COLLINS, ean attley

[ean attley collins]

( Ean Attley Collins)

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Full Name: Ean Attley Collins
Nicknames: Just Ean, or else.
Gender: Male.
Age && Birth Date: 18, December 25th
Member Group: Highschooler
Sexuality: Gay.
Grade: Senior
Play-by: Cole Mohr

loves: fights, winning, scotch, beer, basically all alcohol in any form, cigarettes, cars, fire and smoke, playing the guitar, music, reading, tattoos, writing, driving around, nightly strolls, etc.
despises: judgmental people, liars, bitches, sluts, assholes like himself, pot, losing control, peanut butter, coffee, drama, problems, posers, losing, snobs, etc.
goal(s) for the future: None really. He’s just looking for good old Death to come knocking soon enough.
fear(s):

[/li][li]Ending up like his father
[/li][li]Dying alone and broken
[/li][li]People finding out the façade he’d made for himself
[/li][li]People seeing right through him
[/li][li]Falling in love.
the overall:
Ean wasn’t a guy that you could trust; he’s deceitful and mischievous, always one to put one over you for the sake of seeing you squirm with frustration and grins at your feeling of impotence. He’s Loki in his human form who likes to have fun at the misfortune of others. He’s quite sadistic to an extent; he likes blood, gore and violence more than the boys his age and doesn’t mind acting on his impulses. He’s apathetic and cold, preferring to not care than give a damn and have some semblance of emotions in his heart. He tries his best to regret nothing and is terrified of feeling responsibility ‘cause deep down he’s terrified of failure and rejection.

Despite his rather lanky countenance, he’s quite the fighter; being temperamental and violent can do that to you; he usually ends up getting into fights for the simplest of reasons. It also doesn’t help that he can be quite frank when he wants to and curse like there’s no tomorrow. He likes it best when he can irritate people with the simplest things and spite them when he couldn’t. He abuses his body and his friends; always with a stick of cigarette in his hand and a bottle of beer in the other or making his friends pay for his beer tab and drag him out of trouble, or even just plain out taking their things without permission and never giving them a straight out answer which makes it even harder to tell when he’s lying or not.

He’s witty and quite intelligent but doesn’t like to use it unless he absolutely has to; he prefers gut feelings over his brain, having used it on more than one occasion to save his lie on the streets. He’s charming though when he wants to, which is probably why he still has a few friends that cling to him like night does to day. He just has that aura of him that attracts people on a good day and scares the living shit out of them on a bad day. He doesn’t trust people that easily and doesn’t care if they trust him back for all he cares, which explains his rather few friends. He’s very hard on himself though and tries his best to ignore the voices of failure that’s swimming around his head and has little to no hope that something good will ever happen to him.

Once you do crack through his shell though, you’ll have a hard time getting him off your back whether you want him to or you don’t because he will be your friend no matter what. He might not be the most dependable friend to have, but he will try his best to help you out when you need it though in his case, he’s the one who usually needs helping out.
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mother: Julia Edralin Collins, 32, deceased
father: Robert Anthony Collins, 48, truck driver
siblings: none.
pets: Sid, Golden retriever
the overall history:
It was on the eve of Christmas one fine winter day in 1991 that Ean Attley Collins was born; it was the year that spelled great prospects for the little town where he was born but brought unmistakably ill luck for that little baby boy. As early as he could remember, all he would always wake up to were his parents shouting at each other, with the stench of alcohol heavy in the air. Before, he would just stay inside his room, blocking out the screaming with his tears though soon enough he learned to quiet his tears as well and just block everything out because whenever he would dare make a peep, his father would just come running into his room to kick his ass while his mother wept in the hallway.

Early on he had wanted to ask her why she wouldn’t do anything to save him, their little boy, why his father of all people would hurt him so badly like that, but he soon learned that he’d never have the chance, nor would she because when Ean turned six, his mother sadly passed away due to a brain hemorrhage that no one ever saw. He was six and he didn’t know any better, so when they asked him if it was his father’s fault, like the good little boy, he said no and the beatings just continued behind everyone’s back. He never told anyone about it, even when he started going into elementary. No one dared to ask what was happening and he hid his wounds well, his father did anyway. It was also during this time that he learned how to drink alcohol when his father wasn’t around to drown out the pain as well as a little bit of cigarettes when one of his father’s friends invited him to take a drag with him while waiting for his Dad.

His whole childhood was uneventful other than that, he kept to himself, stayed quiet in school and didn’t associate with a lot of people unless his father told him to. It was only in high school did things become worse for Ean since he was introduced to a local bully. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name anymore but he was two years Ean’s senior and would always pick on him for being scrawny and little; and for the better half of his freshman year, he stayed quiet and took the older boy’s beatings like he did his father’s until he grew a solid good eight inches and two inches taller than his bully. That was his first experience at a fight and the thrill it stirred in him invoked all the other senses that would soon form the Ean Collins standing today. It was also during high school that he learned he was attracted to guys his age and up to now, he’s still struggling with it since he knew it would only make his father hate him more.

The beatings ceased however when his father took up a job as a truck driver for a small company, leaving Ean in the house all alone to do anything he wanted and though he was still quite terrified of his father, the man leaving for work were his heavenly days, when he came home, he would regress back to the asshole that people had grown to loathe.

your alias: Cas
how you found us: Catuion 2.0
time zone: gmt + 8
other characters: None yet. But maybe soon.
how we can contact you: PM is fine.
rp sample:

“3 a.m.

With a hand around his shoulder and a smile on his face, Bobby pushed his friend Logan Hoult out of his house and waved him off. There was an annoyed expression on Logan’s face, made clearer by the tender orange glow of the porch light hovering a few inches above the two boy’s head. The smile on the other boy’s face grew wider as he patted Logan’s cheek affectionately before shooing him away with a hand; shouting ‘we’ll go drinking tonight’ once Logan had finally decided to turn around and walk away from the Arkham household.

The streets were oddly quiet and still, something that even made Logan a little uneasy. Whether it was because this was the earliest time he’d gone home sober or this was the first time in a while that he was actually sober, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t help but wonder if the memories of him going home with the bustling streets filled with cabs and people were true facts or just pigments of his imaginations. Running a hand through his rather messy locks of dark chocolate colored hair, feeling the smooth threads intertwine with his fingers as he straightened a few stray strands out; he felt an itching for some booze. Looking at his ticking wrist watch, its glowing hands telling him it was a few minutes pass three; he was quite confused why there weren’t any cabs around yet.

Letting out a growl of annoyance, he readied to double back to the house of a friend he’d just escaped from, one foot already in front of the other. It froze though as soon as the sound of the rumbling engine reached his ears and the sight of two blinking red lights penetrated his eyes; closing them upon instinct and raising his hand to cover his eyes, he peered through his fingers to see Bobby’s parents car creeping into the garage, with his parents happily chattering from the inside. Groaning now more than ever with his rather bad luck so early in the morning, he curled his hands into fists and kicked the nearest thing to his feet; which happened to be an old rubbish can. As soon as it made the clattering noise as it rolled into the middle of the street, he stepped back and hid in the shadows, quite sure that if Bobby’s parents heard it he’d be in his own little hell if they tell his parents.

Not that he was scared of his parents or anything, he loved, well imagined it to be love anyway, them too much to be afraid of them; it doesn’t help either that they’re never really there for him to realize how frightening or loving they were of him. But there was one thing his parents were terribly conscious about, it was keeping their pristine white image in tact and though Logan wasn’t the best example for that image; he was out of the loop of most people. He wasn’t the sort of bad kid who stood out. He kept to his business most of the time that not many people bothered to find out what was happening to him anyway. He was pretty sure his parents could have even lived like they never even had a kid.

Poking his head out of the darkness once he was sure the parents were safely in their home, he began his walk towards the other corner of the street; surprised to hear the blaring sound of party music coming from a house nearby. He pondered on crashing, almost forgetting the other dynamic to parties: people. Logan admitted to being antisocial a long time ago; even his friends agree with him; why he has friends though is something that puzzles even him. A little too preoccupied by that thought, he didn’t even notice the other person that had hailed the cab the same time as he did and had taken the door handle at the exactly same time as well as him. Looking at the dainty hand on the handle, he looked up and prepared to glare at the person before full blown shock and resentment settled in his brown orbs.

”It’s my cab.””

all graphics go to allie of times we're abandoning, please don't claim this as your own! <3 the lyrics go to avril lavigne from her song fall to pieces .