Post by Imogen Faye Sullivan on Mar 31, 2013 19:30:06 GMT -6
I M O G E N FAYE S U L L I V A N !
be careful making wishes in the dark ,
[/i][/color][/size][/font]be careful making wishes in the dark ,
d a r k, c a n 't b e s u r e w h e n t h e y 'v e h i t t h e i r m a r k, m a r k. a n d b e s i d e s i n t h e
mean, mean time i'm just dreaming of tearing you apart. i'm in the de-details with the devil[/color][/font]
[/color] Imogen Faye SullivanFull Name:
Nicknames: Immie
Age: Sixteen
Birthdate: February 8
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Gender: Female
Problem: Schizophrenic
Grade: Sophomore
Clique(s): Loners, Artists
Classes:
so now the world can never get me ?[/i][/color][/size][/font]
o n m y l e v e l. i j u s t g o t t o g e t y o u o u t o f t h e c a g e. i 'm a y o u n g l o v e r 's r a g e
gonna need a spark to ignite. my songs know what you did in the dark. so light 'em up, up,[/color][/font]
[/color] 5 ft. 6 inchesHeight:
Weight: 115 pounds
Hair Color: Dark brown
Eye Color: Bright blue
Notable Features: The phrase "without access to true chaos, we'll never have peace" tattooed on her shoulder blade, also her ears are pierced.
Play-By: Kaya Scodelario
General Description: Long, dark brown hair cascades past pale shoulders with darkened bright blue eyes shielded behind eyeliner. Her wrists and neck are laden with various aspects of jewelry, such as spiked bracelets and pearls, and she is never seen without black nailpolish. She loves fishnets and ripped up clothing paired with black boots, her dresses a bit too short to be considered appropriate but she couldn't care less. Her frame, while tall, remains thin though not along the lines of an anorexic -- she would never disgrace herself in such a way.[/justify]
[/blockquote][/size]
up light 'em up up up. light 'em up ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
u p, u p. i ' m o n f i r e. s o l i g h t 'e m u p, u p, u p. l i g h t 'e m u p, u p, u p. l i g h t 'e m u p, u p,
up. i'm on fire. in the dark, dark. in the dark, dark. all the writers keep writing[/color][/font]
[/color] cinnamon, spontaneity, cigarettes, stars, new experiences, spiders, coffee, drugs, painting, when she's able to escape his' prying eyes.Likes:
Dislikes: vulnerability, facing her problems/emotions, small talk, girly girls, authority, that man, toads, people who disgust her (namely her mother), routine, lightning (there are times where she feels he makes it happen so as to frighten her and leave her defenseless against his inevitable final attack on her life).
Strengths: observance, sarcasm, reading, astronomy, remaining detached, painting.
Weaknesses: understanding true love, showing those she cares about that she actually cares, the dark, him, math, pessimistic.
Fears: he will kill her, no one will believe her/stop him before he gets to it, the dark (that's where he lurks the most and frightens her more), that she will never be free of him, that she will never get the chance to experience love or that she will find love and not recognize it in time, so she loses him.
Disorders: Schizophrenia.
General Description: Fierce, Imogen is independent and will not, nor will she ever, depend on another soul for anything. Trust is a precarious issue and she's learned it's better to keep herself hidden than to show her entire deck. She plays by her own rules and can be rather selfish, putting her desires before others, which has landed her in some unwanted situations with old friends who, needless to say, aren't speaking with her anymore. However, she never really considered them friends in the first place as, when it came to a true friend, she would help -- in her own way. This applies to her loyalty as well for while she sticks by her friends, she has a hard time showing and/or confessing her appreciation, the message usually being sent through small smiles and letting them stumble upon a weak moment, if only for a second. She hates appearing weak, vulnerability definitely not being her strong suit, and so puts on an aloof facade, having done it so much over the years that she's seemingly perfected it. Although, she's not afraid to show her disgust or amusement towards something and she's definitely not afraid to act out. Sarcasm drips from her tongue, impulse runs through her veins. She doesn't have much order and prefers to go with the flow of things, she's much more easygoing if she can get some drugs into her system as it keeps the bad man away (preferably weed or anything that will make her brain stop, doesn't matter to her). She gets upset when her fun is disrupted and is vengeful towards those who have scorned her -- if she can find a way to fuck your life up, she will do it, and with a wicked smirk curling at the edges of her lips. Stubborn, she doesn't budge when she knows she's right or if she has an idea in mind. She hates authority and the only teachers she respects are her Astronomy and Art teachers; they're the only classes that provide any relief. She runs from her emotions, bottling them and disregarding them rather than dealing with them. Her anger is chilling, her features and tone very calm and even, though everyone snaps from time to time. This mainly happens when she's interrupted whilst in the middle of something she deems important or while painting
what they write, write. somewhere ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
a n o t h er p r e t t y v e i n j u s t d i e d. i 'v e g o t t h e s c a r s f r o m t o m o r r o w a n d, i
wish you could see, see that you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me[/color][/font]
[/color] Anya SullivanMother:
Father: Kurt Sullivan
Siblings: None.
Pets: None.
Other: Cecilia Evans - grandmother (deceased)
History: Imogen was born into the loving arms of Anya and Kurt Sullivan, a tiny bundle of joy for the first time parents. It started out alright, Anya staying home with the baby, Kurt going off to work, but within months this structure of life was beginning to crumble. Kurt started arriving home later and later each night, always claiming he had lost track of time and that his workload had gotten the better of him. Anya put up a fuss, claiming he wasn't home enough for Imogen and was starting to wonder if he cared -- the screaming often woke Imogen, leaving the fight to dissolve as Anya tended to her and Kurt snuck off to the study. Though it didn't take long for Anya to find the letters, dainty lettering scrawled across them with a distinct lilac scent, or to notice the lipstick stains which suddenly frequented Kurt's collars. As any cheating man would, he lied, denying that he was seeing anyone but Anya had had enough. She brought out the box containing the evidence, huffily spilling them out across the floor, little Imogen watching from her crib in the corner. Kurt's face went white before he became defensive, attempting to turn it around and make a claim that it was wrong of her to go snooping through his things, which of course led to Anya screaming that he had kept it in plain sight, at least the last one, which she had found stuffed in his jacket pocket. Back and forth, back and forth the yelling went, Imogen suddenly quiet, merely watching with piqued interest. The last she saw of her father was his retreating back walking out the door, suitcase in hand, leaving an inconsolable Anya in his wake. She cried for days, so much so that her mother, Cecilia, had to come to tend to Imogen. Anya went into a depressive cycle, unwilling to leave her bed, unwilling to be a mother. It was Imogen's grandmother who had to make sure the household remained afloat, who made sure that Imogen was fed and changed, who made sure that the bills were paid on time. It was a lot to place on a 66 year old woman but Anya, in her grief, couldn't seem to fathom that; she remained in bed, sleeping more often than not, withering away into a shell of what she used to be.
As Imogen grew older, her mother often blamed her for the loss of her husband, for bringing such misery into her life. Wide-eyed, the little girl could only watch silently as her mother cursed and smashed plates onto the ground between fits of sobbing and fits of rage. Cecilia protected her, shielding her from as much as she possibly could, forcing Anya into her room and telling her that if she didn't stop then she would leave and how then would Anya pay the bills? This threat hardly meant much as there was no way Cecilia would dare leave her granddaughter in the hands of such an unfit mother. It pained her to see her daughter in such a way but there was nothing she could do about it -- the woman refused any and all help. Anya chain-smoked and took up drinking, empty bottles littering the once spotless floor, which led to Cecilia padding about picking up after her; it was like she had two children to look after. It seemed she had missed one one day as Imogen, now around 9, was running in circles around the living room pretending to be a rocket ship when she accidentally tripped, placing her hands before her as she fell and landing on the glass bottle. Blood seeped from pale skin as the glass sliced her but she didn't scream, she merely walked into her grandmother's room with her bloody hands stuck out in front of her, "Grammy, I fell." For such a young age, she was surprisingly calm, the complete opposite of Cecilia, who let out a little scream and quickly rushed her to a sink, running water over her wounds. She bandaged her up and feigned a smile, though Imogen's features remained unchanged. This expression became more prevalent upon her grandmother's death, Imogen having walked into the room towards what she thought to be a sleeping Cecilia only to shake her and realize something was wrong; she wasn't waking up. She ran to her mother, who lay sprawled out atop the couch with an almost empty bottle in her hand and, having learned that her mother was useless in such a state, ran into the kitchen and moved her little stool towards the fridge so she could stand on it and see the emergency numbers her grandmother had written and stuck onto the metal. 911 was the first she could see, vaguely remembering Grammy saying that this was the number she was supposed to call if anything went wrong or if she couldn't reach her. Imogen jumped off of her stool and raced towards the corded phone, crawling onto the counter so she could reach it and quickly punching those three numbers with her tiny fingers. She told the lady who answered that her grandmother wouldn't wake up and the lady promised they would send someone over shortly. In what felt like hours, three men arrived, two of them going into Grammy's room and the other one remaining by her side and telling her it would be alright. They wheeled the old woman out on a gurney out the door, Imogen running after them and calling for her grandmother. She told them she wanted to go with them and when they asked where her mother was, she said she was asleep on the couch. They reluctantly told her that, unfortunately, she would not be able to come with them without supervision but that they would be calling shortly with news.
Hours passed, Imogen falling asleep while she waited, the shrill ringing of the phone being what shook her from her dreams. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, immediately picking up the phone with a grin a midst her face, asking if her Grammy was okay, if she would be coming home soon. Her smile quickly shrank as the woman painfully told her that her grandmother wouldn't be making it home, that she had gone to a better place. She cut off what probably was a well-rehearsed speech as she dropped the phone, the cheap material breaking upon impact as it hit the floor, its pieces scattering everywhere. Slowly, she walked into the living room, finding her mother had finally awoken though was still laying down and bright blue hues cut towards her, "This is all your fault." She said evenly, though shielded malice dripped from her tongue and hatred gleamed in her eyes. Just as slowly as she came in, she walked back out and locked herself in her room, sitting atop her bed and simply staring ahead of her at the wall. This went on for days, Imogen refusing to eat (though it wasn't as if her mother would actually provide her food in the first place anyway) as well as speak. As much as it impacted Imogen negatively, it had the opposite affect on Anya. Her mother's death had seemingly provided that 'push' she had been needing, Anya going out and getting a job and suddenly providing for the family again. She acted as if nothing happened, which went on for years, even into Imogen's teens. She never spoke about her mother, never mentioned how much her mother had actually helped her and certainly never acknowledged Imogen's presence; they were merely two strangers living in the same house. Imogen followed suit but would always hold contempt for the woman she was ashamed to have as a mother. It was around the first few months after her grandmother's death that an odd presence suddenly started following Imogen around. When she was a kid, her mother claimed it was just an imaginary friend, that she was just making it up. But Imogen could feel him and there were times where she swore she felt him breathing on the back of her neck. It happened more often than not when she was around others, people she considered friends, who, when she told of him, deemed her mad and dropped her like a hot sack of potatoes. But she knew what she felt, she knew he was something evil. He never gave himself a name but he followed her constantly; she could never escape him. As she neared fourteen, it got worse and she was convinced he was going to kill her. He had been around her for too long not to have a motive. He was simply observing her patterns so he could find the best way, and place, to kill her. But first, he wanted to frighten her, he wanted to make her so scared that she'd beg for him to take her life. Well, she'd be damned if she let that happen, but she can't help but be terrified of him. He's strong, much stronger than anyone believes, and she knows he will be her downfall. He's getting hungry -- he wants a taste of her blood and he's not ever going to stop. And her mother, well, she got tired of Imogen pretty fast and, thinking her just as mad as her 'friends' did, sent her to St. Helena's so "she wouldn't harm anyone and blame him" or "give her an even worse reputation."[/justify][/blockquote][/size]
a constellation of tears on your lashes ,[/i][/color][/size][/font]
b u r n e v e r y t h i n g y o u l o v e, t h e n b u r n t h e a s h e s. i n t h e e n d e v e r y t h i n g
collides. my childhood spat back out the monster that you see. my songs know what you did in the dark.[/color][/font]
[/color] EffieAlias:
Age: 21
Time Zone: Eastern
Other Characters: N/A
Code Words: ---[/justify][/blockquote][/size]
this template was made by alice. it uses the lyrics
for "my songs know what you did in the dark (light 'em up)"
by fall out boy. do not steal, alter, edit, or use without her
permission or she will send the evil monkey in her closet
after you. you have been warned. also, credit for the image
goes to BELLA! at CAUTION 2.0[/i][/center]
