |

Demiromantic-Pansexual.

| Relationship Status |

Single, pringle, jingle, dingle...polylingual.

| Occupation |

College student majoring in chemistry. Also works at a restaurant called Biggy's with a perpetually angry owner.

| In Depth Appearance |

Happy has that boy next door charm that makes it easy for him to make friends. His wide, dipped nose and thin lips are nothing extraordinary – but that’s the appeal of him. He seems so ordinary in appearance, but there’s something about him that makes him stand out. Happy is, simply put, approachable. Being a skinny kid with freckles and beauty marks makes him even more likeable – it’s the universal, albeit stereotypical, sign that he’s a charming young man. His eyes are his more attractive features. Not really in size or shape, but in the dark distinctive eyelashes that curl around his eyelids and the dark brown eyes that always seem misty with amusement. Happy’s lopsided smile isn’t too bad, either.

When it comes to his personal appearance, Happy is a nonchalant dude. He likes to wear hoodies and jeans with some sweet light up sneakers. Yes, he has light up sneakers. Happy started wearing the sneakers as a joke, but he’s come to love his beautiful Lola and Rocky (he even named them). Happy has a multitude of scars on his knees from various hijinks from childhood. On his right forearm, he has three scratch marks slashing inwards from when a bunny jumped out of his arms and caught him with its back paws. Happy has a tiny burn scar on the back of his left hand, in the shape of a circle. As of now, he has no tattoos…but he plans to change that sooner or later.

| Quirks & Habits |

• Always knows which direction he is walking in.
• Ambidextrous.
• Tends to fiddle with everything around him.

| Hobbies |

• Chemistry, all things chemistry.
• Origami.
• Juggling.
• Collecting elements.

| Likes |

• Strawberry milk.
• Ice cream.
• Pranks.
• Puns.
• Parody movies.
• Satire.
• Oscar Wilde.

| Dislikes |

• Coffee.
• Spicy food.
• Sad movies.
• Smoking.
• People with no sense of humor.

| Fears |

• Abandonment.
• The roots of plants. _{They look like scary ass tentacles!}
• Octopuses and squid.

| Personality |

Happy is a happy guy, hence the nickname. A nickname earned when he was a kid, because no matter what happened, he always seemed to have a chipper mood. Happy’s the martyr type who would throw himself under a bus for someone else and take blame for something he didn’t do. The people he sacrificed for would often fret over him and worry, so Happy became Happy. He shoved everything deep down until he was emotionally constipated for life. It was an act at first, but now it’s simply who he is. He enjoys living life and being a ray of sunshine for others.

Don’t get him wrong, though. He’s not overly peppy or energetic. Instead, Happy is a cheeky guy who prefers to make others pleased with strong sarcasm and aggravating pranks. Growing up, Happy was the class clown and the friend who talked everyone straight into trouble – like that one time he convinced his friends to break into a building to go ghost hunting. He can be persuasive and likes to talk his way out of things with a certain amount of wit. Also, puns. Lots of puns. Too many puns.

Everyone has their demons, though. Happy is not alone, but he feels lonely. Though he’s sure there are many people who can understand how he feels, Happy has a hard time reaching out to them or anybody for that matter. He doesn’t want to come off as vulnerable or needy, afraid that he’d be abandoned by his friends and family.

| Abilities |

Happy has the power of leptokinesis, also known as molecular manipulation. Through manipulating the speed of molecules, Happy can light a person or thing on fire or melt them. If he moves the molecules fast enough, he can cause combustion. By decelerating molecules, Happy can make them move in slow motion or completely freeze.

| Limitations |

Happy cannot create molecules and neither he can control the molecules of someone in control of their own molecules. Happy needs to be able to concentrate and focus on a person, so it is very hard for him to hit someone when they are moving. Happy can only manipulate the molecules of molecular make-up he already knows or learns. Meaning, if someone or something were to have a different make up of molecules, Happy would have to experiment with controlling it before he would actually be able to control it.

| Place Of Origin |

Pensacola, FL.

| Background |

Happy was born in a trap house with a druggie mother and a missing father. He lived in squalor and cockroaches until he was four, when he was seized by the state and placed into foster care. Happy hasn’t seen his mother since, but he doesn’t particularly care to see her. Though, he still has issues with her and his father leaving him which culminates in his fear of abandonment. As if his parents giving him up weren’t enough, Happy bounced from foster home to foster home with many families giving him up, saying he was a “nuisance” and a hassle.

When Happy was ten years old, he entered the house of Donald Kelly. He was a nice seeming man with a respectable job and a pretty wife, but he had a temper. It wasn’t as if he was a wife beater or an abusive man, but he tended to yell at his foster children often. Happy was the oldest of them and that came with an odd sense of responsibility. Most of the times, Happy would take the blame for whenever the young ones broke something or were too loud. Other times, when he couldn’t, he would stand up for the kids. Happy and Mr. Kelly got into arguments a lot, and very loud, where the cops were even called on them. One day, Mr. Kelly seemed to snap and he grabbed Happy’s hand and dug his cigarette butt into it until it left a burn mark. Happy gleefully told the social care worker the next day and the foster children were removed.

It wasn’t until Happy was sixteen that he found a permanent home in the Wilson household. They were wealthy folk from New York. They lived in Syracuse for half a year before they were relocated due to Mr. Wilson’s job, moving to Brighton. Happy enjoyed Brighton with his new family, and they tended to dote on him as well. They gave him anything he asked for, so Happy made a point not to ask for much.

Happy lived there happily (no? too cheesy?). He even attended Brighton University to get his bachelor’s in chemistry.

Of course, then the whole superpower thing happened. After the storm, Happy can’t remember feeling any sickness or illness. But he felt restless, like a billion beads were moving under his skin. It drove him near crazy. His arms and legs were red with small, thin cuts from where Happy scratched desperately at his skin, attempting to get the feeling to stop. He even went to the doctor, but they told him he was just imagining it. Eventually, it stopped, and Happy continued on as if nothing happened.

☠️ UNDAUNTED ☠️ (A GRUNGE SUPERPOWER RP)

Yay! I'll get an OOC up sometime this weekend, probably tomorrow but we'll see.

☠️ UNDAUNTED ☠️ (A GRUNGE SUPERPOWER RP)

I've been wanting to use a character that would be great for this. As far as 'young adult' did you have any real age restrictions in mind?

@Tackytaff

College aged, so around 18-22

CLOSED.

Shweet, as I have nothing else to do in the middle of the night, I'll start working on a character now.

CLOSED.

Is this closed? Notice it said full but I might as well try lol.

☠️ UNDAUNTED ☠️ (A GRUNGE SUPERPOWER RP)

@Angel Eyes@Conch Shell VII

Great to have you guys on board!

☠️ UNDAUNTED ☠️ (A GRUNGE SUPERPOWER RP)

NO LONGER DOING - SCRAPPED

Fractured [ Action | Adventure | Airships ]

The hard-wooden wall of her alcove bruised Searc’s temple, and Searc curled further into herself to find that small shred of sleep again. Sleep alluded her, however. The sway of the airship and patter of rain frustratingly left Searc disturbed and sick to her stomach. Crust broke around the slit of her eyes, flaking down her cheeks and oil caused her eyes to water – opening her eyes were useless, Searc couldn’t see her fingers even if they were pressing against the feather strands of her eyelashes. If she concentrated hard enough, though, Searc could see an outline of a cow in the darkness and red blisters on vibrant inflamed skin.

The airship jolted again and Searc inadvertently let out a whine. Anxiety quelled in her stomach and burning acid scorched her insides. Searc hated storms, even light ones like this.

When the ship is docked is the only time its moderately safe for Searc to visit the kitchens. Most of the crew are gone at that time, running errands or bumbling on deck. Searc knew what day it was. More members were joining today, which meant more people Searc must avoid. Getting food will be harder from here on out.

Food runs were a delicate business. Searc always took only what she needed for now, and the food was always the undesirable in some way or another. Stale bread, cheese eaten with mold, curdled milk. It avoided suspicion – they won’t miss what they don’t want. But with new crew members, with more risk, Searc can’t make as many food runs as she did before.

Searc’s hands fumbled in the dark, numbly pressing against hard surfaces until a door gave way and small slivers of light burned her eyes. Time was of the essence, unfortunately, and so Searc spilled out of her nook. The floor thudded underneath her knees and palms – sharp needles ran up and down her legs and arms and her back ached from being curled in such a small place for such a long time. Searc stumbled, getting unsteadily onto her feet and making her way to the kitchens sluggishly.

The kitchens were empty – Searc thanked any deity looking out for her – and she rummaged in the bottom cabinets. She had to take more food than she would have liked – stock up in order to avoid more kitchen runs; both were risky business. She rummaged through the food, reaching in the back to find the expired meals, and felt a sack of baguettes.

“Hi, food, time to come home with me.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar, croaking into the still air and scratching unpleasantly on the back of her throat. Searc talked to herself sometimes – to inanimate objects, sometimes – it kept her from going crazy, to make herself feel less alone.

The walk back to her hideaway unsettled her stomach and frequent tripping caused splinters to slide into the callouses of her heels. A cold sweat beaded her forehead, globules of salt damping her unwashed hair, and Searc licked her dry lips. The airship bobbed. Searc could no longer hear anything except for the sounds of rain, slapping against the ceiling above her head. The acid began to crawl up her stomach and bile rumbled against her throat.

Searc scrambled towards a bucket in the hull, leaning over it and acidic bile coughed out of her and into the bucket. There was no food in her stomach, so it was only stomach muck and frothed saliva.

Searc crawled the rest of the way to her hiding spot and curled in on herself, attempting to ignore the way the sweat felt like rain on her back.