puck e. rogers
played by sparky she/her gmt-5 registered 6-June 16 last online Jun 18 2018, 01:30 AM last posted Apr 12 2018, 10:48 PM
He was born Ellison Anthony Rogers, and grew up in the downtown area of Detroit, Michigan. Most people called his neighborhood trashy and dangerous. Ellis just called it home. He didn't mind it, really. All the history, all the street art, the colorful language and interesting people. It was a learning experience all it's own. His mother was a high school English teacher, his father owned a little convenience store on the corner, passed down by his father, and his grandfather before him. Things were simple, even when money was tight, they managed to get by alright on their own. There was always food on the table, the heat never went out. They were never particularly blessed in money or material possessions. But they had love in spades. So maybe Ellis wanted for some things. He never had the newest handheld games that everyone raved about. Or got to go on wild summer vacations. But his family was always there for him.

The gifted community came forward when Ellis was starting high school. Understandably, some people were wary of it. The idea of people with super powers roaming the streets, unregulated, unsupervised. But Ellis never understood what all the fuss was really about. They had always been there. The only difference was, people could see them now. But plenty of people disagreed with that philosophy. He watched his neighbors be criminalized, drove out of town by angry, frightened people. People like his own father, who would frown deeply every time a story hit the news about a gifted robbing a convenience store similar to his own, and spit at the feet of people blatantly using their powers in the streets. Ellis remembers a moment where a correspondent on the news station was comparing the backlash to the desegregation of schools in the sixties, and the way his father had reacted. So violently. So angrily. It set things on edge around the home. He and his brother, Christopher, knew better than to utter a word about it under their roof.

Ellis was a whiz in school. He aced most subjects, took on honors classes, extra credits, and advanced placement by the time he was sixteen. Everyone knew one day he'd go on to be a doctor or an engineer. Something impressive. Something that would get him out of their rundown neighborhood, and would make his mother proud. But sixteen was also when things started going awry for Ellis. In ways he wasn't entirely sure how to describe. And that he would never want to bring up at home. It started out simple. Things like the sensation of floating while he was falling asleep. A feeling of weightlessness when he would jump to try and touch the rim of the risted basketball hoop in their driveway. He never thought much of it. Until he woke up hovering three feet off his mattress in the middle of the night for the first time. He'd tried to explain it away as a bizarre dream. But the occurrences seemed to pop up more and more frequently. He would involuntarily hover just above his seat at his computer desk while doing homework. Or suddenly be inches away from the ground when trying to reach for the variety pack of chips on top of the refrigerator. He'd thought maybe he could fly at one point. But a trip to the emergency room after jumping off the roof had disproved that theory fairly quickly. Levitation. Albeit randomly occuring at the time. But levitation nonetheless.

He had hoped that having powers of his own might bring his parents around. That maybe they'd learn to accept that some people were different if their own son was one of them. He had only just resolved to tell them all at the celebratory dinner after his high school graduation, when shit hit the fan and things got ugly at home. His father had always been antagonistic towards the gifted that would, in his words, flaunt their abilities like they ran the world now. But Ellis had never seen him attack someone physically before. He'd knock their things to the ground, spit on their shoes. But this was different. This was feral. He sent the man to the hospital. And himself to the city jail. And even though his father had never once laid a hand on him, Ellis felt truly unsafe in his own home for the first time. That abundance of love that his parents had always held for their children, suddenly didn't seem like enough to keep him safe.

He left a week after graduating. His father was still in trouble, being charged with assault and battery. His mother was distracted, trying to deal with lawyers and money. Christopher was keeping the convenience store afloat in their father's absence. And Ellis just sort of slipped between the cracks. He couldn't stay. He wouldn't be able to hide his powers forever. And he knew that they would never accept him for what he was. He'd be another freak of nature. Another threat to their livelihoods. And he would rather disappear and remember them as the family that loved him, than accept that fate willingly. He threw his clothes and a few personal belongings into a duffel bag, rounded up every bit of cash he had saved over the years from Christmases and birthdays and delivering groceries. And he took the first bus he could out of state.

Instead of doing something amazing with himself after high school, Ellis became Puck. It was what his friends in the drama club had called him after their freshman year rendition of A Midsummer Night's Dream. And it was just about the only thing he could think to call himself when the girl sitting next to him on the bus had asked his name. After that it stuck. Six months down the line, somewhere on the Jersey shore, he changed it legally. Puck Ellison Rogers. It felt fitting for this new life he was leading, this new person he was becoming. The next few years were spent in different places, traveling aimlessly, working odd jobs, doing what he could to survive, tagging building sides for fun. Learning life lessons in the rundown neighborhoods of cities that reminded him too much of home.

Chicago wasn't a calculated move. None of his moves have been since he left home at eighteen. He'd just gotten tired of Jersey. And then Nashville. And then Austin. Puck was constantly on the move. Constantly trying to find his place in the world. And constantly coming up short. He didn't have a car, and pocket money from his last job only got him so far. After that he'd found himself with his thumb stuck out at the side of the road, and climbing into the cab of a semi with an attractive looking blonde behind the wheel. She asked him where he was going, he said "North." And that was the end of that. Chicago was the end of the line. And deciding it was plenty north enough for him, Puck put a pin in the map and called it his new home.

A Craigslist ad for a new roommate is what found him settling into a house full of strangers that came and went without much notice. Puck needed a place to go, they needed someone to help pay rent. And it seemed like a fair enough deal. It took a bit of adjustment. The room wasn't even really a room. It was a sheet hung across the basement to give the illusion of privacy. And the roommates were all odd in their own right. But it didn't really take long for Puck to realize that these were his people. Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys. The outcasts and oddballs of the world drawn together under one roof, with pot plants, and grouchy dogs, and music that was always playing a fraction too loud. It felt like home. Not like Detroit. Not like his parent's place. But home, still. He felt like he belonged.

So it's been almost two years now. And it's probably the longest he's stayed in one place in a very long time. The wall parallel to the room divider is an ever changing mural of loud colors, accented with Christmas lights, and odd thrift store tapestries meant to help block out the noise. He's working full-time at a Wal-Mart now. It's probably one of the least glamorous jobs he's ever had, honestly. But the stories he has to tell after a shift almost make it worth it. Almost. Puck's also really embraced his inner artist since settling into his space in the house. Although he's still content to tag building sides for fun in his spare time, he has taken to less illegal art forms, too, thanks to inspiration from his roommates. Drawing and painting, mostly. He carries sharpies with him anywhere he goes and likes to doodle up and down his own arms in moments of boredom. There are piles of wasted sketchbooks littering his bedroom floor, filled with doodles and half-baked ideas that came to him while he was too high to realize they were actually really fucking stupid. He's honestly probably got a lot of talent. It might get him somewhere if he bothered to apply himself. But he hasn't really since he left home six years ago. And he's kind of afraid to at this point.

full name

puck ellison rogers








wal-mart employee




21 February 1993

romantic/sexual orientation


relationship status

??? ask again later


No Information





face claim

keiynan lonsdale
don't feel like picking up my phone, so leave a message at the tone, 'cause today i swear i'm not doing anything
launch cbox. seem quiet? try our discord!