CROSS, fletcher.

[FLETCHER CROSS]

fletcherezekialcross.
what's up, winterthorne? i'm SAV,
and i'm applying to your FANTASTIC
little site. i'm FIFTEEN years young.
i've only been roleplaying for DUNNO years
long, but you can still count on me to be
the RIDICULOUS one.



thissong'sfortheemokids.
( withthepunkrock,rockabillyscreamolids )

name , fletcher ezekial cross.
nicknames , fletch, fletchy.
age and year , sixteen and junior.
sexual preference , homosexual.
birthday , december twenty-first, 'ninety-one.
species , werewolf.
occupation , student.
powers ,

ice manipulation. he has the ability to create and bend ice.
atmokinesis. the ability to manipulate and influence weather.

butdamnyoulookgood.
( andi'mdrunk )

height , five feet seven inches.
weight , one hundred twenty-four pounds.
tattoos and piercings , plugs in his ears. otherwise, nothing.
best feature , those light blue eyes.
general ,

Fletcher has short, spiky, unkempt hair that falls just above his shoulders. Originally black hair, he often dyes it to be a blonde/brown-streaked color. He and his friends like each shade, so no problem there (besides, dying your hair is a way to kill off a good hour or two, and a couple strands of your hair). He has parted it to the side (his right), somehow finding that it gives him a slightly edgy look—which he couldn’t pull off anyway, given that he's a tiny boy. Weighing in at one hundred and twenty-four pounds, he's slim for his height. He’s rather attractive, if he does say so himself, though most people find his fair skin undeniably pale and therefore unsightly. He had always been on the frail side; he was picked on, ridiculed, and beaten. He got his payback, however, as his power and transformation grew; with more years down as a werewolf, his body began to develop the physical needs. Now stronger and more muscular, he took things into his own hands. He usually sticks to jeans and hoodies, sweaters, and long-sleeved shirts. No one really knows why, but he doesn’t like to show his arms.

playby , alex mckee.

littledeathsinmusicalbeds.
( soitseemsi'msomeonei'venevermet! )

likes ,

winter. guys. birds. snow. noodles. laughter. blue. white. reading. puzzles. cute old people. cinnamon. scarves. astronomy. plants.

dislikes ,

liars. driving. romantic movies. cats. spicy food. insects. heights. sweater-vests. screamo. country music. plaid.

strengths ,

good at planning things out.
solving puzzles.
writing.
can withstand low temperatures.

weaknesses ,

dealing with emotions.
heights.
chocolate.
lying.

fears ,

heights.
most other werewolves.
dying.
dying alone.
sweater-vests.

quirks ,

bites his lip.
sings when he’s alone.
always eating chocolate.

secrets ,

father's in jail.
would trade lives with any human.

general ,

dedicated;; Once you set Fletcher to a task, there’s no getting him out of it. He remains focused and dedicated to each thing he does; he sees it through to the end, no matter what. Sometimes it’s out of the good will in his heart, and sometimes it’s just because he’s stubborn (a personality trait that shines through very, very well). If you can tell, props to you.

shy;; Though he puts on the ‘don’t mess with me’ act, Fletcher’s actually the quiet, shy type. He doesn’t particularly like to remain silent, but sometimes out of fear of embarrassment of lack of things to say, he’ll just watch you go along on whatever rant/discussion. You’ll know if he likes you, too—it’s easy to make him blush if he does. Even though he’ll tell you to go ‘fuck off and die’, the pink in his face and the twitch of his lips into a small smile gives him away.

doesn’t trust easily;; Fletch has never trusted people easily. It started mostly out of his parents’ lack of trust in him in that they did not tell him of his true powers until he discovered them on his own. From then on, it was a bit harder to get to know him, a bit harder to talk to Fletcher, a bit harder to get him to let you take him downtown for some coffee [which he isn’t too fond of anyway, so good luck with that].

worrisome;; As much as he’d like to be one of the people who live their life on the edge, Fletcher’s usually worried that he’ll get caught, or someone will get hurt, or something like that. When people bring him on spontaneous [usually dangerous] adventures, it scares the shit out of him, and at the same time gives him a thrill that he loves. Just don’t complain to me when he freezes your ass off for pushing him off a waterfall.

secret-keeper;; For a guy who doesn’t trust easily, a lot of people find it’s easy to trust him. Go figure. He’s a wonderful secret-keeper, and anything you tell him will remain locked up inside him until the day he dies. Unless, of course, the secret endangers the person’s health—like abuse or addiction. Then he’ll tell someone, but after serious consideration.

smart;; Fletcher is actually a pretty smart guy. He knows what the teacher’s talking about for a good deal of time, and though it doesn’t look like he’s paying attention at all, he subtly picks up what the discussion is on. He’s witty as well, when he wants to be. Oh, and sarcasm is a biggie. Cynical, too. Not sure how that fits under smart, but...

idon'tcarewhatyouthink.
( aslongasit'saboutme! )

favorite cereal , cocoa puffs! all that chocolate.
deal or no deal , no deal. D:<
if confronted by the living dead , OH SHIT. RUN.

wordsofwisdomfortheweary.
( seewhogetsitintheend )

hometown , los angeles, california.
family ,

michael cross, the imprisoned father.
carolyn cross, the heartbroken mother.

pets , monster, his blue lovebird.
best memory , seeing and holding emma for the first time.
worst memory , having to decide between parker and andrew.
history ,

Fletcher had been bottling up his rage since he was five years old, and finally let it out at the age of fourteen. He had never had a true family in all of his life. His father, Michael Cross, was caught committing a crime (he still doesn’t know what, his mother refused to tell him) and sentenced to a lifetime in jail when he was only five years old. He remembered in elementary school on parents day his friends would all be saying, “Oh, my dad’s a doctor,” or, “My dad’s a police officer”. He remembered when he looked up, having said, “My dad’s in jail,” and all the eyes were laid on him. He felt as if the whole world had turned around. He was Fletcher Cross—the boy with the father who was in jail, and nothing more.

His mother, Caroline got over her husband’s depart early in her life. Within two months she had begun to date freely, returning every month or so with a different boyfriend, sometimes younger than her by ten years or older by twenty (it was a little rare to have her date someone her own age). When Fletcher was eleven she had begun to date the entire male faculty in his school, changing boyfriends every three weeks. It was never a surprise for him to come home and see his math teacher embracing his mother. His past experiences with love have told him not to try and go into that certain field of emotion again, so he pretty much keeps to himself.

His life turned around when he went through the change (apparently having genes from both his parents—a feat he would have never guessed); he soon found himself a white and light brown werewolf, running at high speeds through the forests, his fur whipping around him. Running was the only thing that kept him alive, the only thing that gave him joy in the world. Fletcher dove into what might have been depression at the news of moving from his home in Vermont (at age fifteen) had it not been for the first time he saw Castle Ayelet. The skies were azure, the trees a rich green, and the snow that coated it all pure white. He couldn’t think of anything else except for the wind through his hair. It wasn’t so bad, was it?

we'rethepartyyou'rethepeople.
( let'smakethisnightaclassic! )

password , UH HUH, HOLY SHIT. READ THE RULES AND GET OFF MY DICK.
sample post , i r admin still.

andthat'swhatmakesmylifesofuckingfantastic.

okay, so this application
is a fusion of our old one and an
application made by AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !?
of blank pages. don't steal, cause
that's RUDE. lyrics go
to A BUNCH OF PEOPLE,
but they're not ours. and, lastly,
don't stretch the board.
it's NOT COOL.

[SAV SAVVINGTON]

i accept myself.
again.


...

;]