charles j. elliott
Ah, sometimes I grow so tired But I know I've got one thing I got to do Ramble on And now's the time
full name charles james elliott
nickname No Information
pronouns he/him/his
occupation grocery clerk
face claim louis tomlinson
birthday No Information
romantic/ sexual orientation No Information
relationship status No Information
alignment No Information
zodiac No Information
mbti No Information
trigger warning for mentions of depression and suicide

Charles' beginning was nothing out of the ordinary. There was no scandal behind his coming to be, no issues with his birth (on the 22nd of February). He cried when he needed something, he pulled hair and learned how to walk and talk and stick out his tongue. His parents insisted he wasn't a bad boy, he was just busy. Busy pushing other kids on the playground and refusing to share his toy cars. His daycare became his means of discipline once his mother went back to work and he needed the care. It takes a village to raise a child and all that.

Elementary school was much better for him than daycare had been. He had a better grasp of not being the only person who mattered. He got along with other kids and talked more than he did work. But he still liked to bug people more than he liked to play quietly and get along. He was too young to like girls or understand much about them, but it didn't stop him from peaking up from under the monkeybars when he'd see one climbing about in a dress. When he went to high school school it hadn't been discussed with his teacher than he had been CJ up until now. He knew he was Charles, but he also knew he was never called Charles. But he liked it. It made him feel important, and he liked to feel important. He refused (and still refuses) to be called anything but.

His fascination with girls only got worse as he hit puberty and got The Talk. Most girls he knew had known him for years, though, and thought he was funny when he was bugging people other than them but didn't want a thing to do with him. They'd fallen victim to him tugging on their braids and stealing their pretty strappy shoes too many times. It wasn't that he wanted them to dislike him, it was simply his own mother's words working against him. Hell, he'd heard it from more than his mother. He could have sworn he'd heard a million times that pestering girls was how you showed them you liked them. But for reasons unknown to him it never seemed to work and so he gave up, put his focus more on soccer even though he wasn't the best at it. It didn't get him sent to the office at least.

Soccer came to be how he first found out about is power. The girls who originally wanted nothing to do with him always showed interest when he first got off the field. They'd chat him up and flirt and giggle until he finally could escape to shower, and suddenly he was just annoying Charles all over again. It took a couple months before he figured it out, and another year before it wasn't just reliant on him being sweaty. Girls that normally wouldn't give him much beyond a smile and polite conversation couldn't get enough. He knew it was wrong, but he reasoned that it wasn't like he was forcing them. He just smelled really really good and so they'd hang around, they'd give him a chance, and more often than not that chance was in their pants. Who was he to say no to it?

He had a couple relationships through it all, girls that stayed around after it all because they liked him for more than the pheromones he produced. But he was still annoying Charles, and these girls eventually got tired of it all. Sure, it hurt, but he always had his backup plan of smelling super good for new girls. It was during one of these rebound adventures that he met someone who changed the entire game for him.

It wasn't that he fell in love, not in the sense one would think. It would have been sweet, having been approached by a girl while he was smoking and wasn't even trying to attract anyone, being able to tell the story of how she complimented his Led Zeppelin shirt and went on to tell him how she was named Kashmir after the song. He thinks about it now and thinks it would have been a great story to tell at a wedding, probably held in a field where everyone was barefoot, how he hadn't even been looking when The One fell in to his life while he was waiting for a friend to go clubbing. But Charles was who he's always been, and so he ended up making sure he smelled extra nice when he asked Kashmir where she was going and what she was doing that night. He likes to reason that once they were dancing he left it all up to fate, but sweat still works just the same regardless of if he wants it to or not.

He remembers being too drunk to have sex. He also remembers making up for it in the morning. He remembers how they were still a little out of it from the night before, sharing a joint and going back to sleep after it all. He remembers her still being there, and her coming back there as his girlfriend, and he definitely remembers her telling him she was pregnant and it was most definitely his. Charles had never expected to be a dad, but the idea of it wasn't something he was against. He liked Kashmir enough, and he figured if it all went to hell he'd just take off. Guys did that all the time.

Sydney Mayhem Elliott came screaming in to the world on a cold January evening, and Charles had never heard anything more beautiful in his life. He loved Kashmir, in his own way, but Sydney was his everything the first second he saw him. After a brief hospital stay he brought mom and babe home, and everything seemed to be working out as good as it could for two young parents. He didn't mind changing diapers and he didn't mind late night feedings, although Kashmir really did. Charles didn't get why she was so upset that she couldn't breastfeed their son, a lot of people were entirely against it, but Kashmir always made a fuss over it like it was wrong. When Sydney was two months she'd stopped producing entirely, and when Sydney was three months she went missing in the middle of the night. She was pulled from the Chicago River five hours after he'd made a missing person report. The combination of postpartum depression and an inability to breastfeed, something the nurses and other mothers had insisted was the only way, had gotten to be too much.

It was difficult at first. He felt guilty for not doing something about it, but he knew it wouldn't help his son if he allowed himself to feel as miserable as he did. He moved back home for a a few months until he felt he could trust someone else looking after his son while he was at work. But they found a routine and got back in to an apartment, a Mancave for himself and his little man.
joined wats on 4-February 17 total posts 70 posts last post made Sep 4 2017, 08:47 PM last active Sep 6 2017, 12:47 AM

played by leesha

idc 24 pacific

WE ARE THE STRAYS is a character driven, slice of life roleplay with gifted abilities, set in present day Chicago, IL. We do not have a word count or character limits, and we have a profile application and shipper to offer optimal room for creative freedom. We have a number of varied and easy to use templates for members to use, and we have relaxed rules on activity so that roleplaying here can be a hobby, not a chore. We prioritize diversity and inclusiveness, and we want this to be an inviting and comfortable environment where everyone feels safe and accepted!

Please register in all lowercase, first m. last format: james b. barnes

toggle cbox
launch cbox link
are we quiet? try discord!
launch icc link
chicago in-character chat