||Main Thread||
This thread is dedicated to character profiles for Maxwell House as well as any out of character chatting to prevent pages of OOC blabberings.

..||ACCEPTED CHARACTER SHEETS
This is where all the accepted character sheets go :) So everyone else can see who is in this RP :D
As you can see, I let you stylize it... So, if you want, you can change the symbols and color it. Just don't change it too drastically.

Originally Posted by DearSweetAru

..■□■Tarin Mei■□■..

My name is Tarin and I am seventeen as of March 12th and I am female. I feel that I am unknown, since I have never fallen in love with anyone in that way, really... I've only loved my family and friends.. I reside in room number one and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, hallucinations, and diabetes. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because I have no reason to leave anymore since he took Rod away. For four years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm a kind person with a heart far too big for this world. I am the mother of the household who cooks and cleans and makes sure that everyone else is taken care of first, because they are more important than me. I've been told I'm selfless, but I don't see how. I'm terrified of males and stutter a lot around them, than again... I stutter around everyone. I know I'm skittish, but I'm not sure what to do about it.... I adore cooking, cleaning, and taking care of people. I've been told I'm real good at medical stuff, but I don't believe them....

As the GM, I am keep her history unknown.

Credit: DeviantArt by Sophique

Originally Posted by DearSweetAru

..■□■Cupid■□■..

My name is Cupid and I am sixteen as of August 6th and I am male. I feel that I am pansexual, since I prefer awesome personalities! I reside in room number five and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from chronic depression, some people joke about me having a personality disorder since sometimes I'm really happy and eccentric while other times I'm depressed beyond believe, otherwise I'm healthy. I want to get the hell outta Maxwell's mansion because I wanna go home! I miss my friends a lot and I can't stand it here. Maxwell is such an asshole. For three years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm cocky, arrogant and selfish, or so people have told me. It just depends on who you are, really. If I love you, like genuinely, I will be loyal as fuck and you'll haveta pry me off with a giant spatula! I'm flamboyant and love being around people, when I'm on my meds.. I adore acting. I am a very convincing liar when I want to be because of it. I'm... slightly? good at cooking, but I rather let Tarin do it. I'm also excellent at matching clothes..

I was doing my job, which you don't need to know, and failed at it twice. I tried my best to fix my mistakes but ended up screwing people over on the way. People got mad at me, I don't blame them, then my best friend, Angel, pointed out something. I was going batty over emotions I did not comprehend, in all my life I have never felt that way. He questioned me continuously until a smirk came across his face, "You're in love, Cupid." I stared at him baffled, I've never been in love. In fact, I always made fun of love. I couldn't POSSIBLY be in love now.

I argued with my so called crush continuously over stupid little things. We had one minor disagreement and she wouldn't let it go, neither would I. I detested losing arguments. Then... that day came. If I knew making up then would avoid what happened next... I wouldn't even have a second thought of going back in time to fix it.

I was dumb enough to walk into the street without looking, I didn't care. My body was always able to stand impact of things, I took great care of it. Kaiyuki, my crush, on the other hand... her body was weak and frail. All I remember is getting hit and the world going black for a split second as I landed on the ground. It wasn't the car that hit me, it wasn't that stupid invention that caused me to fall... it was Kaiyuki. I turned to face her limp body in the road, it couldn't be true. She had pushed me out of the way; she saved me. I ran over to her without so much as a thought, ignoring the guy in the car trying to find out if we were okay. With her final breath she told me to smile. Of all things to tell me! Kaiyuki is laying in my arms DYING and she tells me to live on and smile as if I could live life without her. My heart was aching, everything felt empty. Angel had to take her out of my arms and I hated him for it.

For awhile I lived with a friend of mine... but I couldn't handle it. I wallowed in my depression and self pity, such a stupid thing to do. That's when Maxwell snatched me up with false hope and false promises. He said shit about how he could make me feel better, make me get over her... it didn't help at all.

(This is a lazy history, do better)

Credit: DeviantArt by paperplanez

Originally Posted by DearSweetAru

..■□■Wendrix Mildred Heinz■□■..

My name is Rix and I am six as of May 19th and I am female. I feel that I am unknown, since I don' like people. I reside in room number eleven and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from Bipolar disorder, rage, and I'm goin' deaf in my right ear. I dunno if I wanna stay in Maxwell's mansion because jus' dunno. I just arrived.

I have been told that I'm very angry... I bite and scratch and claw and fight and I don't care. I don' like listenin' to adults. I get mad real easy and I don' stop gettin' made for a long, long time. I hear pepole say. I adore braiding hair and fighting.

"My mama and papa tried real hardta get me'ta wear drezzez and bowz cuz they zaid dat'z what girlz wear. I axed dem why and they'd get all mad. Lillie (her older sister) told me not'ta ax anymore or I'd get 'puniched', but I unno what dat meanz.

I got mad a lot and I'd bite mama, cuz che made me mad. Che called me a 'demon' and zaid I wuz 'pozzezzed'. Den diz ztranger came to our houze and threw water at me. I got mad and bit hiz arm and tore zome of it off. He freaked out and run back home. Mama threw me in a cage in the backyard.

I kept cryin' for papa... but papa wouldn' come. Papa never came...

Mama came and threw dat water on me and I'd bite at her fingerz. Zometimez mama wouldn' come at all... I got hungry... My tummy hurt. I chewed on my fingerz.

Then Max came. He zaid he wuz zaving me and dat mama would leave me alone. I axed for papa, but he zaid papa wuzn' with uz no morez... What'z that mean?

He took me to diz car and wouldn' let me go, I wouldn' let go either. I zaw other kidz and wiped muh face zo they wouldn' zee I wuz cryin'. I juz wanted papa. Max zet me down on a chair zo I could zleep, he zaid it wuz a long ride. Then the boy came on and zat in front of me, thiz girl that looked like him wuz set by him and che wuz layin' in his lap. Made me mizz papa... Max zat down and I got up and went over to him, layin' in hiz lap like the other girl wuz to dat boy'z. Max rubbed muh head and I fellz azleep."

Credit: DeviantArt by Pretty As A Picture

Originally Posted by DearSweetAru

..■□■Kyle Lee■□■..

ABUSE

My name is Kyle and I am eight as of March 12th and I am male. I feel that I am unknown, since I am a kid? I don't... really think about those things. I reside in room number ten and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Insomnia, and I can get suicidal... I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because he's an angel. He saved us Please don't make me go back! I... I don't wanna go back. I have just arrived.

I have been told that I'm real skittish and stutter a lot, sometimes me speech is real slow and sometimes real fast. Maxwell says I'm selfless, but I don't try to be. I just really love Kylie, is that wrong? I'm secretive and won't let Kylie know what happened to us. I love her.. I adore being with Kylie and cookies.

If you haven't figured it out already, Kylie is my twin. Our parents were real nice people, but real poor people too. My mom made our clothes and sometimes dad would too, when they weren't off doing jobs somewhere. They'd take whatever they could find and it was usually temp work, but it fed the family so they were happy. Then something happened... suddenly they couldn't find jobs and food dwindled. I tried to find a job too, but no one wanted to hire a six year old. That was when they came.

My mom and dad... they... they didn't know, didn't know anything. They didn't know what the men wanted us for; they didn't know where they were taking us. They offered my parents money, lots of money (well, to our family), and said they would take us to a nice camp and bring us back when they were back on their feet. I don't know if my parents ever got back on their feet, I just know I never saw them again.

They hugged and kissed us goodbye and swore they'd see us again real soon. They loved us, I know they did, and I can't get myself to blame them for what happened.

We reached the camp and were thrown into a room filled with children, so many that even sitting still made the room hot and humid just from our body heat. No one knew where we were, but some of the other kids had been there for years. I insisted we'd stay a month, tops, but as the months turned into a year, I started doubting we would ever get out. I kept telling Kylie "Any minute now!", only a small part of me believed it.

Oh, I forgot to tell you what kind of camp it was, it was... We worked for a labor camp with other kids, where we harvested plants that made cocaine, made it into the stuff people buy, and wrapped it up for the main guys. It's why I have breathing problems. I inhaled a lot of it when I was putting the cocaine together, it burned...

That... wasn't even the worse of it. I wish, I wish, we just had to deal with the drugs. They didn't really feed us either, but I still wish we just hadta deal with that... I... I... I remember the screams, the horrible screams. I tried to stop them from getting Kylie, but I wasn't strong enough... They threw me into a wall and sicked some other guy on me. It hurt so much, it hurt... I broke my nails when I tried to claw away, the dirt stinging the cuts beneath them. I just wanted to save Kylie, why did they have to bring her into it? They'd take off my clothes and scratch at my sides and... I... I... I can't get into it. I just, I can't. I can't okay? It just... it hurt a lot. It hurt too much. I couldn't get to Kylie... they wouldn't let me. Then they left us there. Told us to go back to the room and walked out. I stumbled over to Kylie, pulling up my pants for decency, and wrapped my arms around her. I helped her put her clothes back on, she was too shocked to understand what was going on... It wasn't the last time something like that happened.

The day Maxwell got us was the last time the men ever touched us. Kylie tried to fight back, but by this time she was giving up and shutting down. I kept trying to pull away, only to get my hair pulled and to feel knives dig into my back. The pain caused me to make the biggest mistake of my life, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "KYLIE!" which caused Kylie to lash out at the man who was attacking her. She managed to get away for a little bit and she pulled at my hands to try and drag me out from under the other man. The one who had her first, the one who was holding his face in his hand since she hit his eye, lifted her off of the ground by her head and threw her at the wall full force. My body froze and my jaw dropped, everything was shaking. "K-Kylie..." I stuttered, but there was nothing I could do. The man who had me was holding me down, he had... I... I can't... I can't get into it. It hurt a lot, okay? But Kylie tried to get back to me, only for the guy who was standing to whack her in the head with this stick of wood. She... she stopped moving. I fought passing out as much as I wanted to from all of the pain, but I kept one eye open to watch Kylie.

The men left and I stumbled to a crawling position, collapsing next to Kylie. Her head was bleeding, but she was still breathing. I couldn't get myself to move anymore, not then. I couldn't stop wheezing.

Maxwell walking in the room caused me to jump. I wrapped my arms around Kylie and glared at him. "D-don't... Don't touch her! She... She... you... You did enough!" But all Maxwell did was smile. He promised he meant us no harm. He said he'd take us somewhere safe and feed us. He helped me put on my clothes and then Kylie and carried us into this long car I've never seen before. These guys in the back started cleaning us up and taking care of our wounds. He left the car again and brought in another little girl, but kept her in the front with him. Kylie was sleeping, but I couldn't get myself to sleep.

I wouldn't let Kylie out of my sight, even when we were walking onto the plane. The pilot was shocked, I don't know why. The guy who was carrying her set her head in my lap and I ran my fingers through her hair with a smile. I was so happy to get out of there, to be free. I kissed her forehead and a few minutes later her eyes opened. It was hard to not cry when she asked me who I was. From then on I refused to tell Kylie anything that happened to protect her, because I knew it was better she didn't remember. Hell... I wish I didn't, didn't remember...

Credit: DeviantArt by azelman and Kyomana

Originally Posted by Keyasha

..•■•Taylor•■•..

My name is Taylor and I am fifteen as of August 30 and I am female. I feel that I am unsure about my sexuality, because I can't see myself with a boy because of what he did and I can't see myself with a girl. I reside in room number six and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from avoidant, paranoid, bi-polar disorder, and I have HIV. I want to leave Maxwell's mansion because I want to leave because I've come to realize the actual disturbing nature of the hole situation. At first I saw the house as an escape from him but now that I see Dr. Maxwell for who he is I feel the same way I did with him. So I see it as moving from one hell to the next. For four months I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm distant from the people in the house. This is because I'm afraid of being let down. All my life I have been ridiculed by children because of my bruises and scars and also for coming from a very poor family. So I stay quiet. I can't help but voice out sometimes, but I punish myself for it later. I always think that people are talking about me behind my back or afraid of what people will think of me in the house. I try not to get close to the other children there because I am afraid of being hurt like my he hurt me or them dying, like my Mother. I adore singing and I have a knack for it, but I haven't sung much since my mother died.

My Mother had always wanted a fairytale romance with a prince and a lot of children, but she gave up on that dream. My Mother made the mistake of getting pregnant at a young age by a man she barely new. He didn't want to stay but he had little choice; Mother threatened to go to court and charge child support and drain him for the little he had if he abandoned her. She’d later regret making him stay. They got married after knowing each other for only two months. My Mother did not have time to get to know him well enough to know he was the wrong man for her. I grew up being forced to watch him abuse my Mother. When I reached the age of six, he started to also lash out on me too, in many ways. When I was ten my mom and I were diagnosed with HIV, my Mothers case far worse, from him who would constantly rape Mom and myself. Mom saved some money hidden away from him and used that to secretly treat my HIV but not her own. My Mother’s HIV kept growing worse and worse until finally it became AIDS. She died shortly after her diagnoses. I was twelve.

I lived with him for another few years. I never made friends because all the kids were too young to realize why I had bruises all the time so they just made fun of me. I get paranoid about what I say or do and how people react to it. I want to be accepted by others mostly. Teachers seemed to not care that I came to school with bruises and scars. I have little faith in adults because of that.

A few months back I was standing in front of my house dreading to go inside. It was horrible waiting to see if he was going to be in a good mood or a bad mood. Dr. Maxwell came across me and offered his ear to listen to my story. He told me I could go with him and stay with all of his “children” and never have to see his face again. Without even thinking of what kind of man Dr. Maxwell could be, I left the place I never considered home. I would come to regret it.

Dr. Maxwell went through with his promise: I was away from that place and from him but I wasn't getting the loving, normal home I wished for. Dr. Maxwell dropped me off with the other children and just left to go get supplies and order medicine for me. He came back without even looking my way, dropped the stuff off, and left. That's how it's been for four months now. Dr. Maxwell pays no attention to me whatsoever. I would think he had forgotten I existed all together if he didn't bring me my "cocktail" with the rest of the children's medicine. I see how abusive Dr. Maxwell is with the other children and I feel somewhat lucky he ignores me but, I still feel bad for the others. I have a deep fear for the man I sought comfort in because he reminds me of him.

Credit: DeviantArt - `Anahita

Originally Posted by Keyasha

..○♦○Erin "Jinx" Anne Owen○♦○..

My name is Erin but no one has called me that for a long time; they call me Jinx and I am sixteen as of April 2 and I am obviously female I feel that I am bisexual, since I prefer both men and women. I don't plan on becoming close to anyone, though. They all die anyway. I reside in room number twelve and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from bulimia, narcissism, and social phobia to an extent. I want to stay. at Maxwell's mansion because aside from going outside to tan, I get whatever I want. For one year I have lived here.

I have been told that I always have a constant smile on which is defiantly a show. I’m afraid to get close to people because everyone I get close to dies. I do talk to others in the house mostly because of my outgoing nature. I’ll make comments or small talk but I never go deep into conversation with anyone. I keep my depressed moods for when I’m locked up in my room. Even though I don’t get close to anyone I still wants to make a good impression right? Who would pay any attention to a vessel of constant guilt and depression? I find myself faking falls or being over dramatic without realizing it. I know it’s because I want attention from the others in the house. My body language towards the others in the house, even the girls, is always flirtatious. I adore warm, long baths, walks on the beach, getting my way, flirting, fancy and expensive things, attention, and beauty products.


I must have done something wrong in life for God to take away all the people I ever loved. What I did must have been so bad that he wanted me to suffer. It was my punishment.

My Mother was a little over-concerned with her looks and her social status than most but she was happy. She always treated my Sister and I with love. She made sure our hair always looked nice, we had nice clothes, nice face creams and bath things. She taught us manners and other such things. I wondered how someone so beautiful and charismatic as my mother could fall for someone like my Father. He was handsome but he was too serious and quiet which seemed to take away from his looks. He was always at work on some case and I hardly ever saw my Father. They never seemed to touch or seem close at all. If they talked it was always polite like they weren’t even married.

My younger Sister was my best friend. I would always come to her with talk of things too embarrassing to speak of with my Mother. We used to talk for hours about little things that would bore my Mother. Ever since she was born her body was weak. She could walk around much and she couldn’t do much without losing her breath. She stayed in bed most of the day and had to do school from home. The only time she got out was if I wheeled her around in her wheel chair but even that made her tired.

God took her first. I was sad but I tried to cope with her death by telling myself that she no longer had to suffer. Life wasn’t as bright without her. I used to go to her grave and just tell her everything that went on at school or at home like I would if she were alive. I stopped going after awhile. It made me more depressed that she wasn’t answering back. I think that’s when I finally realized she was gone. Father seemed unaffected and Mama was in a fit of mourning for a few months but suddenly threw herself out of her depression and acted as if nothing happened. I think that made it worse. Father started coming home less and less and I started to believe maybe my Sister’s death did affect him somewhat. Mama acted like this didn’t affect her but sometimes I heard her sobbing behind the door of a closed room.

Before my Sister died, I used to come to her with stories of a boy I had met at school. His name was Steven. We had went to school with each other almost all our lives but as we started getting older we had more classes together and became friends. I sometimes wondered if he wanted to be more. He’d drop hints but I think we were both too shy at first to express our feelings. As we became closer, though, we finally confessed how we felt and when it was out in the open it was such a relief; to know the one you’ve fallen in love with loves you in return is one of the greatest gifts God can give. Of course God wouldn’t let me enjoy anything in life. Steven was next. He was walking over to come visit me at home when a car hit him. I think even his family blamed me for his death. I attended the funeral but I haven’t seen his family since. Steven’s death hit me harder than my Sister’s. I loved him just as much as her and I felt like I was to blame for his life ending when he didn’t even get to live it.

A few months after the death of Steven, I was woken up one night by yelling. I heard it from my parent’s bedroom and quietly snuck out into the hallway to listen. Mama had heard from a friend that she had saw Father leaving a woman’s house and getting into a cab. He accused her of marring him for only money and to higher her social status. She yelled back that he was never home to be a good loving husband or a good father and it didn’t seem like he really loved her. I quickly retreated to my room when I heard footsteps coming toward me. The next day at dinner, Father sat at the table with us like nothing happened and I think Mama wanted to forget all of it. She drank wine with Father like she always did but shortly before dinner was over Father fell out of his chair. He was pronounced dead later that night. I suspect Mama of poisoning him for cheating.

Father was the first of the many dead husands my Mother has aquired over the years. Most were older with lots of money. Every single one of them mysteriously came up dead somehow. We moved a lot. A husband would die, Mama would inherit the money, and we would leave town. Once or twice we even changed our names. Even though I wasn’t close to Father and he was never around, I did feel sorry for him. It seemed like Mama really was greedy. Maybe that’s why Father was with another woman. They didn’t seem to love each other, anyway.

Even after about four dead husbands and millions of dollars it still wasn’t enough for Mother. Little did she know her fifth husband was an under cover cop. I could tell this one was different. He was really young and got all his money in one of those phony “work at home” kits you see on bad commercials. It seemed like bull to me. In the beginning I just let it go I mean, he wasn’t going to last long but they seemed to “really hit if off.” When they had stayed together for a year I was defiantly surprised. They seemed actually happy. They went places together, they were romantic and I even saw my Mother smile a true smile around him. I thought maybe she had changed and she might stay with him. Well, I was wrong. I guess he was the one faking it this time. The whole year they were together he was observing her and learning information about her so he could convict her. When he had enough to convict her, he did. My Mother went to prison, was found guilty, and got the death penalty. All while I was sent to some foster home. That wasn’t even the saddest part. When I was allowed to go visit her she didn’t concern herself with the fact that I had to deal with the sudden change of scenery that I had to go through. I had to go from “Here, have anything and everything you want.” to “Here, have some hand me downs.” The only thing she was concerned about was how he had betrayed her. All I could think was how hypocritical she was. Hadn’t she betrayed so many men before him? I kept that to myself though. I put on a happy smile as always and continued to visit until she was put to death. I was pissed off at her but I couldn’t help but grieve. She was, afterall, my Mother and we had good times before my whole life got turned upside down.

I lived at the foster home for a little under a year when Maxwell approached me one day. Apparently he heard about my Mother’s case on TV and about me. Maxwell offered a place for me to stay that would be much better than the foster home. He practically bribed me but hey, it works for me.

Just a side note: I got the nickname Jinx from some kids in middle school. They told me I was jinxed because everyone I got close to died. Also, I use my Christian name, not the ones I we changed or I got from step-dads.

Credit: DeviantArt

Originally Posted by Keyasha

..•✿•Kylie Lee•✿•..

My name is Kylie Lee and I am eight (that's what Kyle told me anyway) as of March 12 and I am female. I feel that I am wait, what do you mean? I reside in room number ten and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from I can’t remember anything about my past. Does seeing your bones count as a disease? Oh, do the purple, yellow, and blue marks count too? Oh, and my head hurts really badly. Kyle and Maxwell won’t tell me why. It’s bandaged because it was bleeding. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because he helped us so he can't be bad, right? I have just arrived.

I have been told that I'm ...well, I don't know. I have no idea what I was like before but now I just seem to be angry and sad all the time. I get so frustrated that I can’t remember who I am. I don’t talk a lot now. I think it is mostly because I’m trying to search my brain for some kind of memory of my past. Kyle said I was happy and smiled and was really talkative. I adore I have no idea about this either. I wonder what I like? I'll ask Kyle.

I can’t remember anything. Maxwell calls it amnesia. All I know is Kyle is my twin. I don’t remember him. I don’t remember our Mommy or Daddy either but Kyle did tell me that they loved us very much. I wish I could remember them. I remember their voices sometimes but I can never put a face to them. It seems like every time I almost remember something it just slips away. I get so angry. Kyle doesn’t really want to tell me anything either so he’s no help. I saw a lot of blue, purple, and yellow marks on us but he won’t tell me what those are from either.

I know I’m talking like I haven’t remembered for weeks but it’s really only been a day since I apparently lost my memory. My first memory is of me lying down in a big back seat of a long black car. My head is throbbing and I have my head in a boy’s lap and he looks scared but somewhat calm. He’s very skinny and has purple, blue and yellow marks. This turns out to be my twin, Kyle. I can’t remember him but this is what he and the man who is sitting in the seat across from us says. He turns out to be Dr. Maxwell. He saved us from something but neither he nor Kyle will tell me what he saved us from. He promises to feed us, give us a place to live, and later tell me he’ll help me remember everything. Kyle and I agree to stay in his big house. He’s taking us there now.

Credit: DeviantArt

Originally Posted by r_e_n_o_Love

..■□■ Neo X. Fatale -- 'X'■□■..

My name is X. and I am fourteen as of September 5 and I am female. I feel that I am straight, since I prefer males. I reside in room number nine and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from amnesia, insomnia and some type of social disorder. I want to merely be where I belong, and if it is here, I shall remain in Maxwell's mansion because I will have no other purpose. For about half a year I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm very withdrawn. I can become attached to people easily, but prefer to keep them at a distance. I like to be the guardian or keeper rather than a best friend. I'm loyal, obedient and try to keep myself from forming an opinion of things. I prefer to keep my mind and my emotions on a steady course.. I adore observing the little things people tend to not notice. When I was with Nate, I enjoyed just being around him..

I feel as though my story begins with a man named Orion Nathaniel Bell, or simply put, Nate. He was my guardian, the one who found me in my dark abyss, even though he was sinking into his own at the time. His being there gave me a purpose in life, and a means of survival. He helped me to better understand this world, and he made me feel less incomplete.

I don't know where my origins lye, everything before Nate was running, and searching. My life is haunted with unfamiliar visions, and voices. I see them when I sleep, but I don't know if they are connected. Such things aren't important to me though, I just want them to go away, and I know that it is silly to be afraid of such illusions, but I am.

Nate adopted me when he was of age, and capable. It was unnecessary to be on the streets at this point. Four years later I began seeing an older man everywhere I went. I didn't tell Nate, there was no point, I wasn't afraid of him, he seemed no more than an observer like me.

One day he addressed me. Out of curiosity I asked if he knew me. He told me that he knew me better than I knew myself. I told him that I was sorry that I didn't recognize him because everything before I was six is gone. He didn't respond to what I said, but instead began to tell me about my relationship with Nate. He said that I do a lot to please him, and that I am neglected, but even so he is unable to tell if I am truly happy or if I just make myself believe I am. I told him that happiness is a human emotion that I can not analyze correctly, but I remain with Nate because he keeps my nerves at ease. I don't know if the two are linked, I still don't. He seemed to notice my feeling of needing to leave because he volunteered to take me home.

My body had no reaction to danger. This man had no intentions of harming me, and even if he did, I don't believe he could. I allowed myself to go with him, because of curiosity, and because I knew that not accepting would be a pointless gesture. I falsely associated his idea of home with my idea of home however because after sometime my world went dark. I awoke with Maxwell comforting me out of a nightmare, and telling me that I was safe. He welcomed me to my new idea of home, and introduced people whom he associated with the word family, I was their new sister. So my purpose has been being a sister, as a small unit of this group called family.

Credit: AidenRiddle of deviant art.

Originally Posted by Rising_Violet

..■□■Clariece Monica Daily■□■..

My name is Clariece "Claira-bean" Monica Daily and I am Thirteen as of June 16th and I am a girl, duh.. I feel that I am straight, definitely straight.. I think., since I prefer boys.. Well some girls are really pretty. I don't know I don't get involved in that stuff. I reside in room number twelve and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from Hallucinations, violent out-bursts, Night-terrors, kleptomania and Mild OCD[/color]. I'm not sure if I want to stay at Maxwell's mansion because There are fun things to do here..and I'm not the only messed up kid here... But the fairies don't visit me anymore and I miss playing video games..and I miss Daddy. For halfa year I have lived here/I have just arrived. I have been told that I'm fun, silly, and hyperactive... But it really hurts when someone tells me that I'm crazy or they accuse me of taking something of theirs.. A lot of my old friends thought that my stories of fairies were fun, because how else did their things end up under my bed? Some people have told me that I'm spiritual..or a devil. I know I can be stubborn, and that I see things that others don't see. They can't tell me that it's not real just because they don't see it! Unless I'm in a really bad mood I love being around people, but I know when I'm in a bad mood so I'll lock myself in my room. That's when people start to tell me that I'm anti-social or depressed, but I don't understand how when I'm so happy and bubbly all of the time. I adore videogames, being around happy people, having fun.. I also like to keep to myself and draw with pastel, especially horses and other animals I like. Fighting can be a lot of fun too, but everyone stopped fighting me since I put that O'Donnell kid in the hospital... .

I've always been very imaginative, but when I was nine I realized that I could see things that no one else did, like ghosts and monsters and fairies. When I turned nine a lot of things happened, that's when I realized my ability to see things, that's when a ton of fairies started to make my life a little harder by being mischievous, and that's when Daddy started to drink a lot. Or maybe he's been drinking for a very long time... Mommy left right before my ninth birthday, and so we didn't go to the horse ranch in the country for my birthday like we planned.. instead Daddy forgot it was my birthday and when I asked him... He got mad.

I always thought I was a good fighter, Daddy had always taught me how to fight, so did my uncles and cousins.. but when I asked him if we could go to the Horse Ranch because it was my birthday.. that was the first time he hurt me... He threw his beer bottle at my head, and.. I woke up in the hospital. No one was there but the nurse, I was so scared and confused. "Where's my dad?!" Oh that nurse made me so angry when she looked confused and frightened at the same time. "You've been badly hurt." She said, "You need to rest." She said. That made me even more angry, she sounded like she was just off of the t.v. I know it wasn't proper, but I threw a fit.. Perhaps it was more of a tantrum.

At the end of it, I had knocked the nurse to the floor and her head was bleeding, the i.v. was out of my arm.. and I could feel all of the bruises and cuts I had. My head started swimming when more people came into my room. So I sat down and they were really confused. "I just want my Daddy, why am I here?" A doctor pushed me down into the bed, and I was okay with that cause I felt like I was going to throw up. But I didn't like that they strapped me to the bed. "You have a mild concussion, Miss Daily. Your Uncle brought you here a week ago, you have a concussion and you've been in a coma since. ...Your father is not allowed to be here right now." He said.

"Why not?" But I didn't hear the doctor because I fell asleep I guess. Later my Uncle told me what happened, he said that my dad fractured my skull with the beer bottle he threw at me, and then he beat me. I didn't want to believe it. After all I was Daddy's Clara-bean. Well I had to believe it, I ended up living with one of my uncles instead of my Daddy, but Daddy visited all the time.. And we fought.. Sometimes we fought for fun, sometimes we fought because he was mad and had too much to drink.

Whenever we fought to the point where it hurt and we bled or got bruised, my uncles would have to fight Daddy to get him out of the house... Sometimes he broke the windows saying that, if Julia[/i] (her mother) [i]had left him, he wasn't going to let anyone take his Clara-bean away. After the police were finally called on us and a case-worker came to talk to me I decided that I was tired of sitting still. Things were only getting worse anyway, I woke up in the middle of the night screaming, sometimes I woke myself up but normally I woke up my family.. The fairies were everywhere, driving me nuts and stealing things from my friends, from school, and from my family and hiding them in my closet or under my bed. Instead of being taken away from the case-worker I wanted to travel the world.

Maybe I could go to Ireland and talk to the king of the fairies... Or something like that.. So I started to steal cans of food instead of eating them, and hid them away in my closet. Then, when I was twelve, I packed all of the food and a few of my clean clothes away and left the house when everyone was sleeping. I ended up running after a few blocks because monsters were following me, they had been sent my the case-worker.. I know it. The fairies led me into a park I used to play in with Daddy.. The monsters couldn't get into the park, but the fairies were still everywhere.. I hid my back pack and dug a huge hole in the sand-box. By the time that the sun started to come up I laid in the hole with a blanket covering me. I woke up to see an old man grinning at me. It was Maxwell.. I thought he was a Case Worker though and I attacked him instead of listening to him... It was the first time in a long time that anyone but my Daddy knocked me out.. I woke up in the mansion.. the heaven for all kids.

So I've been here for halfa year, like I told you. I've gotten into a few fights... but I try not to get so angry since I punched Tarin just cause I didn't like my breakfast and she got too close to me when I tried to make it myself... Maxwell was mad at me for that..I won't do it again...

Credit: Deviant art by Dziubek304

Originally Posted by AleRae

..■□■Alexis Zapporo Inesha■□■..



My name is Alexis.. or Alexi, I don't care and I am 16 as of November 13th and I am female. I feel that I am unknown, since I prefer have yet to be anything short of freaked out by any sort of interaction all my life. I reside in room number 11 and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from paranoia, Obsessive Complusive Disorder, germophobia, and asthma. I don't know what I feel about Maxwell's mansion because I don't know the full story, so I can't decide, because if I did, the world would explode. At least, it would for me. For 1 year I have lived here. I have been told that I'm obnoxiously skittish around others, which is why Maxwell forced me to room with Rix now. I also tend to clean at my own skin so much it bleeds and then I compulsively clean the scabs. Rooming with a child, who are notoriously flithy, terrifies me. It angers many who meet me that I am usually deathly silent around them. I'm just too scared to say anything. After this last round of punishments, Maxwell told me I hafta change that or I could be in trouble.. I adore knitting, despite having to throw away I make because the truth is that yarn and string and all those things get so gross and the diseases they could in theory carry.. Dear gods.. Also music, as long as I don't have to touch the device that's playing it.

I was born a fairly normal child, I think. Or so hear. Or was I? Oh gods, was I normal?.. Frick.. Anyways.. When I was 11, I was attacked by a psychopathic teenaged boy who went off his meds. He did lots of bad bad things to me.. Beating me up with his fists, slamming me against a wall, he may or may not have raped me.. I can't remember much, because one of the times he hit my head against the wall, it caused me to have a seizure. Because of that, I can't really remember what I was like before that day.. But I remember what my family was like before that, and how much it hurt when they realized I was different..

Before my accident, my mom was really close to me. She was warm and loving, always went out of her way to make me smile or giggle on a bad day. I was her only babygirl and the light of her eyes. Poppa was kinda the same way, really. But I was extra special to him. He'd sneak me out when I was in trouble to take me for ice cream, or a late night trip to the park for swinging time. That all changed..

When I began cleaning at myself so often I had scabs, they panicked. Freaked out. Dragged me to every doctor they could. When my asthma made it so I could barely jog without collapsing, I heard them talking about replacing my lungs entirely. The more problems that came up that they couldn't fix, the more they distanced from me. I was their only child, and now I was just a broken thing.. I heard them whispering about just wanting to put me up for adoption and trying for a fresh kid... I ran away. Which was, yanno, dangerous and gross and even now it amazes me that I pulled it off. Cuz, yanno, ew.

Anyways.. Maxwell found me. Like he knew my brain, he offered me sanitizing wipes and an inhaler. He said that there was a place where I could exist without being a burden and could get the meds I need, where it'd be clean and I could knit as much as I wanted. It sounded awesome....

Well.. Here I am.

Credit: spikeyhelen's flickr; unknown boat passenger

Originally Posted by Seridano

..■□■Sarayu Kazue Aomori■□■..

My name is Sara and I am 15 as of January 3rd and I am female. I feel that I am unknown, since I have not yet been allowed to explore or express my sexuality. I reside in room number 5 and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from depression with mild psychosis linked to personal feelings of shame and general inadequacy that have become more severe since I was taken in by Maxwell, asthma, and mild OCD). . I want to stay at Maxwell's mansion because I have been violated by that vile man and my shame is complete. I believe that there is little chance that my parents would ever take me back because of what has occured.. I have just arrived.

I have been told that I'm [b]Quiet, mature, self-sufficient, distant, a bit uptight, and talented. I adore playing instruments (mostly my violin, I rarely go anywhere without it) and singing (though I'm really not that great at singing and would never do it in front of anyone). I also enjoy reading as an escape, writing as a relase for feelings that I am otherwise not allowed to show in public, and collecting marbles. Thankfully my parents have yet to find my journal, though now I wonder if they ever will since it was with me when Maxwell came and....it's best to try not to think about that. I'll stop here for now.

It's all I can do to keep from screaming, but my parents, it would seem, have taught me well, and I manage a polite if somewhat worried smile at the boy I'm meant to share a room with. Hopefully it didn't seem inviting...it couldn't have. Not after...I freeze up, knowing that Maxwell is somewhere behind me, expecting me to enter the room and set the few possessions I came with in their new spaces. Of course, I keep my diary in my bookbag, some part of me refusing to let him see something so personal, so private, though to what purpose I don't know, he's seen everything else I have to....offer. Bile inches its way up my throat and I choke it back as I hurry into the room and set my bag upon the unoccupied bed. Each stepp is a trial, but I know well the consequences that come with stubborn refuseal.

Glancing worriedly at the door I find that Maxwell has vanished. I can't help but continue to be on edge. Watching, he must be watching me just like....My mind goes blank and without realizing it I climb up onto the bed and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs for comfort rather than warmth. It's so cold here, so very cold, but I have no desire for warmth now. Surely that too comes at a price in this place. As for the tears mapingg their own little roads along my cheeks, I have no desire to think about where they've traveled from. I wish I had a say in what I thought about.

That night my brain betrays me. I get up, tiptoe over to my bag, and get out my diary. Everything that has led up to that fateful moment plays before my mind's eye, my shame compounded again and again and...I read on, letting it wash over me, deserving it; The day my parents realized that I would never master all things...especially sports, the time I broke my arm and my caligraphy stared back at my as ugly as could be, the performances where I tried my hardest and heard my parents saying 'as expected' or, 'you'll have to try harder' over the roar of applause from the crowd at my recitals....and finally, the look upon Mr.Maxwell's face after he'd tricked me, when I realized that the kindly old man who enjoyed the sound of my violin had more than the pleasures of sound in mind. I slam my diary shut and toss it across the room (I haven't done that in forever), but the images that comes with the words are not so easily thrown aside.

Credit: Play-by is Jing Tian from asianbeauty pic, found via hollow-art.

Originally Posted by Malice

..■□■Erin Joseph Alexii■□■..


My name is Erin Joseph Alexii and I am 17 as of March fourteenth, and I am a guy. I feel that I am bisexual, since I prefer males and females, depending on my mood and... "status". I reside in room number 4. Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from MPD, mild schizophrenia, and a growth disorder. I want to stay in Maxwell's mansion because I work out better here than I ever did in the real world, and Maxwell has treated me amazingly. For 2 years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm rather... strange. Y'see, my personality doesn't exactly stay the same all the time like most other people. Some of the kids here have mood swings, but that isn't really all that much compared to me. I'm not really a single person. Beneath this skin, I have many people inside me. I don't really know any of 'em all that well, but they come and go from time to time. It makes things interesting; I watch from the backseat while my body is controlled by someone else. Other than that little quirk, I guess I'm an okay guy. Before I came here, I really didn't have too many friends, but all the girls at my school thought how I acted when I was normal was cute. Then again, I went to a school for the "criminally insane", so I'm not sure if that opinion counts. I'm really judgmental, and I can be an asshole about it sometimes. I'm very musical, which is one of the reasons Maxwell saved me. Most of the time I try to stay quiet but for when I'm around Cupid or Tarin. I kind of liked Tarin for a while, but I'm wayyy too shy to ever say anything about it. I guess I'm not really friends with her... she doesn't seem to want to be "friends" with anyone. I dunno. I'm also a very unsure person, and most of the time I'm submissive, unless of course I'm not me. I guess I'm kind of effeminate sometimes... I have a girly body, and my voice is kinda high. I don't like that I'm so short... 5' 1" isn't a good thing to be as a guy. Well, it's whatever. People can take me how I want, just like I can take them how I want to.

I adore music. It is my life, everything. I'm not like most restrictive and close-minded assholes; I listen to literally every genre of music, and write it too. Maxwell, over the past two years, has supplied me with tons of stuff to do this; different instruments, and even a recording table. This makes me unimaginably happy. Sometimes I like writing, but I'm not good at it. I just use lots of big words to make myself sound more intelligent... although sometimes I take on a bit of a "cutesy" flair, and act like an 8-year-old. It's fun, and some of the smaller kids like it.

I was really small when I was born. 5 pounds nine ounces. This quickly changed as I grew up. As soon as I hit age one though, my "smallness" quickly vanished. I shot up, outgrowing other kids and reaching my maximum height of 5' 1" by age six. This was, incidentally, the same age that things in my brain began to change. I started hearing little whispers in my head, little workings in the background that I didn't really understand. I started doing weird things at school. I don't really remember a lot of it happening, and what I do remember I had perfectly good reasons for. I only stabbed Sarah Gallagher in the arm with the scissors because she wouldn't give me Lucien (my stuffed panda) back.

But yeah, to make a long story short, I ended up in therapy. Now, my mom, she was amazing throughout all of this. She would put up with my fits, my mood swings, my little quirks and occasional punching. She dealt with it all mostly by herself, since my dad was mostly out working. And by working I mean drinking. He wasn't exactly an alcoholic, but he was getting close. His friends were alcoholics, and that worried my mom a lot. Especially since my father wasn't exactly my biggest fan; he wanted a big, strong man as a son. Not the "fucking little girl" that I was turning into. A little bit before I turned seven, him and two or three friends came back to our house at around 1 AM. I don't remember what happened really. I get little flashes every once in a while; I've figured out that my mom tried to protect me, and ended up half dead in the process. I remember the phrase "sick and tired of this psycho shit" shouted quite a few times, by several different voices.

The next few days are blurry. I remember the hospital, and I remember voices. Some of them didn't seem to have bodies. Some of them did. My father and his friends, I found out, were on trial. He would most likely go to prison; the friends had a 50/50 chance of either getting let off or getting six months to a year in a county jail. My mom succumbed to her injuries two weeks after the incident.

I would go further into describing my parents' relationship and such, but I honestly don't remember a lot of it. I don't even remember their names. My memory of that time is... well, almost not even there.

My personalities became more pronounced. I've managed to identify two for sure, as they seem to be the most present; Aaron is just insane, stupid, and an asshole. Luther... he's scary. He's the one that does the hurtful things. He mostly stays back, but when he takes control, there's little I can do to stop it. Sometimes I feel him coming forward, and I'm not sure how long I can hold him back for...


Credit: Deviantart - muchlikefalling: "Have you forgotten?"

Originally Posted by r_e_n_o_Love

..■□■Jiao Sun■□■..

My name is Jiao and I am Sixteen as of April 13 and I am female. I feel that I am unsure, since I have only preferred one person in my entire life. I reside in room number nine and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from severe paranoia, though no one really notices it. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because he is my savior. For half a year I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm as mannered as a princess. I'm very sociable, more so now than I ever was. I just let myself laugh, while as before I would only laugh when it was appropriate. Although I may worry about it later, I act silly on occasion. I love observing people now that I have the time to do it and I also enjoy learning new things.. I adore Singing, dancing, acting and looking beautiful. And just being a TEENAGER!.

I was born and raised in China. I grew up going to private schools instead of home school only because I was put in public view. At the age of six I had been given off to the highest bidder. When I was older I was to marry the son of a banker who was five years older than I was. I had only met him on a few occasions, and I couldn't even remember his name for anything. At the age of thirteen I met an American boy named Troy. I found that he attracted my attention, I ended up secretly dating him for two years, after that he suddenly disappeared. I've never and probably will never feel anything like that which I have felt for him, that which he said was love.

I have always been the object of my family. I'm the first girl born on my father's side and I'd also been what sealed the deal of marriage between two high class families. I was also a jewel to the world. People would always pass me a complement and my family did their best to uphold this through out my life. It seemed like I was always in public view and I thought that this was all normal. I had no time to wonder if there was another life to live. I had been programmed for such attention. I pleased the audiences and brought my family a positive view all by my cutesy smile and a batter of my eye lashes. I had no reason to think because there would always be someone there that would do that for me.

I met Maxwell during a photo shoot. He was there waiting in my dressing room. He opened my eyes, he told me that this life I had was not normal for a girl my age. He told me what kind of life I should be having and what I could have. Such promises peeked my curiosity. It seemed then that he had been my savior and I still somewhat believe it true. I don't miss my family because I had never had any connection with them. Being here gave her the opportunity to know those of my own age and be a little more normal, of course what is normal really?

Credit: janenorman of Deviantart

Originally Posted by r_e_n_o_Love

..■□■Jean Lewie DePierre■□■..

My name is Jean Lewie DePierre, yes I'm French. Most call me Lewie or Lew. and I am Sixteen as of December 25 and I am Male. I feel that I am ...pshh... I don't know. , since I prefer no one in particular. Why do people keep asking me this ??! I reside in room number two and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from homicidal tendencies, and irrational behavior. I want to well, I don't if I want to stay at Maxwell's mansion because I was kinda, ya know... kidnapped, but I guess anythings better than being strapped up to a hospital bed in my own room! I have just arrived.

I have been told that I'm Well I'm full of myself if you have not noticed. I have a fabulous sense of humor. I am unpredictable. Completely unpredictable. I don't think I have to much of a temper, I'm just crazy. I'm a brilliant fellow, a bit tricky and often times random as hell. I love taking chances, living life on the edge. I don't know why, but most people tend to love me.. I adore Poetry and Manipulating. .

I was born during a winter in France. My mother, Marie, died shortly after giving me birth. She was a lovely woman. My father, Henry, remarried not even half a year later to a woman named Beatrice. She was one of my father's friends younger sisters. She was always good to me although I believe she would have preferred to have a daughter. Beatrice got her wish when i was just ten. Little Nattially. She was adorable and I am surprised she came from my father's genes. Ah... the little angel stole my birthday from me.

After she was born though she turned me into a ghost just about. I was thankful. especially since she kept my father's attention for awhile at least.

My father was a big time army general. He didn't like my care free attitude and he certainly didn't approve of my body's in-ability to gain alarming muscles. I think he was so very tempted to pass me steroids. Well he settled for insane exercises and protein shakes and all those damn vitamin pills!

One night my parents were fighting. I was down stairs with Nattially. We were watching some Disney movie or at least trying to. After awhile it got to be to much for Nattially's little ears. She began to cry. I had to cover her ears and hold her till she was able to fall asleep. I already knew who to blame. That night I placed a pillow over my father's head. I pressed it as hard as I could although I hardly knew what I was doing in the moment. Of course he got free and lived. Next thing I knew I was strapped to a hospital bed in my room having drugs pumped into me.

I guess you could say that was when I met Maxwell. He asked me if I were happy. I thought i was dreaming and told him I was alive. nex thing I knew I had something going through my skin, ten eberything went black. Lovely right?

Credit: http://th03.deviantart.com/fs20/300W...61e8ced66c.jpg

Originally Posted by DearSweetAru

..■□■Christoph Olin Gabriel■□■..

My name is Gabriel and I am sixteen as of November 13th and I am male. I feel that I am bisexual, since I like both genders, but everyone assumes I'm straight. I reside in room number five and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from hallucinations, chronic depression, and suicidal tendencies. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because I feel I deserve every bit of pain that old man can dish out at me. For two years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm cold-hearted, distant, and quiet, but no one knows the real me.. I adore fighting and anything else that can distract myself from what happened years ago.

My parents detested me for as long as I can remember and both made sure I knew it by constantly beating and degrading me until their pathetic, drunken selves were satisfied; maybe that's why I don't care about what others say of me. We lived in Germany in a town I have long forgotten, since we moved when I was roughly five years old, because my mother was pregnant and homesick and mother gets what mother wants.

Though the move was great for me, since my younger sister Gabria was born. She was the one person that I could be myself around and I loved her, she meant the world to me. Soon enough we got friends, everything was going well whenever I wasn't home. My parents still beat me, but with Gabria by my side none of it matter. All I cared about was making sure that she was the happiest child in the world; that she would never feel the pain I suffered. So, I burned our house down with our drunk parents sleeping inside while Gabria was off playing with her friends. Their deaths meant that Gabria's life wasn't risked; she was free from any pain they could cause her. From then on we lived in an abandoned shack in the woods.

We became great friends with a boy named Kai when I was twelve years old and I immediately fell in love with him. He was sweet, kind, and understood my feelings for my sister. The three of us would play together, the world was amazing when I was with them, but then something happened that drastically changed my life forever.

I would prefer to not go into grave detail, but Gabria died. Something caused her to run off a cliff nearby and she landed on the spike rocks below, I was far too sick to catch her before she reached it. I buried her once I could get down to her body. Kai found me hours later with my clothes soaked in her blood as my head hung low while I sat atop her grave, holding flowers she had picked earlier close to my chest. Every emotion in me shut down and nothing mattered anymore.

"Chrono?" A name I was once called, but never more. "What happened?" he asked, slowly and carefully he went down on his knees, gently placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Who is Chrono but a boy who cannot even protect the one he cares for..." The flowers dropped from my hands one by one.

"Don't talk like that... What happened, Chrono?" Kai slipped his tender hands around my waist, but I jerked away and jumped to my feet. The flowers scattered about her mound of dirt.

"Who is Chrono? My name is Gabriel... Your Chrono is dead. He died with her and he shall forever be," I sneered and stormed off towards the shack. Kai chased after me, but my thoughts were far too clouded to understand a lick of what he said. I slammed my bedroom door shut and pushed every piece of furniture I had against the door to prevent him from coming in. Kai sat outside my door all night waiting for me to finally break and let him in and let him hold me and cry like he knew I needed to, but I didn't deserve such a luxury. That was when he came.

It was late, which I only knew because of how dark the sky was, when that old man stood outside my window with that disgusting grin. He promised to give me all the pain I wanted and to take away my past; that I would be far away from it all. I could hear Kai tapping on my door, begging for me to come out. My eyes darted from the old man to the door numerous times before I stood up and made a decision, a rather obvious one.

Credit: on Deviantart by Old Motel Bed http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs18/i/2007/204...d_Motel_Bed.jpg

Originally Posted by Alexxxiel

҄҄҄҄҄҄

҉ ¤☼..Rien Areal Zirco ..☼¤ ҉

My name is Rien but I go by Riri or Raz since no one can really pronounce my name and I am sixteen as of February thirtieth and I am male. I feel that I am homosexual, since I prefer men. I reside in room number eight and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from Asthma, Insomnia, A.D.D, and Amnesia. I want to leave Maxwell's mansion because I never feel safe. For one month I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm calm and wise for what I have. That I do not know my own strength and need to be less rough. Also I seem to notice things others do not normally. I adore dressing up and getting pretty for any occasion, singing and dancing, drawing and painting, working out and keeping his body in shape, and photography.
I know my name is Rien Areal Zirco .... or did I make my name that? Anyways, I think I grew up with my grandparents because my mother died giving birth to me and my father died from some fatal accident. At least that is what I was told. One day I was caught out of bed, but it is not my fault I can not sleep. I was punished by my Uncle and I would rather not talk about what he did to me ... all I can say is that the therapist said it was rape.
That was when I got Asthma and needed an inhaler but often times my new home, the orphanage could not afford to get me one so I'd have to force myself to relax and try to breath. It started to get worse since I only had the inhaler occasionally and then the older kids would pick on me because of my choices of what I wear, mainly the make-up. The fact that I stared at the older boys made it worse, they did not like it when we had to all sleep in the same room and I would get distracted when they stripped down to nothing, while I stayed fully clothed to cover my self as much as possible, but even with covering myself they would notice. One night, again, I was raped, they would shout at me asking me if I liked it and if I were to make any notion to get help they would hit me and ... I shouldn't say anymore. Soon every night it was happening because they enjoyed themselves and I gave up on fighting it, I knew I was strong but not strong enough to fight off five or more adult men that really wanted to do the deed.
That lasted for quite sometime until Maxwell showed up and took me away. He had "adopted" me from the orphanage, or at least that is what he told me when he took me away. There were other kids at Maxwell's place, and that is when I knew he didn't just want me because he liked me, it seemed he had a deeper meaning, I did not like it at all and knew I needed to get out at any cost.

Credit: DeviantArt by GARETHHH

Originally Posted by PhoenixIllusion

..■□■Ryudo Kaiyuu■□■..

My name is Kaiyuu, but you can call me Yuu-chan or Kaipon, or simply “OH MY GOOOOOOOOOODDDD~!”, and I am 6 minus 4 plus 1 times five years old as of THE MUTHAFUCKIN’ NEW YEEEEAAARRR and I am obviously a dude, dude! I feel that I am bisexual, since I prefer dudes and dudettes alike and appreciate them greatly. Multiple times. In one night. I reside in room number 70 devided by 10 and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from chronic depression, hypersexuality and blindness in my right eye. I want to stay… Or… Well, I don’t know. I like living all well and stuff, but when you turn eighteen… Well, I’ll escape of the chance presents itself, but until then I’ll stay at Maxwell's mansion because he treats me really well, and I appreciate it, even though I know he’s a total crook. For six years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm a crrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzyyyyyyyyy little bottle containing the sunshine of a couple thousand suns, and a complete sweet heart~! I’m the one who helps Tarin out with cooking and I help clean the little one’s rooms. I also act as maintenance, since I’m good at fiddling around with… Well, anything! Of course, I’m also known as sex crazy, too, and is your local pervert and flirt, although I have SOME restraint… Just don’t blame me if you see me staring at your ass if you’re 13 or older. I’m also known as a little, ah… Bi-polar, one minute I’m happy as can be, the next I’m hating myself and sulking, and then I’m suddenly a raving bitch who REALLY needs to fuck someone. Or get fucked, I’m not picky. Oh, could you tell I have a foul mouth? I’m not too good at controlling it, even when the little ones are around. Also- I help everyone, especially the hated ones, any way I can, like Cupid! He’s got the same meds as me, so I often give him some of my meds when he runs out. I adore sex, fixing stuff, cleaning, sex, cooking, electronics, sex, kids, sex, sex, Sex, SEX, SEX SEX SEX SEX SEXSEXSEXSEEEEEEEEEXXXXXX~! Oh, and covertly helping others.

I was born into a poor family in the slums. My mom was ugly, my dad was ugly, my sister was ugly and my brothers were ugly, but I was the only one that looked good- Hell, not just good, fan-fucking-tastic! Unfortunately, my family didn’t receive my prettiness very well. Now that I think about it, they were probably jealous. Either way, when I was five, for whatever reason, my brothers happened to catch me in the living room and raped me right there. Worst thing was, my parents and sister saw, and they just continued like it was nothing.
After that, Mom had the wonderful idea of selling me for money. And that they did. How I didn’t get any STDs or crap like that, I dunno, but I drew in a lot of cash- Enough for them to make business in the high class neighborhoods, where the situation didn’t change but the cash flow did. I started to have more free time as well, and started tinkering with electronics, taking them apart and putting them back together. Apparently, my teachers thought of me as an engineering genius, but instead of making my family proud, it just made them even more jealous, and things got worse. After a while, my parents expanded their employees beyond just me and eventually they didn’t have a use for me anymore. So they sold me, right to Mr. Maxwell. He promised me I would be safe, but by that time I was already a sex addict- It was all I ever really knew. But I appreciated the words none the less and I adored him, finding him like the father figure my own father never was. Of course, after a year in that place, I started to realize that he wasn’t as awesome or kind as I thought he was. But that’s okay- I know how to suck up to save my ass, but I’m still gonna help everyone else I can, and if someone finds a way out, then I’ll help them with everything I can.

Credit: fogke on deviantART

Originally Posted by Keyasha

..■□■Rodney Jeremy King■□■..

My name is Rod and I am 20 as of April 2nd and I am male. I feel that I am straight, since I prefer men. I ain't no fruit. I reside in room number Tarin's I guess since I don't really have amy own room. Been locked up, yanno? and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from had a fucked up home life and some problems. I was getting into a lot of trouble. I have anger problems and I used to be a kleptomaniac. I was in perfect health but now, you know, I'm all fucking skinny and weak. I want to leave Maxwell's mansion because have you seen what that sick does to people? I'm getting the fuck out of here, and maybe I'll take some with me. I feel sorry for them, okay? Especially Tarin...if I take any one of them, it'll be her. For years I have lived here I have just arrived.

I have been told that I come off tough. I’m mean lookin’ and if you push my wrong buttons, I’ll go off on ya, but I have a heart. I’m a good friend. I’d kill for you if you don’t turn around and stab me in the back. That sets me off. I guess you can label me the "big brother". I have a sense of humor. I ain’t no dried up prune. I’ll save that for when I’m old. I’ve been told that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I say what’s on my mind without thinking and it gets me into some trouble. I’m impatient. Anyone who likes waiting ain’t normal.. I adore lock picking, stealing and anything else illegal that I picked up from my younger years.

I grew up in a small little country town. The high school I went to cared mostly about tail gating and being good at sports. I lived with my Mom, my Dad and my older brother Jacob. Okay, so for my parents my brother was always a suck up pansy. He would be good and make me seem bad but when he was away from my parents, oh, he’s a stuck up prick just like all the other jocks at school. He was a football star and a basketball star. He always got good grades, how I don’t know. I don’t think he studied when he wasn’t practicing or partying. I always had a little more trouble than my brother. We can’t all be born with talent. Sports were out. I liked lifting weights but aside from that, I didn’t have the talent for anything else. I wasn’t the brightest kid. It took me a long time to figure things out and my pride always stopped me form asking for help. So all my life I lived in the shadow of my jerk brother.

I started acting out a little. Now I realize it was probably to get attention from my parents but hey, I had fun so how cares what they thought ya know? In junior high I started hanging out with the wrong crowd. I starting smoking, drinking but I never got into drugs much. Just wasn’t my thing. By the time I had gotten into high school I had been to juvenile hall twice. Haha the first time we like, hot wired this tractor and acted like we were gonna run over all the cows at this guys farm. Good times, good times.

Well, it all hit the fan when I was about um, 16. My Dad was getting all butt hurt about some teacher who called to tell him I had ditched today. So he was yellin’ and screamin’ at me. I just argued back, I don’t know why, it didn’t get me anywhere. Well, I pretty much lost it when he yelled “Why can’t you be more like your brother?!”. I didn’t even think about it when I punched him in the nose, breaking it in four places. After that I ran off.

I was hoping my so-called friends would let me crash at one of their houses but nah. They weren’t real friends. I had been living on the streets for about a month when Maxwell found me. He could probably tell by my appearance I was homeless. He offered me a place to stay but I declined. I mean, some random older dude comes and asks me to stay at his place? Hell no. I’ve seen movies. He could be some rapist or something is what I was thinking. He seemed kinda pissed but left me alone. He found me again one day. I don’t know if he was stalking me or what but I was really hungry and I wanted a shower so bad that I agreed.

I was in that sick place for six months and I hated every minute. I tried escaping a few times and got kinda mouthy with Maxwell a lot and got beat for it, or someone else did. Tarin tried to sacrifice herself a few times but I’d take a good beating for her. She seemed so, I don’t know, fragile. She was so messed up. Anyway, lets not get into the whole Tarin thing okay? I don’t wanna talk about it, So anyway, I uh got curious about the “locked room” upstairs and decided I wanted to pick the lock and look inside. Well, what I found…it ain’t pretty that’s all. Before I could tell anyone though, Maxwell came and I disappeared.

Originally Posted by PhoenixIllusion

..■□■Muirenn McCuinn■□■..

My name is Goddess or God, but if that’s too much, then you can call me Divine as long as you put Mistress, Master, Queen or Empress in front of it, and I am 16 as of October 17 and I am female. I feel that I am bisexual, since I prefer the mere mortals below me to follow my every whim. I reside in room number 1 and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from megalomania, delusions, violent tendencies, narcissism and a god complex. I want to do whatever the hell I want. At the moment, however, I’ll stay at Maxwell's mansion because I like it here. For 4 years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm a complete bitch, because those stupid peons don’t understand that I am above them in everyway, especially that Jinx bitch. Pretty much everyone is scared of me, because I can and will kick their asses quite easily, and I have no patience for those brats. Despite their foolishness, I am merciful and willing to assist them if I feel its worth it. Of course, I occasionally have to smack a few idiots around to make them listen to me, but I suppose that’s just how it is. I am pretty much a goddess they are lucky to be blessed with, I mean, really, who would want to bother with scruffy rats like them? I get what I want, ALWAYS, by manipulation or violence, and no one will stand in my way- Not even Maxwell, if it came to it. Of course, I’m not stupid, and when Maxwell is around I’m well loved, after all, Maxwell is the only one I respect around here. In fact, I bet if it came between me and Jinx, he would chose me without a second thought. Oh, yes, and I’m known to smack anyone who dares to call me something disrespectful. I adore myself, people who serve me without question, beating insolent peons, being flattered, showing how much better I am than anyone else, reveling in my brilliance and manipulating others to do something stupid as to entertain myself.

I was born to a great family in Ireland, rich and noble. My family always told me I was better than anyone, and I proved it with my genius in school, as I knew more than the tutors could teach me. A prodigy, I planned on taking over the family business of medicine when the time came, and was groomed to be the heiress. My eldest brother, the fool of a man, became jealous, which I could not blame him. After all, not everyone could be so perfect as I was. Once he heard the position as head was passed over him and my other older brother to me, he seethed in such an amusing way. He was so angry he stole me in the middle of the night and tried to kill me, but I easily overpowered him, as father sent me to trainers that taught me to defend myself. That was my first taste of blood, with my elder brother whimpering on the floor before me. I was such a strong girl for my age, although the metal pipe nearby helped by much. It was afterwards I killed him, and when they found me, I was not blamed. Self defense, after all, and the boy was trying to kill me. Who could blame a poor, confused little girl attacked by her precious big brother? –giggle-

Regardless, I grew older, and found violence to be exhilarating, and used it often to put fools in their place. My second brother, who was two years my elder, adored me, worshiped the ground I walked upon, as he should. He was a faithful servant to me, did all I asked of him, and I even found him worthy of being my first. Unfortunately, things came to an end when he was killed when someone tried to attack me. Afterwards, I made sure to tighten my iron hand, as such perfection would be a waste if I was killed. Then, finally, at the age of 12, I had been walking down a street when I was approached by a man named Maxwell. He had power and intelligence I immediately came to respect, and I agreed to go with him, for I found my life at home to be ridiculously boring.

At Maxwell House, I consider it to be my own personal mansion where I rule, and any who dare to try and rebel will meet my hand- Especially that Jinx bitch. When she came, I never really liked her- She thought of herself as beautiful, which annoyed me because she looks like shit. So I take it upon myself to remind her of her place.

Credit: MojoKiss on deviantART

Originally Posted by PhoenixIllusion

..■□■Zachary Markus■□■..

My name is Zack[ and I am 12 as of May 12th and I am male. I feel that I am straight, since I prefer girls. I reside in room number 4 and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from ADHD, pyromania and dyslexia. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because he actually cares about me. For two years I have lived here.

I have been told that I'm hyperactive and always getting into trouble with everyone. I love to talk and mess around and I can never take anything seriously, mostly because I have such a short attention-Oh, hey, a butterfly! Come’ere little butterfly~ I wanna chase it~. I adore everything fun and not homework or work! Oh, and explosions. Fire too! Fire, fire, burnin’ higher~

I dunno, I grew up on the streets for as long as I remember. It wasn’t fun, because I spent years never knowing if ah was gonna live 'r not. Then Maxwell happened to find me. He took me offa them streets and brought me here, so I’m happy I gots food and stuff! Now ah dun have'ta searcg garbage stuffs fer food or clothes or anythin'!

Credit: willowhisperer.deviantart.com

Originally Posted by Abomination.

..■□■Dereck F. Landon ■□■..

My name is Dereck F. Landon and I am 16 as of January 1st and I am male. I feel that I am bisexual, since I prefer males, but I still do like girls. I reside in room number seven and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from schizophrenia and autophobia - the fear of being alone. I want to stay at Maxwell's mansion because I don't have to be alone. Anywhere else, and I would be, for I have just arrived.

I have been told that I'm usually nice and caring, though I often ignore people who I don't know that well. I adore music and people who have musical talents. I can play the violin and the piano, and do so whenever I need to clear my mind. I love flowers, and though I'm not the best artist I love to draw, often the things that really catch my eye.

For two years, I've been struggling with schizophrenia. I don't really remember when the autophobia kicked in, but I'd never wanted to be alone, anyhow. Back to schizophrenia; I can't tell what's real, or what's fake, meaning I could have one of those crazy dreams with clowns and everything floating around, and I'd think it'd actually happened, and when I woke up to tell you about your face turning into Godzilla you'd look at me like I was mentally insane.

Which I am.

But again, what would you expect from a guy who hears voices in his head?

I'm suprised I lasted this long without saying something totally wacky, because another negative of schizophrenia: disorganized thinking and/or speech. I think it's the meds, the meds, the meds. The meds that help the kid's dreams in beds. Aw, heck.. I'd better leave now while I still have sense. Because really, you can't make sense out of nonsense, and to me the nonsense is all the sense I need.

Where's my pills?

Credit: One of my friends on myspace allowed me to use his picture.

Originally Posted by trytostopyou

..■□■Atticus Johnson■□■..

• My name is Atticus and I am 17 as of June 12th and I am a guy. I feel that I am straight, most of the time, since I prefer nice, beautiful women when I'm sober. I reside in room number three and Dr. Maxwell brought me to his mansion because I suffer from alcoholism, heroine addiction, social aversion, and insomnia. I want to stay Maxwell's mansion because I've got nothing past this place. I was nothing when he picked me up, and I'll be nothing when I go back. 'Sides, I've been here so long, why not see it through until the end? I've wondered since that night what happened to Rod... Seems only fair that I see to it myself, as well. For two years, I have lived here. I have been told that I'm pissy and intimidating. I mean, I guess I can be, but people use these words so... freely. I've been told m'quiet, too. People say I walk around with a certain hitch in my step like I'm always looking behind me or waiting for something bad to happen; which I guess, in this house, is probably true. I've also been told by closer friends that I'm loyal and personable, which is a massive contradiction to what others say. A lot of the cooler ones that I keep an eye out for call me kinda a guardian. I may be a cruel bastard sometimes, but if comes to hidin' someone in my room or throwing them to Maxwell, the choice should be obvious.... I adore working out. It's a way for me to keep my body as fresh as my mind, and it provides a good distraction for when I just don't have the heart to care for some of these kids. Really, I admire Tarin for her patience; I could never do what she does. I really like people watching, because it's just so easy in this house. I could tell you anything you wanna know about whoever you wanna know about, and I owe that all to my trusty journal of creepy notes. I like reading about medication and disorders, mostly because I have a habitual sense of diagnosing myself just to make sure I haven't caught anything worse from this Hellhole than what I had on the streets.
  
  As ashamed as I am to admit it, I like drinking. And doin' drugs. And stealing. So, sue me? The old man gives me these meds that make the addiction not quite as terrible, and I have to say: after a couple of years dry of the stuff, I pretty much have it kicked. But, damn, just thinking about the cold sweat drippin' down the side of a bottle is still a very, very delicious thought. Still, I've searched and scoured and pried through this whole fucking house for a drop of booze, and I ain't found a lick of it. That's not a bad thing! No, definitely not! The last thing I'd wanna do is teach these poor things the nastiness of the substances outside, but... The thought...I started out the same way everyone expects kids like me to. Broken home, beat up mom who picked the wrong sort of guys at the wrong time, always tryin' to make the best of life for me but ultimately fuckin' shit up in the end. Pop left before I ever knew him, and the earliest memory I got of my mother is her blood drippin' on my cheek as she sheltered me from the harshness of gangsters stealin' our shit. She worked odd jobs, helpin' out neighbors and working at soup kitchens. Oftentimes I wondered if she was just stacking up her good deeds so that those freeloaders might help us once we were in the same place as them. Good deeds don't pay the bills though, and she pulled herself lower than low, finally helping us out of the shithole we were in.
  
  Right around when I was thirteen, we hit ghetto middle class. That is to say, we finally had an apartment on the second floor and a TV that didn't resemble a computer screen. Still, I was a little shit. I didn't like watching her come home from long nights, make up smeared and face beat up from some asshole who felt like she didn't make him cum fast enough. I wasn't appreciative of the shit that I had, and I took to wallowing in self-pity instead. So, like the dumb little fuck I was, I took to the streets. I went to illegal clubs and did shots, fucked women in the alleyways, and basically tried to act tough. I worked out regularly so that people learned not to fuck with me, and I didn't some stuff I'm not proud of...
  
  Eventually, dear ol' Mom found out. There was some arguin', some screamin', and finally we let it go because the sun was comin' up over the polluted horizon of this urban shithole. It wasn't until she burst into our little apartment with eyes like a fightin' fox that my life really took a turn for the worse. I was chillin' on the couch, shooting up as usual, and I even had the nerve to yell at her for comin' into her own house without knocking because I was pissed that I had the to hide the needle. She didn't even care, whipping around to shut the door on the intruder who pushed past her like she was paper in the wind. I shot up from the couch, dizzy with The Lady but determined to fight for my mom.
  
  Here's a lil' spoiler for you: I lost.
  
  The next thing I remember is bein' on the streets, doin' just about anything for the money for my quick fix of Heroine or booze... Then Maxwell took me in, and I was safe.
  
  Or, rather... safer than I was there.

So, ja :) Any OOC, post here. Questions and such concerning the RP can go here too. Also chat shiz >D

:sarcasm: :gonk: :drool:

Love those faces :P


I might add summaries here too, if it gets hectic.

Summary:

Rod is half dead.
Rix tried to EAT Alexis.
Cupid has a concussion : D Which is normal for him. >.>
Tarin is losing her mind. Which I gather is normal.
Maxwell ate Gabe 8D

You forgot Kaiyuu grabbed Rod, Clara attacked Jinx- FINALLY, and there's a creeper on the premises that's NOT Maxwell.

Yeahh.. I was just going for funny out-of-context quips.. I forgot about Clara attacking Jinx xD

lmao xD Nice job, guys. Such lovely summaries.


EDIT:
I gotta talk to Keyasha about Rod xD When we were talking it seemed like we decided Rod was gone for two years in this one... but his thing says like... three and a half. So I needta remember to talk to her and confirm which one it is XDDD

Del's new characters have been added 8D make sure to read them. Especially since they've been here awhile.

Erin and Tarin gained roomies.

Aru =P You should already know that I won't be here for two days or so... But I feel it necessary to say so again here.

NO NO I DID NOT KNOW >.> DESPITE BEING IN LIKE FOUR RPS WITH YOU I HAVE NO CLUE <.<

*IS SHOCKED*

XDDD