Post by Kiku Honda on Apr 22, 2012 17:22:58 GMT -5
Love me cancerously
Like a salt sore soaked in the sea
High maintenance means you're a gluttonous queen, narcissistic and mean
Kill me romantically
Fill my soul with vomit then ask me for a piece of gum
Bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum
You're awful, I love you!
Name: Kiku Honda
Country: Japan
Date of birth: February 11
Age: 20
Likes: Reading, watching television, cooking, writing, people-watching, drawing, knitting, cats.
Dislikes: Loud noises, thunderstorms, closed off spaces, being talked down to, living with other people, stating his opinion in group activities.
(If a patient)
Diagnosis: Major depressive disorder, social anxiety, minor obsessive compulsive disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder.
Voluntary/Involuntary hospitalisation: Involuntary.
Months/Years hospitalised: Two years.
(People are likely to want to RP outside the board, so give them ways to contact you if you're okay with that)
MSN: N/A
AIM: hikikomorism
Yahoo: N/A
Sample journal (an in-character paragraph in the style of a diary):
Dear journal,
New people come in every day. It is very unsettling. They all look at me; I really wish they wouldn't. I know they think of me as odd; they see my scars, they look at my hair cut, they analyze me from head to toe. One of them may end up being my roommate. I do not want that. I tell them every single day that I wish to live alone. Other people will disturb my environment. They will think of me as odd, as a freak. Then again... aren't we all as such?
Sample RP (show us how you would play your character):
He saw it right before his eyes. A large man, burly and wielding the biggest gun he had ever looked at, broke through the door with seamlessly no effort. He was only fourteen years old, sitting on the sofa while his father helped him with his math homework, and his mother pet the cat. The strange man had no regard for their family life; he barged into the house, screaming, and aimed his rifle at Kiku's father. With one shot, Mr. Honda was dead. His blood stained the couch, as well as Kiku's shirt. Next was his mother. Before he could shoot Kiku, the neighbor came barreling in with a gun of his own, taking down the murderer. The heroic man held Kiku as he called 911, the young boy too shocked to cry, too shocked to feel.
Like a salt sore soaked in the sea
High maintenance means you're a gluttonous queen, narcissistic and mean
Kill me romantically
Fill my soul with vomit then ask me for a piece of gum
Bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum
You're awful, I love you!
Name: Kiku Honda
Country: Japan
Date of birth: February 11
Age: 20
Likes: Reading, watching television, cooking, writing, people-watching, drawing, knitting, cats.
Dislikes: Loud noises, thunderstorms, closed off spaces, being talked down to, living with other people, stating his opinion in group activities.
(If a patient)
Diagnosis: Major depressive disorder, social anxiety, minor obsessive compulsive disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder.
Voluntary/Involuntary hospitalisation: Involuntary.
Months/Years hospitalised: Two years.
(People are likely to want to RP outside the board, so give them ways to contact you if you're okay with that)
MSN: N/A
AIM: hikikomorism
Yahoo: N/A
Sample journal (an in-character paragraph in the style of a diary):
Dear journal,
New people come in every day. It is very unsettling. They all look at me; I really wish they wouldn't. I know they think of me as odd; they see my scars, they look at my hair cut, they analyze me from head to toe. One of them may end up being my roommate. I do not want that. I tell them every single day that I wish to live alone. Other people will disturb my environment. They will think of me as odd, as a freak. Then again... aren't we all as such?
Sample RP (show us how you would play your character):
He saw it right before his eyes. A large man, burly and wielding the biggest gun he had ever looked at, broke through the door with seamlessly no effort. He was only fourteen years old, sitting on the sofa while his father helped him with his math homework, and his mother pet the cat. The strange man had no regard for their family life; he barged into the house, screaming, and aimed his rifle at Kiku's father. With one shot, Mr. Honda was dead. His blood stained the couch, as well as Kiku's shirt. Next was his mother. Before he could shoot Kiku, the neighbor came barreling in with a gun of his own, taking down the murderer. The heroic man held Kiku as he called 911, the young boy too shocked to cry, too shocked to feel.
