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That's all! Enjoy reading about my favorite creations. If you wish to comment on them or if you like one of them enough that you wish to have them in an RP of yours, feel free to PM me!

NOTE: Throughout the next three months, I will not be as active. If you would like for me to join your RP and PM me to do so, I will likely decline your generous offer or I may not be able to respond at all. School is so difficult, folks T^T

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CURRENT STATUS:

Active | Not Active

Moving on.

Blue can be infuriating. He is the very definition of rude, so irritating that even the sweetest of all would reach their boiling point. When people do finally snap and demand he stop being so damn stupid, Blue takes their anger as an excuse to continue acting the way he does, going so far as to cruelly prod at a person’s isecurities just to rile them up further. And when a person resorts to violence, Blue cannot find himself to care; he only laughs maniacally and sprints off to some place unknown as the one unfortunate enough to have encountered his most unpleasant side chases him into the shadows.

Blue is never seen without a smile, be it one brimming with joy or smug as hell or small and tinged with a kind of sadness that only comes with knowing so much, too much. He is known for his laughter, his wheezing cackles, high-pitched barked-out giggles, and near-psychotic guffaws, all of which are either insanely frustrating or severely contagious--there is no in-between. The boy finds amusement in quite literally anything, even in things that aren’t the tiniest bit hilarious. When Blue descends into maniacal laughter, it takes minutes to calm him down and get him to shut it, regardless of where he is (be it in a formal setting or out in the middle of God-knows-where) or who he’s with. He is as unprofessional as one can get.

He’s… different when he isn't with other people. When no one is there to see the dullness of his eyes.

What’s more is his… Well, how does one put it? Ah, yes: the “B” in his name stands for “BIg Horny”, for Blue is a Simp™. If he sees anyone the slightest bit attractive, he will enter what can only be described as Simp Mode and will immediately begin the process of Flirtation. His efforts succeed just as well as getting him to shut up does--that is to say: it’s time to start Crying. What is interesting to note, however, is that, he is not, in fact, as interested in these handsome/beautiful individuals as he makes himself out to be; when someone reciprocates, either in jest or, most unfortunately, because they’ve made the horrible mistake of falling for him, he immediately (but subtly and gently) rejects them. Another thing to keep in mind is that when he develops a friendship with an individual he has actively leered at, he will severely tamper-down on the flirtations and begin playing the role of an overprotective mother hen with a I-will-end-the-world-for-you kind of attitude. He will, of course, continue to never fail on commenting about how hot they are, a sly little wink always following his much more sly (and much more cringey) words.

When asked exactly why he rejects these individuals when he acts as interested as he does, he’ll say, “Oh, no offense or anything, but, like, you’re wayyy too young for me.” And he’ll say this to forty-seven-year-old men. It’s honestly worrying…

Another trait of his, and perhaps the second of the last to note, is his… laziness. Blue is quite the unmotivated human being; he’d rather spend his days buried in piles of empty bottles than do something remotely productive. The fact that he complains of boredom adds to his irritable nature; after all, how does one have the audacity to say that they’ve nothing to do when there are hundreds upon hundreds of opportunities scattered all about oneself, and one is the reason why one’s neurons are constantly burying themselves? Perhaps he is this way because…

Well, would now be the appropriate time to mention his love for alcohol? The types that you wouldn’t dare drink even half a bottle of within a day he drinks almost two bottles of within five hours.

He does it to shut his brain down until his thoughts die, to slow his heartbeat until it stops, to--

Ah.

Moving on.

Everything about Blue is blue. Atop his head rests a shock of blue hair--and not just any shade of blue, but a bright, solid blue that is uniform throughout and barely varies in shade.

(“Oh, my luxurious locks?” Blue will croon whenever someone asks what kind of hair dye he uses. “It’s a hundred percent natural!”

He’s lying. That much is obvious.)

Blue’s blue hair is unkempt and is in dire need of being combed, puffing out in curled spikes every which way. Nearly a third of his head is composed of a mop of hair, knotted and matted in so many places that if the boy ever took a brush and actually practiced self-care, his hair would probably extend to his shoulders. Some curls are so heavy that they hang in clumps over and past his ears. The only part that is remotely neat about his hair is his bangs--they fall over his forehead in wavvy, emo-like strands, thin in density near his right eye but thick where his left eye supposedly lies. The shade of his hair overpowers the hue of his only visible eye; everyone focuses so much on the mess upon his head that not one person in this world has come to appreciate the beauty of his visible iris: engulfing his pupil is a ring of pure arctic-blue that has no variation throughout--it is always the same color, at all times, even in shadow.

The condition of Blue’s left eye is unknown. It’s hidden beneath a kerlix bandage. The bandage is wrapped around his head similar to a sweatband, but tilted sideways in such a way that it covers half of the left side of Blue’s face, concealing two-thirds of his forehead, touching his left cheek ever-so-slightly before running on top of the left portion of Blue’s hair, pinning the unruly curls to his head. The bandage continues, disappearing under his hair when it reaches the back of his head. The bandage only appears again when it emerges from the nest of hair near the top of his head, then continues over his left eye at an angle that is a little lower than the first loop, disappearing once again when it reaches the back of his head. The bandage does not make a third loop; it can be assumed that the end of the bandage is tied to the first loop somewhere underneath the right portion of Blue’s hair. A little to the left of Blue’s left eye, the two loops of the bandage separate the slightest bit, leaving a small gap that reveals his cheekbone.

(“What’s the bandage for?” curious individuals who are willing to risk death have been known to ask.

Blue’s face will darken at this. Then, with a smile that screams Don’t ask again, he’ll say, “Aesthetic.”)

The bandage is also blue. Very blue, in fact. It’s colored only a few shades lighter than Blue’s hair.

To further accentuate the blueness of Blue, the boy adorns blue clothing wherever he goes. Blue shirts, blue pants, blue shorts, blue skirts, blue sneakers--everything is some shade of blue that ranges from midnight blue to celeste blue. Rarely does Blue wear anything that isn’t blue; if, by some miracle, he does, it'll only either be turquoise, aqua, or teal--all three of which can still be classified under the color blue. He has twenty-five different outfits ranging from clothes that belong on bulky men to feminine, professional wear. None of these ensembles fit his thin physique: he has to roll up the sleeves a certain number of times to make sure they don’t dangle past his limbs and get in the way. Sometimes, he'll wear the shortest shorts known to man, but he always makes sure to cover any skin with too-long leggings. It can be assumed, then, that he doesn't like revealing his skin.

He always wears one pair of two pairs of gloves, either dark-blue-based outlined in lighter shades of blue or solid-blue-based with near-black blue highlights. Additionally, he is never seen without his jacket. One that he made himself, in fact. It’s blue, like always, and bears an impossible number of inside pockets--a total of twenty-six, twenty-five of which are scattered randomly on the inside flaps while the last is stitched into the lowest part of the right flap--and two pockets to fit his hands into. All these pockets have zippers. The jacket itself, however, does not have a zipper nor any buttons; he never thought that he’d need to close the jacket when he was making the thing. He relies instead on wearing a multitude of inside layers to combat the cold. As for when the weather is warm, he will temporarily remove the fur lining on the hood and wear the thinnest inside layer he can find to prevent overheating. If that doesn’t work, he’ll let the jacket slide past his shoulders a little. If that doesn’t work…, then he supposes he’ll just die of a heat stroke.

He has five copies of the same jacket. He loves it that much.

Maybe one day he’ll replace it. The item of clothing he chooses to swap it out with just has to be blue, though. Everything has to be blue when it comes to him.

Blue. The opposite of red.

Continuing on, he is adorned with a total of twenty-five watches. On his right arm are six skeleton, automatic wrist-watches. Four of these watches are large and are fastened in a way where the faces are on the upper portion of his arm; two are small, strapped in such a way where the faces are on the underside of his arm, and are squished in-between the straps of their larger companions. On his other arm are seven watches, also skeleton and automatic. He has the same number of large watches on this arm as his other arm; however, these watches are strapped in a way where their faces are directed downward. As for small watches, instead of two, there are three, and are facing opposite to the two on his other arm. He bears twelve pocket watches: a half-hunter comprised of tarnished brass is tightly tied via an elastic string around the crus of his left leg, near his calf, while another half-hunter, also tarnished, but this time made of bronze, is clipped to the fabric of his left thigh; clipped to the thigh and crus of his right pant leg is a bronze full-hunter and brass full-hunter, respectively; an open-faced gold-fashioned one that glimmers bright in morning light hangs from his left hip, sharing its fiber-based sturdy string with a two-toned half-hunter copper watch that has gone a tad bit green with time; hanging beneath the first two is a deep hickory double-hunter pocket watch which always appears to be at risk of falling with how lazily its rusted chain is attached to Blue’s belt; a rose-tinted copper full-hunter can be found on his right hip, a red-tinged partner around twice its size crowding it on the gold chain they share; a completely onyx double half-hunter one is clipped to the hem of his pocket, and it is the most notable of all eight due to the half of its remaining hinged protective cover being visibly fractured; and, finally, a silver-chain necklace hangs humbly upon his neck, freckled with the ginger shades of rust, a small double-hunter pocket watch of the same color, albeit sometimes of a different hue depending on the light, attached to it, below which is the smallest of all eight, a double open-faced colored a deep, blood-red, and also dangles from his neck, though this time via a chain that looks more like barbed wire than anything that doesn’t hurt. He is rarely seen without his plethora of watches. When he does need them to not be on his person, he carefully removes every single watch and places each one in its respective pocket--hence why his jacket has so many inside pockets.

All twenty-five of his watches are broken. Not one is accurate in telling the time. Some watches’ hands have long since stopped moving.

He does not dare even consider replacing them. Perhaps due to them being the only items on him that aren’t blue. They make him less eye-hurting.

As for his stature, Blue is short as hell. And don’t tell him to stop complaining about it. How would you feel if you had to look up at twelve-year-olds? But this might be his own undoing; you see, the boy never ate anything of nutritious value (sometimes, he never ate anything at all. For days) when he was growing, so his growth stunted and he’s stuck at 61.23987 inches. He measured himself, tall people, so don’t you dare ask him how tall he is or your ankle rights are forfeited.

Not only is he shorter than gremlins, Blue is incredibly skinny--almost gaunt, like a famine singled him out in the middle of a city. Most of his weight comes from his baggy clothes, incredibly long sleeves, and big-ass boots that no one can figure out how he comfortably walks in. The boy needs to drink more milk and eat more, dammit.

TLDR, Blue is thin and short with unruly blue hair. He wears blue clothes. He wears a total of twenty-five watches. Twelve of these watches are pocket watches, and are worn in multiple parts of his body. Thirteen are automatic, skeleton wristwatches, of which there are seven on his left arm and six on his right arm.

He misses them.

Blue always talks about his brothers and sisters. He speaks of Joshua, the red-headed boy who was stupid enough to try mothering them all and even stupider to think he could save the world. He speaks of Jacob, the dead-inside one, and always takes the time to mention that the boy felt too much, loved too much, that he had to learn to harden his heart, to hide his vulnerability and weakness. He speaks of M, his sister who always thought she was useless, and never fails to ingrain in people’s minds about how much she adored children, never fails to have people remember just how kind she was. He talks about Emmy, the favorite among them all; about how brilliant and sweet the boy was, about how he deserved the world. Amisala, his “batshit sister”, appears in almost every other conversation, and he speaks of her insanity with such fondness that those allergic to emotions would surely asphyxiate. Tyler is a name those who dare to tolerate Blue are familiar with, for Blue openly expresses his brotherly love for a boy who longed for a freedom known only in eternal sleep. Blue will always shiver when Tuakana’s name slips from his mouth--the young woman was terrifying, after all (who wouldn’t be when she always threatened to send you to therapy with everything you did wrong?), and she’d worked so hard that everyone wanted to keep her satiated because… Well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint Tuakana. Ah, and Blue never forgets about Fratineto! The quiet girl who only truly opened up to Emmy; to be graced with her shy smile would be the greatest honor.

“Where are they now?” a few will ask.

And to that, Blue will smile softly, gently, and say, “Not here, that’s for sure.”

.