Name: William Peter Carter
Nickname: Will
Age: 19
Nationality: American.
Height: 5 foot 5
Weight: This can fluctuate, but usually between 90 and 100 pounds dependent on where in his life you discover him.
S/O: Straight, with a real thing for punk and tough girls. He likes anyone whom shows him love though.
History: To say William had been dealt a bad hand in life would be rather unjust. He considers himself to be deserving of the pain and suffering he goes through, fearing that anything he does is wrong and deserves to have his ass kicked for it all. This is despite the fact William could never hurt a fly (Indeed, he has never hit a person. In fact, his worst behavior was stealing an apple from someone's tree when he was starving.) and just needs love and affection to make him realize all of this.
His father and mother are both heavy drug users, and as a result William never really had a good childhood. He grew up in poverty, wearing raggy and threadbare clothing which was often dirty or torn up. As he got older he began to take care of himself, patching his clothes up and washing them in a lake not far from the trailer park where he lived in what people would call squalor.
At the age of 16, he moved to a smaller high school where he ended up being bullied mercilessly. Used to such behavior, William never stood up for himself and allowed it to happen. The young man saw it as easier than defending himself, which resulted in him being used as a verbal and physical punching bag from both those who wanted to seem tough and those who wanted to vent anger out on a nice easy target.
Currently <age>, Will is desperate to move to somewhere safe and away from his abusive father and neglectful mother. He sadly only has around $100 saved up, which is a mixture of money he's found on the floor around places and a little earnt from his job at a Walmart. His parents often steal his money, so what he has saved is hidden away in his locker at work.
Will suffers from a number of physical issues, including malnutrition and weaker bones. He often has sore and blistered feet, and struggles in cold weather as he doesn't have much ability to keep warm. Though he is rather good at looking after himself, he struggles with affording medical essentials so doesn't currently have the type of hearing aids that would allow him to have a slightly better "quality of life" as some might deem it. He doesn't let this fully impact him, as he can sign and lipread. He is more fluent in ASL than he is in BSL as he's not actually met anyone who signs predominantly in the latter yet.
Despite all this, William is a sweetheart who has love and affection to give out to the right person or people. He doesn’t really know who the right person is of course, but he knows when he discovers them he will do anything to make them happy and hopes they will like him back.
He’s also a surprisingly talented artist and an excellent photographer. With little to do at home due to a lack of funds and parental caring, he took to taking scraps of paper home from school to draw on with the few crayons and pencils he owned. From scrawls and doodles, he began to draw beautiful and detailed pieces of work which he keeps in his locker at school. After saving up to move out, he currently lives in a small trailer at a park. Though he rarely ever spends money on himself, he did afford himself the luxury of a sketchbook and pencils so that he could keep honing his skills. He owns an old film camera which he rescued from a closing down store, along with plenty of film though he is running low on this.
His dream car is a 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, preferably in blue or a 1950 Chevy 3100 pick up. He knows it'll probably never happen, but he still dreams of the day!
♤His Hometown♤:
I envisioned it being a riverside town that is quite close to a heavily wooded area, with the town once having a heavy connection to the Logging industry.
This failed when the local railway link was shut down, with the nearest source of transport being by the river through use of tugboats and barges. This proved too expensive, and with the local roads being dangerous for trucks there was no way to maintain what had built the town.
Hence the town has gone from being a busy, bustling industrious place to a small and rather rundown town with a population of less than 1,000. The only big-name company in the town is a Walmart which succeeds based on having ripped apart the smaller mom and pop stores.
There is an elementary school, which is combined with the middle school. No college of any kind there, with the biggest employer ironically being the Unemployment centre in the town's north end.
♡Writing Sample♡
William glanced down at the rusted, twisted railroad tracks beneath his feet, stepping carefully from sleeper to sleeper in order to follow the lay of the old railroad line. The odd misstep made him slip on the damp moss beneath his aching feet, though the light young man regained his footing rather quickly.
The line curved to follow the hillside, as it headed deeper into the forest where less sunlight tended to shine through and things were a little darker, to say the least. That aside, the feeling of unwanted gloom and dreary dampness wasn't helped by the mist settling in the evening haze as the temperature began to plummet somewhat dramatically. Will's breath was hanging on the air in clouds, the thin young man shivering as he made his way along.
Eventually, he came across an old, rusty and clearly neglected trestle bridge, which seemed to have fallen victim to the elements more than the old railway line that lead up to it had done. Rails were rusted, standing out like copper and brown lines atop the rotting and missing wooden planks that had once provided a firm base. Some were lost to the river below, which would often become a raging torrent in storms, threatening to wash the entire bridge downstream if Mother Nature so desired it.
More cautious steps were taken here, as Will sidestepped along to avoid some of the larger gaps in the middle. He even seemed to cling to the far left of the bridge, as though he knew this was the best way to go. He should have done, as he walked it often enough. Indeed, only his own footsteps were evident, as though proving to the world he was the only person brave or stupid enough to cross a rotting old railroad bridge for whatever lay on the other side. On occasion he did see other footsteps, although he had no clue whom they belonged to.
Once across, the teenager found the going much easier. He walked for roughly 30 or 40 minutes, pushing through brambles and low-hanging branches, before stepping over rabbit holes and scrambling across a stream until he finally found what he was looking for.
An old, rotting and evidently disused farmhouse. The building had been left for the elements and nature to claim back, and it seemed as though that was the plan of the world. Holes in the roof let in rain and snow during the less desirable times of the year and provided little shade in the hot summers. Nearby sat an old pickup truck, a rusting and discarded hulk with missing parts and a shattered windscreen. Hornets had made a nest in the truck the previous summer, something Will found out with less than pleasant results!
Pushing open the door with an ominous creaking noise and taking care to step over the missing floorboards, William carefully padded over to a dark red sleeping bag, which he knelt down beside and unzipped. Pulling out a first aid kit, he retrieved the painkillers from within. Taking out two, he swallowed them without water before sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, his bruised and battered body aching like all hell had broken loose. And it had at home.
Hence why he came here, where nobody could hurt him. Where he could be alone. Stripping off, he gazed at his reflection in the dusty mirror. His almost ghostly pale skin was pulled tight over his malnourished body, ribs apparent as all hell. He was almost skeletal in build, his body black and blue beneath his discarded clothing with specks of unblemished skin peeking through like a river on a map. Cuts were fresh, scars deep and lining his body like some horrific clay sculpture that had been tampered with.
Pulling out wipes, he silently began dabbling away at the blood, hissing in pain. His footsteps were slow as he moved to the sink, filling it with cold water out of a large bottle. Though the water he used was thankfully from a clean stream, it was still icy cold and unpleasant to wash with. Using what little soap he had to wipe away dirt and grime, he flinched more so as he ran over bruises on his legs and elbows before washing under his arms, cleaning his groin and feet.
Once he had dressed once more, William took a deep breath. He started to walk out of the farmhouse and towards the west, a way he had never really travelled before. Brambles and low-hanging branches cut at his legs and smacked against him, but the blonde continued to fight through, regardless.
For a good twenty minutes he carried on, even as a crack of thunder boomed and dark clouds rolled in overhead quicker than one might have anticipated. Rain fell, slowly at first, then almost in relentless sheets as if out of nowhere. Drenched through, and extremely cold, wet and muddy, the blonde boy continued on his path, regardless. He needed to explore, to focus on something new.
Eventually he came back to his hometown, having taken a different path out of the woods, of course. Here, he was in the north end of town and near the unemployment centre. Faint streetlights barely broke the dark gloom, but a yellow glow about a block away captured his eyes.
The light led him to a magnificent-looking church, the doors barely open. Discarded paper cups and bowls littered the grounds, and Will realised it must have been the night of the soup kitchen and the food bank.
Hesitating, the malnourished young man stepped inside the church. Water dropped off him at an alarming rate, splashing on the ground. He was so soaked his socks and shoes seemed to squelch as he walked, light steps seeming to echo heavily in the apparently empty church. Tired and weary eyes scanned the lavishly decorated place of worship, from the wooden pews with plush seating, to the scrubbed and polished golden decorations that seemed out of place against the darkened wood of the preacher’s lectern.
He made his way towards what he thought was an altar (Technically he was correct, though some people might have felt it necessary to correct him.), catching sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He guessed she was a similar age to him; maybe a few months or so older?
But what he couldn't explain, not guess, was the strange heat in his stomach at seeing her and the quickening beat of his heart inside his chest. He was used to his heart beating quickly, but that was always fear or pain. This was different. This seemed to be accompanied by a good feeling!
"E... Excuse me? Is there any soup or bread left?" Will was so frightened sounding and looked ready to faint from hunger. Blood stained his jeans from the cuts he sustained from the brambles, the malnourished blonde looking kinda sad and pathetic in a sort of.. lost puppy way.
Nickname: Will
Age: 19
Nationality: American.
Height: 5 foot 5
Weight: This can fluctuate, but usually between 90 and 100 pounds dependent on where in his life you discover him.
S/O: Straight, with a real thing for punk and tough girls. He likes anyone whom shows him love though.
History: To say William had been dealt a bad hand in life would be rather unjust. He considers himself to be deserving of the pain and suffering he goes through, fearing that anything he does is wrong and deserves to have his ass kicked for it all. This is despite the fact William could never hurt a fly (Indeed, he has never hit a person. In fact, his worst behavior was stealing an apple from someone's tree when he was starving.) and just needs love and affection to make him realize all of this.
His father and mother are both heavy drug users, and as a result William never really had a good childhood. He grew up in poverty, wearing raggy and threadbare clothing which was often dirty or torn up. As he got older he began to take care of himself, patching his clothes up and washing them in a lake not far from the trailer park where he lived in what people would call squalor.
At the age of 16, he moved to a smaller high school where he ended up being bullied mercilessly. Used to such behavior, William never stood up for himself and allowed it to happen. The young man saw it as easier than defending himself, which resulted in him being used as a verbal and physical punching bag from both those who wanted to seem tough and those who wanted to vent anger out on a nice easy target.
Currently <age>, Will is desperate to move to somewhere safe and away from his abusive father and neglectful mother. He sadly only has around $100 saved up, which is a mixture of money he's found on the floor around places and a little earnt from his job at a Walmart. His parents often steal his money, so what he has saved is hidden away in his locker at work.
Will suffers from a number of physical issues, including malnutrition and weaker bones. He often has sore and blistered feet, and struggles in cold weather as he doesn't have much ability to keep warm. Though he is rather good at looking after himself, he struggles with affording medical essentials so doesn't currently have the type of hearing aids that would allow him to have a slightly better "quality of life" as some might deem it. He doesn't let this fully impact him, as he can sign and lipread. He is more fluent in ASL than he is in BSL as he's not actually met anyone who signs predominantly in the latter yet.
Despite all this, William is a sweetheart who has love and affection to give out to the right person or people. He doesn’t really know who the right person is of course, but he knows when he discovers them he will do anything to make them happy and hopes they will like him back.
He’s also a surprisingly talented artist and an excellent photographer. With little to do at home due to a lack of funds and parental caring, he took to taking scraps of paper home from school to draw on with the few crayons and pencils he owned. From scrawls and doodles, he began to draw beautiful and detailed pieces of work which he keeps in his locker at school. After saving up to move out, he currently lives in a small trailer at a park. Though he rarely ever spends money on himself, he did afford himself the luxury of a sketchbook and pencils so that he could keep honing his skills. He owns an old film camera which he rescued from a closing down store, along with plenty of film though he is running low on this.
His dream car is a 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, preferably in blue or a 1950 Chevy 3100 pick up. He knows it'll probably never happen, but he still dreams of the day!
♤His Hometown♤:
I envisioned it being a riverside town that is quite close to a heavily wooded area, with the town once having a heavy connection to the Logging industry.
This failed when the local railway link was shut down, with the nearest source of transport being by the river through use of tugboats and barges. This proved too expensive, and with the local roads being dangerous for trucks there was no way to maintain what had built the town.
Hence the town has gone from being a busy, bustling industrious place to a small and rather rundown town with a population of less than 1,000. The only big-name company in the town is a Walmart which succeeds based on having ripped apart the smaller mom and pop stores.
There is an elementary school, which is combined with the middle school. No college of any kind there, with the biggest employer ironically being the Unemployment centre in the town's north end.
♡Writing Sample♡
William glanced down at the rusted, twisted railroad tracks beneath his feet, stepping carefully from sleeper to sleeper in order to follow the lay of the old railroad line. The odd misstep made him slip on the damp moss beneath his aching feet, though the light young man regained his footing rather quickly.
The line curved to follow the hillside, as it headed deeper into the forest where less sunlight tended to shine through and things were a little darker, to say the least. That aside, the feeling of unwanted gloom and dreary dampness wasn't helped by the mist settling in the evening haze as the temperature began to plummet somewhat dramatically. Will's breath was hanging on the air in clouds, the thin young man shivering as he made his way along.
Eventually, he came across an old, rusty and clearly neglected trestle bridge, which seemed to have fallen victim to the elements more than the old railway line that lead up to it had done. Rails were rusted, standing out like copper and brown lines atop the rotting and missing wooden planks that had once provided a firm base. Some were lost to the river below, which would often become a raging torrent in storms, threatening to wash the entire bridge downstream if Mother Nature so desired it.
More cautious steps were taken here, as Will sidestepped along to avoid some of the larger gaps in the middle. He even seemed to cling to the far left of the bridge, as though he knew this was the best way to go. He should have done, as he walked it often enough. Indeed, only his own footsteps were evident, as though proving to the world he was the only person brave or stupid enough to cross a rotting old railroad bridge for whatever lay on the other side. On occasion he did see other footsteps, although he had no clue whom they belonged to.
Once across, the teenager found the going much easier. He walked for roughly 30 or 40 minutes, pushing through brambles and low-hanging branches, before stepping over rabbit holes and scrambling across a stream until he finally found what he was looking for.
An old, rotting and evidently disused farmhouse. The building had been left for the elements and nature to claim back, and it seemed as though that was the plan of the world. Holes in the roof let in rain and snow during the less desirable times of the year and provided little shade in the hot summers. Nearby sat an old pickup truck, a rusting and discarded hulk with missing parts and a shattered windscreen. Hornets had made a nest in the truck the previous summer, something Will found out with less than pleasant results!
Pushing open the door with an ominous creaking noise and taking care to step over the missing floorboards, William carefully padded over to a dark red sleeping bag, which he knelt down beside and unzipped. Pulling out a first aid kit, he retrieved the painkillers from within. Taking out two, he swallowed them without water before sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, his bruised and battered body aching like all hell had broken loose. And it had at home.
Hence why he came here, where nobody could hurt him. Where he could be alone. Stripping off, he gazed at his reflection in the dusty mirror. His almost ghostly pale skin was pulled tight over his malnourished body, ribs apparent as all hell. He was almost skeletal in build, his body black and blue beneath his discarded clothing with specks of unblemished skin peeking through like a river on a map. Cuts were fresh, scars deep and lining his body like some horrific clay sculpture that had been tampered with.
Pulling out wipes, he silently began dabbling away at the blood, hissing in pain. His footsteps were slow as he moved to the sink, filling it with cold water out of a large bottle. Though the water he used was thankfully from a clean stream, it was still icy cold and unpleasant to wash with. Using what little soap he had to wipe away dirt and grime, he flinched more so as he ran over bruises on his legs and elbows before washing under his arms, cleaning his groin and feet.
Once he had dressed once more, William took a deep breath. He started to walk out of the farmhouse and towards the west, a way he had never really travelled before. Brambles and low-hanging branches cut at his legs and smacked against him, but the blonde continued to fight through, regardless.
For a good twenty minutes he carried on, even as a crack of thunder boomed and dark clouds rolled in overhead quicker than one might have anticipated. Rain fell, slowly at first, then almost in relentless sheets as if out of nowhere. Drenched through, and extremely cold, wet and muddy, the blonde boy continued on his path, regardless. He needed to explore, to focus on something new.
Eventually he came back to his hometown, having taken a different path out of the woods, of course. Here, he was in the north end of town and near the unemployment centre. Faint streetlights barely broke the dark gloom, but a yellow glow about a block away captured his eyes.
The light led him to a magnificent-looking church, the doors barely open. Discarded paper cups and bowls littered the grounds, and Will realised it must have been the night of the soup kitchen and the food bank.
Hesitating, the malnourished young man stepped inside the church. Water dropped off him at an alarming rate, splashing on the ground. He was so soaked his socks and shoes seemed to squelch as he walked, light steps seeming to echo heavily in the apparently empty church. Tired and weary eyes scanned the lavishly decorated place of worship, from the wooden pews with plush seating, to the scrubbed and polished golden decorations that seemed out of place against the darkened wood of the preacher’s lectern.
He made his way towards what he thought was an altar (Technically he was correct, though some people might have felt it necessary to correct him.), catching sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He guessed she was a similar age to him; maybe a few months or so older?
But what he couldn't explain, not guess, was the strange heat in his stomach at seeing her and the quickening beat of his heart inside his chest. He was used to his heart beating quickly, but that was always fear or pain. This was different. This seemed to be accompanied by a good feeling!
"E... Excuse me? Is there any soup or bread left?" Will was so frightened sounding and looked ready to faint from hunger. Blood stained his jeans from the cuts he sustained from the brambles, the malnourished blonde looking kinda sad and pathetic in a sort of.. lost puppy way.