VANITY, jaydee

[Jaydee scott Vanity]

welcome to blue river institution ,

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allow me to introduce myself. i am Jaydee Scott Davidson and i am sixteen. last time i checked, i was male. seeing that i'm here, there must be something wrong with me, right? well, my disorder(s) is/are/include: schizoprenia, depression, and dependent personality disorder. i know, i'm seriously fucked up, aren't i? well with proper treatment, i will get better, right? anyway, i am five feet, six inches tall and weigh around 120 pounds. some people say i resemble alex mckee, but i just don't see it. anymore, more about me, right?

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basic information ,

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name jaydee scott davidson [goes by jaydee vanity]
nickname jay
general appearance

[/i] Standing at five feet, six inches and weighing in at one hundred twenty pounds, you could say he's about normal sized. He tends to be found in girls clothing, usually black, pink, or purple, and he hates the color orange. His hair is shaggy and tends to be rather messy. He carries a ragged, blood-stained rabbit with him where ever he goes.
sexuality[/i] bi-sexual
birthday july fifteenth
distinguishing features[/i] pierced ears, cutting scars along his arms/torso
likes[/i] friends, getting wasted, brownies, his stuffed bunny, walking around, reading, blood, cuddling, watching things, being surrounded by people, music
dislikes[/i] being alone, loud noises, being yelled at, his parents, funerals, caskets
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personality ,

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patient's mental disorders / disabilities

[/i] schizophrenia, depression, dependent personality disorder
comprehensive personality / behaviour[/i] He's always been a bit weird, but now he's lost pretty much all of any sanity he had before. He's very, very dependant on others: he hates making descisions, and much prefers to be led. He tends to latch onto one person then get extremely possessive, demanding they stay with him, that they don't leave him "because the monsters will get him." He gives himself to anyone who bothers to pay attention for any amount of time, letting them use him and his body in any way they please as long as he doesn't have to be alone.

Because monsters lurk in the real world, and he knows this. He'll tell you this, sane as can be, as he clutches that ragged stuffed bunny of his to his chest and rocks back-and-forth. Then suddenly he'll panic, clinging to you like a frightened toddler, those brown eyes of his focused on something you can't see, screaming that he made them angry, that they're coming to get him. The only one to calm him when he gets like this is to cuddle against him and stroke his hair to soothe him, until he drops into a frightened sleep that is more twitching and jerks than sleep.

He's completely frightened of funerals, yet he is fascinated by blood. He'll slice himself open just to watch it roll down his skin, those bright crimson beads he finds so breath-takingly, horrifyingly beautiful. He'll watch it slide down his smooth skin as he mutters under his breath, words you can barely make out as he tries to keep the monsters he sees at bay. He sees them everywhere, hidden within people, walking in plain sight, waving to him, calling to him.

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background information ,

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family member names

[/i] caroline davidson, 46, mother. jackie davidson, 54, father. julie davidson, deceased, sister.
comprehensive history[/i] He was born the second child, an oops neither of them had wanted. They were focused on his older sister, an a-type personality with Potential stamped across her forehead: he was usaully just something to take care of. His sister was the only one to ever pay attention to him beyond his basic needs: as a result, he was closer to her than anyone. She listened as he spoke of the monsters he could see everywhere, stroking his hair until he fell asleep, exhausted, clutching his bunny to his chest.

He never went anywhere without that ragged bunny, finding comfort in the solid feel of it in his hands. Often times he would raid his sisters closet as he grew older, preferring her clothes over his own - as a result, he often went to school in girls clothes. He was teased for both the clothes and his stuffed rabbit, but he always just shrugged it off, sitting in his little corner desk in the back of the room, watching the time go by. He made friends with a little girl his age, but when they hit middle school and she became popular, she ditched him. He followed her around the school for weeks until she flat-out told him to "get the hell away, you creep, I hate you." He was crushed. He ran home crying to an empty house, locking himself in the bathroom.

When he lifted his tear-stained face from his knees, he found himself staring at a razor sitting innocently out on the sink. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed it, tracing it along his skin and becoming entranced by the blood that flowed from his arm. He continued cutting after that day without anyone suspecting a thing, not even his sister. Then one day, when he was fourteen, he went to his sisters house to visit. She was throwing a drunken party, and he quickly joined in, using the name of 'Jaydee Vanity', a nickname he'd used before, to pretend he was legal. Halfway through the party a couple of men enticed him upstairs with the promise of a joint, and they quickly locked him in a room with them. After getting him completely wasted on weed and alchohol, they used him for sex after finding out he was perfectly willing to comply.

From that point on, he let anyone who wanted to use him at one of those parties. Often, his sister would collect money, and he'd disappear upstairs with people willing to love him, if only for a few minutes before they left him behind. He began seeing monsters everywhere, but his sister no longer cared, only interested in the money she could make. He shed his old name and became 'Jaydee Vanity', lapping up the attention he was given. Then, abrubtly, everything changed. One of the partiers got high on cocaine, and he brought a gun with only one bullet. When the night was over, everyone had gotten out safely except his sister: she lay dead on the living room floor with a bullet in her chest. When police searched the house, they found it trashed but empty, except for a young boy in a bathroom upstairs, covered with his own blood from a deep cut in his arm and laughing hysterically, talking about monsters and clutching a blood-stained rabbit to his chest.

He was rushed to the hospital, where he was saved by the fact that he hadn't cut deep enough to kill himself. It was determined that seeing his sister die before his very eyes had completely unhinged him, especially after learning how close they'd always been. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia and dependent personality disorder, as well as depression, and sent to the Asylum as his parents sighed with relief. After all, they had a reason to pay to keep him locked up and out of their lives forever now.

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behind the mask ,

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hi my name is bruiser and i am 15 years old. last time i checked, i'm a female. i've been rping for 2-3 years and i love it. i found this site through derek and i must say, it's awesome! so anyway, i live in eastern time and i will be on pretty much all the time i currently have this shiny new character and no others. you can contact me through pm or by iming me at xmyxshadowx768. i promise you i have read the rules and i will be a dedicated member to the site!

Small daggers clicked on the stones as the young girl with the blue roan dress made her way through the abandoned city, dark eyes watching warily around her. Already at such a young age a kind of quiet watchfulness had settled about her frame, the result of being orphaned from the time she’d been born. There was no youthful arrogance like a normal foal might have - instead, there was craftiness hidden just behind her always watching eyes. One ear flicked backwards as thunder growled in the skies, threatening to lash out at every moment.

Lifting her head, the malnourished flicka smiled without warmth, her eyes sweeping more animatedly over the lands. Yes. This was where she needed to be. ”Queen Necropolis…I would like an audience with you…” She spoke into the lands, her voice whispery and soft, the last syllables fading away almost before being spoken. She didn’t like speaking too loud…there were things to be learned by listening, and drifting about without purpose. She had learned of her dark lineage that way, the whispers of her grandfather, a Helkaer called the Rev who had died long ago, and more recently her father, an ex-Helkaer named Snowfire. It could be said she carried powerful blood; she didn’t see it within herself.

When she looked at herself, all she saw was an orphaned filly, alone in a heartless world where she didn’t know the rules. Her blue roan pelt stretched over her ribs tightly from malnourishment, her white socks and blaze fading into her pelt because of the dirt that covered them. She’d drifted here, to this dark land where bones grew in place of flowers and the queen dealt hands of death…why? Perhaps she intended to die that night…her young mind grasped eternal darkness, and instantly rejected that idea. No, it would be too easy to take that route away from life. Perhaps, by coming here, she would find her purpose.

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