Post by charles rémi matthieu on Mar 13, 2011 12:20:36 GMT -10
charles rémi matthieu
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out of character *
your name ,, just call me corduroy, hm?
other characters ,, none as of yet.
how did you find us? ,, through a friend, liz.
the basics *[/sub]
full name ,, charles rémi matthieu.
nicknames ,, charlie.
gender ,, male.
birthdate ,, oct 27th.
birthplace ,, oxford, england.
sexuality ,, homosexual.
age ,, eighteen.
year ,, second.
major ,, photography.
appearance *[/sub]
hair color ,, brown.
eye color ,, brown.
face shape ,, oval.
height ,, 5’7
weight ,, 45kgs
body type ,, thin, kinda scrawny.
some people say i look like ,, chris belcher
write it out ,,
tired, that would be the first thing you would think if you were to see charlie walk past you on the street. he takes pride in his appearance and is almost clinically hygienic, but his health is where the care is really lacking. he appears to get sick easily and also suffers from insomnia. his outfits are where his personality really kicks in though. charlie is quite fond of women’s clothing. he finds more joy than normal in wearing women’s clothing right down to the panties. of course, he wears typically boys clothing as well – and even has a rather forward approach to addressing men’s fashion - but he prefers skirts to trousers in every manner of speaking. also, his hair is a birds nest and he can never seem to style it otherwise without it soon returning to that same mess.
personality *[/sub]
straight up and straight out, this lad suffers from gender identity disorder. it controls portions of his life but he works through it. he’s not particularly adverse to physical contact, but unless the reciprocator is his partner he would rather he initiate it and it be over as quickly as possible. he suffers from body dysmorphic disorder because of the gender identity disorder as well.
masochism is the next bit of juicy marrow buried in this boy’s bones. he’s a complete and utter sucker for any harm inflicted on his person, unless it’s a swift kick to his bits and pieces. sexual arousal due to this problem is something he’s come to terms with and tries to hide as often as possible. he’d rather his masochistic tendencies be kept a secret.
charlie isn’t the sort of person to easily place his trust in other people, and he doesn’t expect others to trust him either. he’s a little sickened by needy people, the kind of people who invest themselves completely into the lives of others. he doesn’t believe in love because of the way he was brought up and it’s afraid of telling people as such.
another large aspect of charlie’s personality is his attention deficiency. he’s easily bored by people and only keeps people around if they can keep him entertained. this doesn’t make him the most approachable person in the world and generally leads to conflicts of either the verbal or physical sort. both of which, charlie is more than familiar with.
charlie is an agnostic-atheist, he also believes in equal-rights and the fact that pop tarts and tea can cure any illness. above anything though, charlie tries to be a gentleman because he was brought up to be such. plus, hell, it’s easier to explain than acting like a lady.
a deeper perspective *[/sub][/i]
loves ,, photography, accents, cold weather, vanilla, sewing, walking at night, ties and waistcoats, typography, old movies, birds.
hates ,, dog-ear folds on book pages, people who microwave tea when it goes cold, germs, badly tailored suits, over-emotional people, trying to cook but failing horribly, cricket, humid weather, public bathrooms, blueberries.
flaws ,, snappy and aggravated because of his sleeping patterns, attention span.
secrets ,, the gender identity disorder and the masochism.
fears ,, being buried alive and being forgotton/forgetting.
quirks ,, keeps a small pouch filled with assorted teas on his person at all times, and he’s a vegetarian.
blood relatives *[/sub]
father ,, charles ; 48 ; military surgeon
mother ,, madeline ; 46 ; housewife
siblings ,, rhode ; 25 ; sas officer ; brother
parental status ,, married.
pets ,, none.
other family ,, none.
other information ,, none.
into the past *[/sub][/i]
charlie was a normal baby, a week or so premature but an average baby nonetheless. his parents adored him, doing the normal parent thing. a father who had already planned out most of his life; he would grow up and become a military man, or a business man for a big corporation, either way he would be a man women would fall madly in love with and men would envy and never match up to. his mother was a protective woman, already clouded with thoughts of her son becoming a tall, handsome young man, just like his brother. he would have a sensible wife and give her a grandchild, just like she expected from her oldest son as well.
high expectations from both his parents. he never paid much mind to it as a young child. when rhode, his big brother, told him to run away or close his eyes and cover his ears when he heard the shouting. it wasn't until he was about five years old that his parents really clued in to the strange habits he had collected.
in kindergarten he had started to hang around the young girls more, and if they refused to be around him, with cruelty that some children have, he'd still rather play alone than with the boys. he picked up my little pony figures instead of toy trucks, picked flowers when the boys stomped around in the mud. his choices in clothing at even such a young age had changed to more feminine styles.
His most attended belonging though, was a sturdy point and shoot film camera Rhode had bought him as soon as he realised Charlie could hold things above his head.
charles, charlie's father, chose to ignore the problem and his son at the same time. he refused to believe that he even had a son let alone what was going on in charlie's life. he only had one son, rhode, charlie didn't exist. even at public events he would avoid any conversations that headed in the direction of a topic about charlie. coming to points where he would even walk away from the people he was talking with. he absolutely refused.
madeline, charlie's mother, became angry. she watched as charlie picked up barbie dolls and danced around the house, a sickening distaste for her son slowly forming in her mouth. it wasn't always this way, at the start she had gently tried to sway his mind set back to a more masculine and boyish ideal, but he never seemed to grasp on. as time went on, his feminine actions and mannerisms became for frequent, and madeline decided to get him seen my a child psychologist.
at age seven, charlie was diagnosed with gender identity disorder. the cause? there were lots of explanations for it that might relate to him and his lifestyle. it was apparent though that it was caused by low self esteem, over protection from one parent when another might be distant, and more or less significant peer rejection. it was after being 'accused' by the child psychologist for what her child had become, as madeline had put it, that the real abuse had been expressed.
whenever charlie tried to touch a doll he would get three hard slaps on the wrist. when he danced around the house or skipped about, a slap across the face. madeline soon became paranoid of the thoughts he was thinking and became over emotional, hardly ever slept, and hit him whenever she pleased. she had charlie transferred to an all-boys school so he couldn't be around other girls. soon though, she decided to drown her restless thoughts in whiskey and any other alcoholic substance she could get her hands on.
every time he was hit, rhode would pull him away and dress the wounds if any were visible, and hold him while he cried.
“when they shout and scream, and mother says terrible things,” he had said one night, after he had knelt down in front of charlie and pulled his full attention “just close your eyes, cover your ears, if you can't see it or hear it, it isn't there”
“some times i might not be able to be there, if that happens, i want you to run away as fast as you can, don't let her hurt you charlie”
the smaller sibling nodded his head. a simple gesture, but a promise nonetheless.
that night, charlie had gone to bed knowing what to do. he would pretend the bad thoughts and pains around him weren't there, he could escape if he wanted to. he could pull himself out of the hornet’s nest of a life he was living, if only for a moment. that night he fell asleep with a small smile on his face.
things had worked out okay for awhile.
until charlie's 12th birthday.
madeline had reached her limit, she couldn’t stand being around her son even as much as to keep him in her house, so she planned to send him off to boarding school. there was an argument over dinner, rhode defending charlie because he couldn’t do it himself, before rhode pulled charlie toward his room.
it took awhile but charlie soon coaxed rhode to calm down, more or less because rhode seemed to realize he was wasting all the time he had left. he fell beside charlie silently, every bit of stress seeming to have been deflated from his tall, lithe body. charlie didn't see how he resembled rhode at all. rhode was tall, had a defined torso and chest, strong arms, deep green-brown eyes and soft black hair. charlie on the other hand was 5'7, small in body mass, anaemic, looked like he could break at any moment, had dark chocolate brown eyes and muddy brown soft locks that never seemed to look neat or tidy. where rhode's skin was flawless, charlie's was milky white with dark brown, out of place, freckles sprinkled over it on his shoulders, the bridge of his nose, and across his collarbone. where rhode's hands were big and coarse across the fingertips, his were small and soft. where rhode's facial structure was strong and refined, his was soft and full of that cursed baby-fat that people considered adorable. where rhode's stomach was defined and toned, his was soft and sickly thin.
where rhode was masculine, charlie was feminine.
“i won’t be able to see you... who's going to protect me now you can't be there for me...?” murmured charlie as some early time in the evening, curled up at rhode's side like a kitten.
“you'll learn to protect yourself, and i'll come see you as often as i can” he said gently, his strong voice seeming a lot more rough in comparison to charlie's light and soft one.
“i'll have no one to talk to.. it'll be painful only being able to talk to you over the phone” he mumbled as rhode turned over and he buried his face into his chest for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
High school wasn't much easier for the boy, the constant abuse from his peers hurt him physically and mentally despite his efforts to ignore them. He had a few people he could consider friends, mainly one girl, he doesn't bring her up much these days. He prefers the memories to be his own.
At his own pace though, Charlie decided he would move to Boucher Academy and study visual art, ideally Photography.
taking into account his fondness for the arts, despite his parents wishes, he intends on pursuing a career in that area.
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