Post by LUCAS CHANCE ¡ on Mar 29, 2009 18:18:30 GMT -5
SOMEBODY TOLD ME ,
LUCAS SECH CHANCE
LUCAS SECH CHANCE
hello, my name is YUKI, but here I play LUCAS CHANCE, a TWENTY YEAR OLD BOY, with a few screws loose. But you can just call me LUKIE-OOKY OR GHOUL, now that we're acquainted. So you've heard of me? That's right, I'm with the LILACS, so don't forget. I'm here in this lovely hell hole called the Garden's since I have a few problems. What problems? Well, I'm SERIAL KILLER CANNIBAL. All in all, I'm just plain crazy. I came from a lovely place called PENNSYLVANIA, I'm sure you've heard of it? Yeah, well, I know I'm cute. People say I look just like JAYY VON MONROE, and I agree. But I like BOYS&&GIRLS. And no, it's a common misconception, but I wasn't born on friday the thirteenth, with the luck I have. Actually, it was JUNE TENTH. Shocking, right? No, not really. Want to here something shocking, well, I'LL PROLLY KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. Anyways, let's continue.
SOMEBODY TOLD ME
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this.
Lucas is the type of kid who's just normally down right mean. By nature, he used to be a sweet, loving kid, but well, bad things happen. And they create bad people. And this is Lucas. He's the type to steal candy from babies and spend all day shut in his room, well, rather locked in. He does things that most people don't realize, that are nice. He'll put out the pyro's fires if they get too dangerous for the other patients under the disguise of "hey, mofo, it's too hot in here." and dump water on the blaze. He's the type of person who will quietly do good deeds, like keep others from hurting themselves accidentally, hurting others, or destroying themselves.
The few who do notice it, such as his therapist, tell him that it's a little bit of the old Lucas peeking out, asking for help. Lucas just claims he does it for himself, and completely self-serving, selfish reasons, but few believe him. He's often very dazed, sometimes disorientated and bumps into walls, or falls over, but he tries not to show it. Sort of those "I meant to do something totally stupid" types, inheriting his late brother's pride and sometimes dumb ego. He's never spoken much about his brother, just about his past. And only to his therapist. For some reason, he trusts him. Go figure.
Mostly he'll talk in his sleep. He has a really pretty singing voice, but no one knows that. And considering he's "affectionately" known as Ghoul, most wouldn't believe him if he told them. Despite his violence, everyone knows Lucas is intelligent, especially when he recites verses of poetry, his own and famous, while epically drugged. But don't bother telling him that, he won't believe you. He eats very little, as he always has, but is never picky about food. People wonder what his actual eye color is, but no one ever knows. But, he has never seen his reflection in a mirror, growing up on the streets, and being made to wear contacts, so who knows...
they could be blue.
SOMEBODY TOLD ME
Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game
Lucas's history was not a happy one, nor a boring one. Raised in poverty, this boy grew up loving everything. Everything from a penny found on the ground to a pastry given to him by a rather wizened but kind old baker. Every meal, though few, tasted rich and sweet. From the time he was three, his brother raised him, a nineteen year old boy with no job and no means of caring for his sibling. But he did anyways, as their parents had disappeared one cold winter and had never come back. Without income to pay rent, they were soon cast out onto the street, and Lucas doesn't remmeber much except the streets, and his brother's face. If you told him he never had any parents at all, he might just believe you. Lucas was protected from bad things all of his life. He knew nothing of going hungry, his brother always found a way to pull through, to get enough just to scrape by, whether by doing odd jobs for close to nothing, or even stealing when the nights were cold and there was no work to be found. Seldomly, people would take in the two brothers, but most of the time park benches were just as good as anything. People often asked Lucas's older brother, Jonathon, why he didn't give up little luke to an orphanage, to which in response Jon would just turn and walk away, shaking his head, holding Lucas in his arms. He never had any shoes, really, they were a commodity that was never offered to the brothers, and they could never find shoes that would fit him. They were all either so tight they cut off his circulation or so big they caused blisters on his already callused feet. Lucas was still little, four or five around this time, and light enough that Jon would always carry him in his arms or on his shoulders, piggy-back style, because where they lived was often either snow or mud covered. Jon always worried about Lucas catching diseases, knowing from when they were young he had a poor immune system.
It was around his six birthday that Lucas noticed how thin and haggard his older brother was. Lucas was still plump with baby-fat, but it wasn't hard to spot how every day his brother seemed weaker, pale and blue-lipped from the cold. He had to take breaks carrying Lucas, and could often no longer do the odd jobs he'd been doing most of their life, like the majority of heavy labor. Jonathon was a smart boy, now in his twenties, and could still manage inventory and such, but Lucas began to watch him more closely. He noticed that when they got food, maybe one, twice a week, Jonathon split the portions inequally, giving a much larger size of whatever they were eating to Lucas. It wasn't more than a few months later that the younger brother took notice of the older brother's failing health. Lucas often demanded, cried and pleaded that Jon eat more, that he go to the hospital, that he let Lucas work, anything to help his brother. He wouldn't allow him to carry Luke anymore, and often begged for change from pedestrian's when Jon was off working. Jon would often get violently angry when he discovered Lucas panhandling, sometimes beating him, but Lucas knew his brother's strong morales about being independent and not owing people things. Lucas really didn't care though, as long as it was a way to provide that little bit of extra food or medicine for the ailing Jon. It happened around his ninth birthday. It had been two years, and he'd gotten enough change to buy some over the counter medicine for Jonathon. Jon had gotten horribly ill around Lucas's eigth year, sometimes losing conciousness and throwing up whatever precious little he had eaten that day. Lucas would find him passed out, face first in the snow, and try horribly to nurse him back to health. Since then Jon had gotten better, still gaunt with a face like a skull, but not puking up blood.
Around three or four months after he turned nine, he was panhandling when three or four thugs surronded him, asking him for what was in the little styrofoam cup he had collected that day. It had been the most money he'd collected in months, and he wasn't about to give it up. Jon was in desperate need of pain medication, barely able to move without groaning in pain, and Lucas knew his brother needed the meds more than anything. He could take a beating, but he wasn't give up the few dollars he'd made. It had been the first blow, a swift kick to the stomach that had his eyes bulging out of his head, and he was on the floor. He looked up into the face of his attacker, blue eyes and black hair, before Jonathon had come barreling into the stranger with what little strength he had left. Lucas cried out as one of the others grabbed up his brother and threw him through a glass display window. The blue eyed monster, flicking out a switchblade, dove in after Jonathon. Lucas shot up and followed them, the other two standing off. They knew not to interfere with a pissed off boss. It was image that would never erase itself from his eyes. To this day he sees it in his nightmares, the hulk of the inhuman thug kneeling over his coughing, bleeding brother. Digging the blade right into Jonathon's stomach and twisting, splitting open his belly like a grin. Lucas shrieked as the man laughed, Jonathon whimpering in pain, trying half-heartedly to hold in his intestines with one glass-imbeded hand. With another flick of the stranger's wrist, the blade bit deep into Jonathon's neck, a sick wet ripping sound cutting the crisp night, ending Lucas's only reason to live. Lucas had once loved everything. His brother, the kind people on the street. He knew not what was starvation or hate. But that one night broke that all apart for him, broke everything, broke his sanity and well-being. The beloved streets looked like hell's gaping mow, the white glistening snow looking like nothing but bitter cold seeping into his bones. He died with his brother that night, and something in Lucas's nine-year old features had the blue-eyed man fleeing. He never saw the thug again, but in a way he sees that face, that laugh, in every throat he ever slit.
By the time he was twelve, he'd been arrested and put into the Garden's. He was known in the paper's as the kiddie killer, a pre-teen serial killer who had taken down nearly fifteen victims, presumably by himself, and eaten portions of them. Each victim was black haired and blue eyed, and the killer was described as "apathetic." He never allowed himself time to mourn for his brother, but instead since that night looked for his killer. But every time he saw those similar features, those memories replayed and each victim looked like that thug. When he was caught, they showed him black and white photos of each of his victims. He didn't recognize a single one. But he did remember the taste. In the four years since he's been held in the Garden's, he's been considered a Lilac, too feared by even the Violets to be taken in. He's normally kept in the isolation rooms, drugged up so severely he can't tell you his name. But inside he knows everything that's going on. He doesn't fight the medication, happier to be subjected by blurs of memory instead of the vivid replaying of his past every second he's sober. If you give him a strong enough reason, or pique his interest, he's actually been known to be able to override the pills and come back to reality. He's made to wear special white-contacts in order to not be able to distinguish people he comes into contact with's eye color. He's fine if you have either blue eyes OR black hair, but both together and he'll fly into a rage. And someone will die. And most likely be eaten. But with the special contacts, he just sees faint hues and sharp outlines. Exactly like perfect vision, just slightly black-and-white.
SOMEBODY TOLD ME
You had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfriend that I had
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this.
Lucas is the type of kid who's just normally down right mean. By nature, he used to be a sweet, loving kid, but well, bad things happen. And they create bad people. And this is Lucas. He's the type to steal candy from babies and spend all day shut in his room, well, rather locked in. He does things that most people don't realize, that are nice. He'll put out the pyro's fires if they get too dangerous for the other patients under the disguise of "hey, mofo, it's too hot in here." and dump water on the blaze. He's the type of person who will quietly do good deeds, like keep others from hurting themselves accidentally, hurting others, or destroying themselves.
The few who do notice it, such as his therapist, tell him that it's a little bit of the old Lucas peeking out, asking for help. Lucas just claims he does it for himself, and completely self-serving, selfish reasons, but few believe him. He's often very dazed, sometimes disorientated and bumps into walls, or falls over, but he tries not to show it. Sort of those "I meant to do something totally stupid" types, inheriting his late brother's pride and sometimes dumb ego. He's never spoken much about his brother, just about his past. And only to his therapist. For some reason, he trusts him. Go figure.
Mostly he'll talk in his sleep. He has a really pretty singing voice, but no one knows that. And considering he's "affectionately" known as Ghoul, most wouldn't believe him if he told them. Despite his violence, everyone knows Lucas is intelligent, especially when he recites verses of poetry, his own and famous, while epically drugged. But don't bother telling him that, he won't believe you. He eats very little, as he always has, but is never picky about food. People wonder what his actual eye color is, but no one ever knows. But, he has never seen his reflection in a mirror, growing up on the streets, and being made to wear contacts, so who knows...
they could be blue.
SOMEBODY TOLD ME
Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game
Lucas's history was not a happy one, nor a boring one. Raised in poverty, this boy grew up loving everything. Everything from a penny found on the ground to a pastry given to him by a rather wizened but kind old baker. Every meal, though few, tasted rich and sweet. From the time he was three, his brother raised him, a nineteen year old boy with no job and no means of caring for his sibling. But he did anyways, as their parents had disappeared one cold winter and had never come back. Without income to pay rent, they were soon cast out onto the street, and Lucas doesn't remmeber much except the streets, and his brother's face. If you told him he never had any parents at all, he might just believe you. Lucas was protected from bad things all of his life. He knew nothing of going hungry, his brother always found a way to pull through, to get enough just to scrape by, whether by doing odd jobs for close to nothing, or even stealing when the nights were cold and there was no work to be found. Seldomly, people would take in the two brothers, but most of the time park benches were just as good as anything. People often asked Lucas's older brother, Jonathon, why he didn't give up little luke to an orphanage, to which in response Jon would just turn and walk away, shaking his head, holding Lucas in his arms. He never had any shoes, really, they were a commodity that was never offered to the brothers, and they could never find shoes that would fit him. They were all either so tight they cut off his circulation or so big they caused blisters on his already callused feet. Lucas was still little, four or five around this time, and light enough that Jon would always carry him in his arms or on his shoulders, piggy-back style, because where they lived was often either snow or mud covered. Jon always worried about Lucas catching diseases, knowing from when they were young he had a poor immune system.
It was around his six birthday that Lucas noticed how thin and haggard his older brother was. Lucas was still plump with baby-fat, but it wasn't hard to spot how every day his brother seemed weaker, pale and blue-lipped from the cold. He had to take breaks carrying Lucas, and could often no longer do the odd jobs he'd been doing most of their life, like the majority of heavy labor. Jonathon was a smart boy, now in his twenties, and could still manage inventory and such, but Lucas began to watch him more closely. He noticed that when they got food, maybe one, twice a week, Jonathon split the portions inequally, giving a much larger size of whatever they were eating to Lucas. It wasn't more than a few months later that the younger brother took notice of the older brother's failing health. Lucas often demanded, cried and pleaded that Jon eat more, that he go to the hospital, that he let Lucas work, anything to help his brother. He wouldn't allow him to carry Luke anymore, and often begged for change from pedestrian's when Jon was off working. Jon would often get violently angry when he discovered Lucas panhandling, sometimes beating him, but Lucas knew his brother's strong morales about being independent and not owing people things. Lucas really didn't care though, as long as it was a way to provide that little bit of extra food or medicine for the ailing Jon. It happened around his ninth birthday. It had been two years, and he'd gotten enough change to buy some over the counter medicine for Jonathon. Jon had gotten horribly ill around Lucas's eigth year, sometimes losing conciousness and throwing up whatever precious little he had eaten that day. Lucas would find him passed out, face first in the snow, and try horribly to nurse him back to health. Since then Jon had gotten better, still gaunt with a face like a skull, but not puking up blood.
Around three or four months after he turned nine, he was panhandling when three or four thugs surronded him, asking him for what was in the little styrofoam cup he had collected that day. It had been the most money he'd collected in months, and he wasn't about to give it up. Jon was in desperate need of pain medication, barely able to move without groaning in pain, and Lucas knew his brother needed the meds more than anything. He could take a beating, but he wasn't give up the few dollars he'd made. It had been the first blow, a swift kick to the stomach that had his eyes bulging out of his head, and he was on the floor. He looked up into the face of his attacker, blue eyes and black hair, before Jonathon had come barreling into the stranger with what little strength he had left. Lucas cried out as one of the others grabbed up his brother and threw him through a glass display window. The blue eyed monster, flicking out a switchblade, dove in after Jonathon. Lucas shot up and followed them, the other two standing off. They knew not to interfere with a pissed off boss. It was image that would never erase itself from his eyes. To this day he sees it in his nightmares, the hulk of the inhuman thug kneeling over his coughing, bleeding brother. Digging the blade right into Jonathon's stomach and twisting, splitting open his belly like a grin. Lucas shrieked as the man laughed, Jonathon whimpering in pain, trying half-heartedly to hold in his intestines with one glass-imbeded hand. With another flick of the stranger's wrist, the blade bit deep into Jonathon's neck, a sick wet ripping sound cutting the crisp night, ending Lucas's only reason to live. Lucas had once loved everything. His brother, the kind people on the street. He knew not what was starvation or hate. But that one night broke that all apart for him, broke everything, broke his sanity and well-being. The beloved streets looked like hell's gaping mow, the white glistening snow looking like nothing but bitter cold seeping into his bones. He died with his brother that night, and something in Lucas's nine-year old features had the blue-eyed man fleeing. He never saw the thug again, but in a way he sees that face, that laugh, in every throat he ever slit.
By the time he was twelve, he'd been arrested and put into the Garden's. He was known in the paper's as the kiddie killer, a pre-teen serial killer who had taken down nearly fifteen victims, presumably by himself, and eaten portions of them. Each victim was black haired and blue eyed, and the killer was described as "apathetic." He never allowed himself time to mourn for his brother, but instead since that night looked for his killer. But every time he saw those similar features, those memories replayed and each victim looked like that thug. When he was caught, they showed him black and white photos of each of his victims. He didn't recognize a single one. But he did remember the taste. In the four years since he's been held in the Garden's, he's been considered a Lilac, too feared by even the Violets to be taken in. He's normally kept in the isolation rooms, drugged up so severely he can't tell you his name. But inside he knows everything that's going on. He doesn't fight the medication, happier to be subjected by blurs of memory instead of the vivid replaying of his past every second he's sober. If you give him a strong enough reason, or pique his interest, he's actually been known to be able to override the pills and come back to reality. He's made to wear special white-contacts in order to not be able to distinguish people he comes into contact with's eye color. He's fine if you have either blue eyes OR black hair, but both together and he'll fly into a rage. And someone will die. And most likely be eaten. But with the special contacts, he just sees faint hues and sharp outlines. Exactly like perfect vision, just slightly black-and-white.
SOMEBODY TOLD ME
You had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfriend that I had
As I've said already, my name is YUKI. I'm a GIRLIE, and I can totally kick some ass in roleplaying. I mean, I have SIX years under my belt, but you didn't think about that, did you? I also play ZANE ROBERTS. I'm here because of MYSELF, and also because I LOVE MYSELF. But who doesn't? Below is my roleplay sample, which I'll keep in quotes because I'm a good little patient.-AMAZING ROLEPLAY SAMPLE-
