Post by MATTHEW PETERSON on May 28, 2011 15:22:38 GMT -5
...Matthew James Peterson*
* "Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing." *
[/size]* "Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing." *
...basics*
name Matthew James Peterson
nickname Matt
age Seventeen
gender Male
grade Junior
hometown San Francisco, California
sexuality Heterosexual
personification Peter Pan
status Dormant
face claim Andrew Garfield
...appearance*
hair color light brown
eye color brown
build tall and slender
height 5'10", but he'll always round up to six feet.
clothing style Whatever fits. Being "in style" has never really been at the top of Matt's priorities, and thus he's slipped over the years into literally grabbing whatever is nearest to him as he rolls out of bed. So far it hasn't caused any issues (save with his step-mother), and if even if it had, it's not as if he would have altered his habits for anyone.
distinctive traits
First and foremost, Matt has a killer smile. It's that sort of innocently mischievous grin that only a five year old can ever really manage to pull off, but he still manages to do so quite wonderfully.
Although not a trait that too many know about, Matt is actually missing two of his adult teeth; it's not all that uncommon of a condition, and they're part of the lower set, so he doesn't mind much. The baby teeth are still there, so it's not as if anyone can tell, anyway.
There's usually a bit of dirt to be found underneath his fingernails--not nearly enough to be gross, but just enough to make it apparent he spends more time outside than in.
...personal*
personality
COCKY
If there was only one word allowed to describe Matt, it would be this. Quite simply put, he thinks he can do no wrong. Self-assured in the most dangerous of ways, he would easily be the first person to climb atop a water tower and volunteer to jump off with only a string attached, all because he suffers under the belief that he's invincible. Quick to point out when he's right (and even quicker to claim the credit from others when he isn't), Matt is a bit arrogant, but there's even still an innocence about his person that wouldn't allow an adjective quite that strong to be used.
GUARDED
Of course, no one can be cocky and cocky alone. Everyone hides things; sometimes it's just harder to spot that they're shielding. Matt doesn't talk much about himself. Sure, he talks more than anyone ever should when it comes to bragging and competition, but he absolutely despises serious conversation. He hardly ever talks about where he grew up, and gets overly defensive if anyone pushes upon him topics he doesn't like or isn't in the mood to discuss; such topics are hard to discover, however, as he changes his mind so frequently.
OBLIVIOUS/FORGETFUL
Matt has a horrible memory. It's the sort of memory that got him into loads of trouble growing up, for things ranging from forgetting homework to forgetting to come home after school. He'll deny this fault at all costs, however, and can oftentimes craft lies so quickly people will forget he couldn't remember anything at all.
CENTER OF ATTENTION
It's sort of an effortless thing for Matt, being in the center of the circle with the spotlight on him. He's a natural leader, and has been since he was young. Combined with his cockiness and uncanny knack for finding and becoming the center of trouble, it can be quite the dangerous combination.
CHARMING
He has no idea how he does it, nor does he really care, but Matt has a natural way of getting others to do what he wants. Maybe it's the smile, or the way he carries himself as if nothing could go wrong, but Matt has a certain way about him that could probably convince even the most cautious of bookworms to jump off a bridge with him simply because he chuckled and said "Won't it be fun?" Again, combined with his chronic obliviousness to danger and delusion of invincibility, he proves to be an incredibly dangerous companion.
past
James Peterson met Olivia Fields while vacationing in London, in an area not too far from Kingston Gardens. Olivia was in her second year at Cambridge, while James had graduated the year prior from a small college in Massachusetts, just a few hours from him hometown of Boston. They fell for each other quickly and in the most clichéd and frowned upon of ways, and by the end of James's three-month-long trip to England, there were two tickets booked for the flight back to America, much to Olivia's parents displeasure.
They were married shortly afterward, and lived a life of relative simplicity. James found himself a solid job as an insurance agent at a small firm in town, while Olivia worked as a waitress in restaurant in Boston's more firmly historical district, where her accent was much appreciated. Around a year and a half after their marriage, Olivia gave birth to a baby boy, who they named Jacob. And four years after that, when they'd saved enough money to move to a house more suited to raising a family than their small two-bedroom apartment, they welcomed another boy into the family, this one called Matthew.
The next two years passed with relative ease and happiness; the family was small and tidy and average, and they were content. Of course, there has never truly been such thing as a happily ever after, and so soon things began to unravel. It began when Jacob was eleven and Matthew five; Olivia was diagnosed with skin cancer, and although the doctors did all they could to remove the malignant cells from her body, they were unsuccessful, and she died just over a year later.
present
The three years that followed were difficult for the Peterson family, and ended in a rather spontaneous (and highly unwelcomed, from the boys' perspective) move to San Francisco, California, where James eventually married another woman by the name of Michelle, although she always insisted Matthew call her "Mom." Jacob, she said, was old enough to call her whatever he wanted, as he could easily remember his biological mother.
Thus Matt grew up in San Francisco from the age of eight onward; he doesn't remember much of Boston, and hardly anything of his actual mother. There are no pictures of her in their house, save for the one Jacob keeps in his nightstand drawer--but Matt only knows about that anyway because he's very good at sneaking around. When Jacob graduated high school he left and took the picture with him, leaving the fourteen year-old Matt with nothing but a memory of a faded photograph. He would ask his father about his mother, but Michelle is always looming, and she acts horribly offended whenever the subject is brought up; not that he minds offending her, it's just that he gets into enough trouble already in school, and can't afford any more at home.
Matt was always a bit of a handful. Quicker than his older brother in almost every way, it was his unexpected bursts of uncontrollable energy that lead him to convince a group of his fellow sixth graders to accompany him onto the roof of the school one day during recess, as well as to trick the substitute teacher into thinking everyone in the class was someone else while their actual seventh grade history teacher was on maternity leave. Of course, such antics were also the cause of hundreds of fights between his parents andn himself, who were at first convinced it was "just a phase," a sort of plea for attention that all children go through. When the behavior ceased to stop, however, they were forced to think of alternative options.
The result was sending Matt to New York, to a private boarding school in the hopes he would return over break a new man. Matt pretended to despise the idea, naturally, for otherwise the opportunity would have been revoked immediately, as he had come to believe parents revoked all children's rights to do anything fun and exciting. As it was, he couldn't wait to leave San Francisco, and was really only looking forward to the chance to get as far away from his parents as humanly possible, if only because then there would be no rules.
family
father: James Peterson, 41, insurance agent
biological mother: Olivia Peterson, deceased
step-mother: Michelle Peterson, 37
brother: Jacob Peterson, 21, college student- haven't spoken in years
likes
1) Redwoods. "They're so high up in the air. Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to climb one 'n be on the top of the world like that?
2) Whistling. "Never tried playing an instrument- Michelle always said only girls played flutes, which was what I wanted to play- but I sure as hell can whistle. I'd be great at the flute too. The best, probably."
3) Stories. "Listening to stories, that is. Adventure ones, with lots of danger."
4) Adrenaline rushes.
5) Making things up, whether they be lies, stories, or anything else a person can possibly come up with.
6) The idea of having his real mom back, although he can't remember her. This isn't something he'd ever admit, however, and would be far more likely to just shrug and say "Who cares? Moms are overrated," if asked about the subject.
7) His brother, although the same applies as above
8) Leading groups, particularly into dangerous circumstances
9) Heights
10) Pretending.
11) Girls, although it's never seemed to be in the same way other boys his age do; he's never wanted a girlfriend.
dislikes
1) Michelle, is step mother. "Mom's a real pain in the ass, if you ask me. Better off without any moms at all, if they all act like her.
2) His father, particularly for marrying Michelle.
3) His actual mother, for "going away." It's stupid and childish, he knows, but he can't help himself for wishing he had a real mom instead of a step mother.
4) Reading. "Nothing's exciting once you put it on paper."
5) Glasses. "You just look stuck up. Stuck up and snotty."
6) Being told to do anything.
7) Requirements.
8) Restrictions.
9) Medicine. "It's nasty, disgusting stuff, and there's nobody who's ever gonna make me drink it."
other notes
None that I can think of, other than that he's a hell of a lot more scared of things than he thinks he is.
...literature*
book title Peter Pan
backstory Peter Pan is the boy who never grew up. He lived in Neverland with mermaids and pirates and fairies and Indians and had grand adventures that other children could only ever dream about, save the Lost Boys, who he lived with. Then one day he heard Wendy Darling telling her brothers stories about him, and he couldn't help but listen, as he was very interested in anything having to do with himself. After an incident with losing his shadow in Wendy's nursery, Peter persuades the Darling children to return to Neverland with him, where they have many grand adventures (and several near-death experiences), the most notable being Peter's defeat of the vile Captain Hook. Wendy eventually travels home, however, and brings with her all the Lost Boys from Neverland, save Peter, and so he remains the boy who can never grow up, no matter how much in his heart of hearts he may secretly believe he wants to.
...roleplayer*
name Scout
age 16
gender female
rp experience 5 years
how you found ouac I stumbled upon it one day while hopping through other ads.
rp sample
It was horrible, to listen to her speak, to know that he was doing all he could- all he knew how- and yet it was not enough. It would never be enough. He could hold her, and he could tell her it would be alright, and he could even peel back a little of himself for her to see, but in the end, what did that do really? How did he expect to help when his own gaze was just as miserable as hers? It was physically painful for Sirius to look at Cass as she admitted to her weakness- and yet, his gaze never wavered. He didn’t bore into her but his eyes remained locked on her face, a precarious balance between calculating and attempted comforting. But of course there was still the mirror, the bit of himself that showed through, allowing for her to see he didn’t have the answer. She hadn’t even asked a question, and yet he felt as if there was something he needed to say, something that should be told to her for the simple reason that they both had nothing. Because maybe if he convinced her, he could convince himself. And if that was done, then he could leave this place in peace, and maybe even forget. No. Of course, that would be asking too much. “And if I told you it was the same…?” for me. The last two words, although not spoken, lingered in the air with a sort of crushing realization, for Sirius at least. It wasn’t as if he knew who he was, either- but that was one thing he would never admit. If spoken as a question, at least there might be a chance she wouldn’t realize he meant it. Not that he would hope. “And I know you’re not broken. Or at least- you don’t have to be.” His voice was soft, perhaps softer than it had been all evening. He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, but perhaps it might do some good.
But there was nothing he could do, for either of them. All he had- all she had- was what he could give, what she was able to give in return. For now, it was enough. To be standing here with her in the cool stillness of the night, with only the stars and occasional whistling of the wind to accompany them. They were wonderfully alone, more so that perhaps Sirius had ever been before. And yet, they were infinitely closer than even the most passionate of lovers, because their solitude was shared. It was foreign for Sirius, to feel as if he didn’t need to be touching any more of her than the skin on her cheek, or the back of her hand. It was unusual, and it was welcomed. And as she lifted her gaze to look at him once again, Sirius found himself inching the corners of his lips upward, a smile so slight it could hardly be detected. Although perhaps it was that which made it so genuine. There was a hint of warmth in his eyes, steely grey as they were, that suggested he would do what he could, that he wanted to stay here, that maybe- just maybe- he enjoyed not feeling like there was something else he needed. And then there was the warmth which radiated through him- although from Cass’s magic or something else entirely it was uncertain- and comforted him, in a way he only hoped could pass through to her. Her fingertips pressed harder onto his chest, and there was a sharpness which came from the touch. Not painful, just…reminding- this was real, and he was feeling something, at the very least. And maybe it wasn’t what he wanted to be feeling, or even what he thought he needed, but at least it was something. And usually that was better than nothing, dangerous as it was.
She moved the skinn of her face across his jaw, and Sirius let out a sort of quiet, rumbling growl from deep within his throat. It was undoubtedly a pleased noise, much like the noise a dog makes when being itched in its favorite spot. He could feel the pulsing of his chest beneath her fingers, the way his heart somehow managed to beat evenly despite her touch. Could it be that he was used to this, being here with her? that maybe he even found it calming? Well, he already knew that was the case. The slowing of his heartbeat only succeeded in confirming what was already right in front of him. Until she spoke again, answering his questioning with a sort of- was that shame?- quiet look on her face. Going so far as to roll his eyes, Sirius shook his head slightly before meeting her gaze once more. Grey eyes rather authoritative, he spoke again “Yeah, it does matter. What if you’d gotten into trouble on your way up here? Or-“ he paused for a second, sighing. “Or what if it had been someone else who opened the door while you were all alone? You should know better than that, Cass.” As a member of the Order, she should be aware of the dangers of going out without a wand. And there were Death Eaters at school, walking the very same halls as they did-
The thought was caught short before he could say anything else as she titled her head into his wrist, brushing her lips against the skin. Sirius found himself opening and closing his mouth ever so slightly as he attempted to for a coherent scolding at her. Of course, there was no harm done. And so he closed his mouth again, lips pursed into a smile framed with a hint of gratitude. At least her being safe up here, it meant he was safe too. For now.
“No one wants to hurt,” he bit the inside of his bottom lip for a moment, the thought forming slowly. These next words he felt, had to be real, and thought out. Then, he knew he really meant them. “But I guess I’ll take it, if it’s the only way. I’d rather laugh and live, thinking it’s real for most of the time. And then, when it does hurt, ” he looked pointedly at her. “I know without a doubt that’s what it’s like, to feel something. Even though it’s painful- because it’s more familiar than happiness can ever hope to be,” And even though he wished with all his heart not to have to feel, he knew it was impossible. Hurt was the only thing he’d never questioned. Pain was pain, whether physical or emotional. No one could tell themselves they didn’t hurt, although deceiving others was usually simple enough.
Save for tonight. But there was no need for deceit- instinctual or not- as he moved his hand down her figure. There was not a word that escaped from his lips as he left his hand resting on her thigh, because he didn’t need to. Sirius didn’t open his mouth as Cass’s fingers made their way down his spine, because there was nothing to say. And even as she paused to speak again, his lips did not move. He listened, and his eyes softened, but he didn’t move and he didn’t speak. Even after she was done, he stood still for a moment, holding her and being held. Just maybe, if they were still for long enough, this could last forever. The thought was fleeting, for he knew it was impossible. The stars were beginning to fade into the night sky, although it still remained ink black. They had time, but it would end. Everything ended. Everything good, anyhow. “And I wouldn’t want to take this back. I’m glad to have seen you,” he whispered, moving his hand upwards and toward her face. The fingers hovered there for a minute, just in front of the hair, although it did not obstruct her eyes. Then, slowly, delicately, he pushed the piece back, tucking it behind her ear without once breaking their stare. “Maybe not whole, but better off,” the words were a whisper, and they came out in a nearly hoarse way. It was raw, and it was real, when he spoke. “You’re right. You can’t…if you’re alone.” It wasn’t an offer. He didn’t think so, anyway. “But there are some things worth dying for.”
That much he knew for certain.
