Okay, so I'm looking for a best friend/caregiver for my character. This can be only be platonic!
I'm looking to focus on the concept of my character having a little space, with your character being his best friend with a motherly nature towards him.
We can discuss plots together, and though I've attached a starter, it doesn't need to be used at all as it describes her as being a punky type.
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Tap. Tap. Tap.
Lightly knocking on the door of his best friend's bedroom, William entered after a moment or so. Shutting it behind him, he glanced at the young woman occupying the room, her bare back turned to him. A small smile graced his lips as he observed the various tattoos that covered her skin, seeing his name on the back of her right shoulder among a few Tattoos of his own design. He was used to walking in on her in various states of undress, and both were perfectly comfortable like this around each other. She had treated enough of his injuries to see him in not much more than boxers or a towel some days, and she just didn't really care.
There was the slight lingering of cigarette smoke and her deodorant in the air, but that never bothered him. It was part of the sensory comforts he linked to her, and was indeed how the leather jacket he'd “borrowed” from her smelt.
He had let himself into her house, having a spare key. It was a gift from her for his 18th birthday (One of many), so that he could come and see his best friend whenever he pleased. Which was quite often, to the point where it would have been easier for him to move in were circumstances better
"C..can I stay the night please?" He spoke in his timid manner, eyes scanning the room. Her bedroom was so different to his room at home, from being considerably larger to the band posters, the records on the wall and the general disorder and lack of organisation to it. Her room reassembled a bomb site according to her parents, with clothing strewn everywhere, empty energy drink cans littering her desk and bedside table with a couple of full ashtrays in various places.
Despite this, he liked being here. It always made him feel safe and sound, both knowing his parents had no ability to get into her home let alone her room, and knowing that she'd protect him. After all, her arms were like castle walls. Protecting him from the outside world, and always tight around his smaller frame.
In his hands, he held two things. His left hand had his worn and loved sketchbook in it, something he was barely ever seen without. It was like a sort of... well, comfort blanket for lack of a better word. His art was important to him, ranking just underneath his best friend in his world. Her, his sketchbook, food. Those were his three keys to living, so he thought.
In his right hand was an ice cold can of her favourite drink, something he'd picked up from the grocery store on his way to see her. He knew she loved this drink, so would always bring her one. His steps were cautious as he walked towards her, eyes flickering up to meet her face as she stood up. She practically towered over him at her full height, compared to his mere 5 foot 5 inches.
Often, he would relax on seeing her face. But tonight, he was tense as he stood there. He was on edge, tired, and sore as hell. He just couldn’t relax in the slightest, tears brimming in his eyes as he made eye contact with her. He looked away, cheeks darkening and turning a deep red at the shame of starting to cry. But it wasn’t hard to see why. Bruising and swelling around his left eye showed he was struggling with the pain and discomfort of a black eye, among other cuts and bruises from a recent… altercation with his father. It wasn’t two-sided, but rather the smaller, blonde-haired boy being on the receiving end of it all.
◇◇◇◇
Name: William Peter Carter
Nickname: Will
Age: 18
Nationality: American.
Height: 5 foot 5
Weight: This can fluctuate, but usually between 90 and 100 pounds depending 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!
I'm looking to focus on the concept of my character having a little space, with your character being his best friend with a motherly nature towards him.
We can discuss plots together, and though I've attached a starter, it doesn't need to be used at all as it describes her as being a punky type.
◇◇◇◇
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Lightly knocking on the door of his best friend's bedroom, William entered after a moment or so. Shutting it behind him, he glanced at the young woman occupying the room, her bare back turned to him. A small smile graced his lips as he observed the various tattoos that covered her skin, seeing his name on the back of her right shoulder among a few Tattoos of his own design. He was used to walking in on her in various states of undress, and both were perfectly comfortable like this around each other. She had treated enough of his injuries to see him in not much more than boxers or a towel some days, and she just didn't really care.
There was the slight lingering of cigarette smoke and her deodorant in the air, but that never bothered him. It was part of the sensory comforts he linked to her, and was indeed how the leather jacket he'd “borrowed” from her smelt.
He had let himself into her house, having a spare key. It was a gift from her for his 18th birthday (One of many), so that he could come and see his best friend whenever he pleased. Which was quite often, to the point where it would have been easier for him to move in were circumstances better
"C..can I stay the night please?" He spoke in his timid manner, eyes scanning the room. Her bedroom was so different to his room at home, from being considerably larger to the band posters, the records on the wall and the general disorder and lack of organisation to it. Her room reassembled a bomb site according to her parents, with clothing strewn everywhere, empty energy drink cans littering her desk and bedside table with a couple of full ashtrays in various places.
Despite this, he liked being here. It always made him feel safe and sound, both knowing his parents had no ability to get into her home let alone her room, and knowing that she'd protect him. After all, her arms were like castle walls. Protecting him from the outside world, and always tight around his smaller frame.
In his hands, he held two things. His left hand had his worn and loved sketchbook in it, something he was barely ever seen without. It was like a sort of... well, comfort blanket for lack of a better word. His art was important to him, ranking just underneath his best friend in his world. Her, his sketchbook, food. Those were his three keys to living, so he thought.
In his right hand was an ice cold can of her favourite drink, something he'd picked up from the grocery store on his way to see her. He knew she loved this drink, so would always bring her one. His steps were cautious as he walked towards her, eyes flickering up to meet her face as she stood up. She practically towered over him at her full height, compared to his mere 5 foot 5 inches.
Often, he would relax on seeing her face. But tonight, he was tense as he stood there. He was on edge, tired, and sore as hell. He just couldn’t relax in the slightest, tears brimming in his eyes as he made eye contact with her. He looked away, cheeks darkening and turning a deep red at the shame of starting to cry. But it wasn’t hard to see why. Bruising and swelling around his left eye showed he was struggling with the pain and discomfort of a black eye, among other cuts and bruises from a recent… altercation with his father. It wasn’t two-sided, but rather the smaller, blonde-haired boy being on the receiving end of it all.
◇◇◇◇
Name: William Peter Carter
Nickname: Will
Age: 18
Nationality: American.
Height: 5 foot 5
Weight: This can fluctuate, but usually between 90 and 100 pounds depending 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!