Welcome!

[Martin Scully]

Your Name: Lizzy
Age: fifteen
Experience: um … two-ish years, I think
Other Characters: none

First Name: Martin
Last Name: Scully
Nickname(s): Martin, Marty, Alien
Age: 17
DOB: April 1
Gender: male
Sexuality: pansexual
Why are you at Winwood?
physical/verbal abuse victim
drug abuse
he's a pyro
Position: camper
Specialty: ---

Hair:
Naturally blond
He has been dying it ever since he was fifteen. It has been dark brown, light brown and purple. He has recently gone back to blond.
Eyes: blue
Skin Tone: light tan
Celebrity Avatar: Dougie Poynter
Picture:
Other:
He has a space theme tattoo on his right chest, going down his arm, a star on each ankle. Both of his ears have plugs in them, and he has a lip ring, which he doesn’t wear often.

Likes:
[x]his tattoos
[x]smoking
[x]his piercing
[x]acting like a kid
[x]living on the edge
[x]skateboarding
[x]fire
[x]music
[x]his bass
[x]girls and guys
[x]junk food
Dislikes:
[x]his father
[x]getting hurt
[x]being over crowded
[x]being in withdrawal
[x]anything sharp
[x]sarcasim [he can rarely pick it up]
Fears:
[x]his father
[x]sharp objects
[x]Lygophobia- Fear of darkness | the dark is something he is terrified of. He can’t sleep unless he has some for of light, and if you put him in a dark room for more then a couple of minutes, he starts to panic.
Flaws:
[x]he rarely will let anyone touch him, any time anyone raises a hand around him, he flinches.
[x]the fact that he’s a drug addict.
[x]he’s high strung, and hard to control.
Personality:
Hyper. That’ one way you could describe Martin. From and early age he was high strung and hard to control. He would go out of his way to cause trouble. In school he was that kid who was in the principles office or detention more then he was in class. He was always being told to smarten up, pay attention, but hared being told what to do, and would end up doing the opposite. He‘s a dare devil. You tell him to do or try something and he does it. If you really want to blame something for his drug use, you could blame that. If someone had told him to go jump off the roof he would (though he may have already done that once or twice). He was just that kid who loved to have fun and cause a bit of trouble along the way.

Martin’s a laid back kind of guy when it comes to things that really matter in life. He just doesn’t see the point in giving it his all in school. If he has a high math mark or not, he can still manage to get somewhere in life. He’s always wanted to get somewhere with his music, and he doesn’t see where the math is needed in that. As for a fall back plan? Well he doesn’t have one. Might as well let the road lead him where it may.

After what his dad did to him, Martin doesn’t let too many people close to him, physically or emotionally. Physically, if any one comes too close, he tends to flinch, or back away. After he does it, he’s mentally kicking himself, but for some reason, he can’t kick the habit. Emotionally, he pushes people away. If someone tries to open him up, he refuses to show them anything. Which is why past attempts at rehab have failed. That and he’s never seen his drug use as an addiction. There are times where he does want to let people near him, but there are also times where he won’t even let his friends come near him. He does see this as a problem, but he’s never been able to fix it on his own.

One of his ways (other then drugs) to escape the pain, was to burn things. Not himself (though he’s done it accidentally once or twice) but anything else he could get his hands on. Paper, cloths, pencils, anything. Why it helped him, or let him escape, he’s never known. Now every time something upsets him, rather then hurting himself, he goes off to burn something. It may sound a bit morbid, but if things get bad enough, he’ll take it out on little things, like bugs, by burning them instead of things like dried leaves. After he does something like that, he either regrets it or forgets it.

Martin has always loved to confuse people. By saying some of the most random things, and playing with their minds. He would say something along the lines of “I know your dirty little secret” when in reality, he knows nothing at all. Getting under people’s skin is just like a form of amusement for the boy. Yet he has a hot temper himself. It doesn’t take too much to set him off, but a whole lot more to calm him down. Usually the best thing to do when he’s flaming, is to back off and let him cool down on his own time.

Hometown: Montreal, Quebec
Parents:
James Scully [biological father]
Heather Scully [nee. Langlois, deceased]
Siblings:
Delilah Scully [sister, twenty-eight years old, gaurdian]
History: {3+ paragraphs}
James and Heather met in collage, in a local coffee shop. The two drank their coffees together, and have been dating ever since. Once the pair of them got their degrees, they were married at the ages of 25 and 24. Soon after 24 year old Heather found out that she was pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy little girl. Eleven years later, she was pregnant once again, with Martin. Unfortunately, she died giving birth to her son.

At a young age, Martin’s dad could see that he just craved fun and attention. At age seven he climbed to the top of his monkey bars, before jumping off, just to see what would happen. He ended up with his right leg in a cast, the first of many broken bones. To give their son and outlet for his … hyperactive personality, he gave him something to do. The put a bass guitar in his hands, and gave him some lessons. He took to it and loved it, working hard at it …. Living for it.

At about the age of ten, his dad more or less turned from the regular dad that he was to someone Martin didn’t want to be around. He took to drinking, and when he was drunk, he lost all self control. At first, all the abuse was verbal, blaming Martin for his mother’s death. His older sister turned a blind eye in fear that it would turn to her next. But when the abuse turned physical, and too much for her to bare, she decided to do something about it. She took Martin from the house when he was thirteen, and kept him away from their father. They pressed charges against him, sending him to jail long enough for them to get some help.

Even with his dad locked up, living with his sister, Martin was still rattled up by everything. He ended up turning to drugs to calm himself down. Before he knew it he was addicted. And as much as he denied it, he needed them. His sister caught wind of his addiction, and tried to get him some help. Any rehab attempt failed, and Winwood lake is probably his last shot.

Looking back, High school wasn’t exactly Martin’s cup of tea, so to speak. After graduating his senior year, he might as well had an entire folder to himself of all the detentions he had obtained in his four years of high school. Now his teacher’s always say that they knew that he had the talent with his bass to make it far. Martin just scoffs at these words. He can remember them saying something more along the lines of “You need to smarten up, because if you think your going to get anywhere with you’re acting, you can look around at all the other hopeful musicians, with more dept then cash.” Yes, that’s real encouragement. Needless to say, his marks weren’t the best, unless you count music, where he was the top of the class. There’s one teacher who’s encouragement he could remember, and that was all he needed to get through the day.

Moving on to Martin’s sexuality he has been a closet case his whole life. From everyone except his close friends, and his older sister, whom he shared everything with, except for the drugs. If it weren’t for them, he would have snapped yeas ago. He dated girls, but liked guys as well. Telling people meant that either
A ) He was going to get beaten up over it, because people were prats like that
Or
B ) They would try to use him to get what they wanted from him, sexually.
At least that’s the way he saw it. And quite frankly he didn’t like either outcome.


Sample Roleplay:
Dougie was jittery, unable to sit still. Legs restless, clicking the pen he was supposed to be using to take notes. English. The last subjects if the day, the one that bored him the most. Luck for him he sat in the back of the room, so no one was paying attention to him, or they would have figured he was high or something. Now it was a rarity for him to do anything beyond weed, but most people just took one look at him and figured he did drugs. He wasn’t really in the mood for being sent to guidance, or the office to tell some guy who truly didn’t give a shit, about his ‘problems.’ Yeah, because that was what he really needed.

He glance up at the clock on the wall. Five minutes of being stuck in this room, listing to a droning teacher. He leaned back in the chair playing with one of his lip piercing with his tongue. He drummed his finger on his desk, he really couldn’t take much more of this. He looked over at the teacher who had her back turned to the class writing something on the board. Everyone was talking among themselves, or drawn into whatever was going on in the class and actually paying attention. In short, no one was paying any attention to him. He sat right in the back, so it couldn’t be all that hard to slip out. He had done it before. He scooped up his books, and quietly left the room. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him. No one really cared what people like him did with their lives. He spun the combo on his locker, and shoved the books in his hand into it, while putting others into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He slammed his body into the door of the locker, so that it could be shut with all the sweaters and stray papers he had crammed into it.

As he pushed his way through the doors, he planned on just heading to the park to sit around until he needed some sleep. But that pretty much changed when he recognized the blue car and the boy sitting on the hood. Sure it had only been a few drunken nights here and there, but he recognized them none the less. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirked lightly as he came close to the car. If he had known him well enough, he might have leaned against the car or something, but since he didn’t, he stood near enough, with his hands shoved into the pockets of the Nightmare Before Christmas sweater he could rarely be seen without.


done yo

[Adriane Anderson]

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