Soren Braswell

[Soren Vincent Braswell]

SOREN BRASWELL

imsostarstruck

NAME:

[/b] Soren Vincent Braswell.
AGE:[/b] Sixteen.
YEAR: Sophomore.
GENDER: Male.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual. Basically, if you have a pulse, he'll get with you.
CELEBRITY CLAIM: Tom Nicon.


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somebodycuteandfunny

FAMILY:

Father: Jarrett Adam Braswell (44)
Older brother: August Max Braswell (22)

Mother: Clara Atchley Haddock (44)
Step-father: Jeffrey Don "Jeff" Haddock (50)
Younger brother: Dominic Matthieu Haddock (5)
Younger brother: Casper Eamon Haddock (5)

HISTORY:

I guess you could say I'm your classic problem child. Didn't start out that way, though. Then again, does anyone start out a problem?

I was born Soren Vincent Braswell on March 3rd, 1997 in Seattle, Washington to my Dad, Jarrett, and my Mom, Clara. My parents were unmarried, though they'd been together forever. At the time my older brother August was seven, already a mini version of my dad. They were a funny couple, Dad covered about head to toe in tattoos and Mom looking like your average young woman who didn't have a niche like that. Dad was always a good man; he loved August and me more than anything in the world. But he wasn't always around. He'd work odd jobs seemingly all over the country, sometimes away from home for months at a time, living with other equally tattooed friends that we called our uncles and Mom didn't seem to like that much. I can't say I blamed her.

For the majority of my third and fourth years, Dad was across the country in Baltimore a lot, working with people there, while Mom took care of me and August mostly by herself, living off of checks sent home by my dad. But then, she wasn't home a ton, either. August raised me at least half the time when I was a toddler, barely a middle schooler himself when he assumed the role of man of the house and my primary caregiver. Because I'll be honest-- the babysitters Mom got to hang out with us, often deadbeat friends of hers, weren't all that good with kids.

When I was six, Dad moved back to Seattle somewhat permanently, and that's when the fighting started, the fighting that sufficiently traumatized little me. Through closed doors, August and I could hear the yelling at night, too young to hear what they were saying but getting it anyway. Dad had apparently come home to find that Mom was seeing another man, someone Mom apparently found to be higher-class, just better than him. I'd sit on my side of our little bedroom long after everyone had calmed down and gone to sleep, often beside myself because I knew all about divorce, or so my five year old self thought. My friends' parents had done it. I was all too familiar with the heartbreak. But the pseudo-divorce took a while to actually happen.

Mom and Dad didn't decide to try to fix things; rather, they dragged out their split-up for weeks, fighting all the time with us down the hall, talking bad about each other to us. One morning, when Mom was out, presumably with her new boyfriend, Dad packed up some of our stuff and drove us for a few hours out of Seattle, with me crying in the backseat and August demanding that he tell him where we were going. By the time we stopped at an unfamiliar apartment that belonged to one of Dad's friends, August had explained to me what was probably going on, that Dad had essentially kidnapped us to get us away from Mom and her boyfriend. As you would expect, the police were called, but because Mom and Dad both had full custody of us, being that they were still technically a couple, so all law enforcement could do was track us down and order Dad to bring us back to Seattle.

Unsurprisingly, that was the end of the relationship. But as soon as Dad moved out, when I was seven, Mom's boyfriend, Jeff, moved in, and August made an executive decision, asking if we could go live with Dad. Mom accepted, though she clearly wasn't thrilled, and for the next year and a half, that is where we remained. I could easily tell you those were the best years of my life; Dad was good to us, always made sure we were taken care of, and when he was working, we were left with his fun friends. That's not to say either of my parents were inherently better at taking care of us, but we certainly enjoyed it more. Of course, like all good things in our life, it had to end.

It was when I was almost nine that my mother filed for full custody, citing the sort-of kidnapping and the fact that my dad had been in the drug world years earlier. It took ages, over a year, to be exact, but she eventually got what she wanted shortly after she married Jeff, and we were left with only supervised visits with Dad. Shortly after we moved back in, Mom got pregnant with my younger brothers.

August and I soon learned that Jeff was not a fan of us. He was pretty open about how he found us to be little hoodlums because we were descended from a heavily tattooed man who had taken us away from our mother once before. We were often berated for our mistakes, for forgetting to do chores, for being unruly young men, you name it. In January of 2008, the twins, Dominic and Casper, were born, and our stepfather only got worse from there, almost ignoring August and me if he could focus on his own sons. I loved Dom and Cas to death, but it was just too much for me to handle.

It was later that year, shortly after August moved out, actually, that I lost it. I'd been unruly for years, honestly, hated listening to people, especially after Mom and Jeff got married, but that is when it got to a boiling point. And telling people the story now, I couldn't tell you what was going through my mind but rage. Pure, fiery anger. It had to come out somehow. I started going off on Mom and Jeff and my teachers and my classmates, anyone who happened to be around. I'd scream and curse and just about explode when I was angry. Honestly, the only people I didn't go off on were Dad and August, but I didn't see them enough to correct the behavior, which further worsened it.

But the screaming wasn't enough. I started getting violent. Thankfully I tended to have the presence of mind to never lay a finger on Dom and Cas, and generally I didn't tend to directly harm people. I threw things, often things that would break, kicked and punched walls, when I was angry it was an explosion. My Dad even offered to take me, knowing Mom had babies in the house, but she refused, saying she could handle it. So we went to a behavioral therapist, but all I did was get worse. Jeff tried his best to discipline me, but that aggravated the problem, as well. He wasn't my father, and he was acting like he was. And that wasn't going to fly.

Finally, Mom and Jeff couldn't handle me anymore, and I was sent to a group home for boys with behavioral problems, this when I was about thirteen. All the other kids were from 12 to 17 years old as well, and unsurprisingly, it was a terrible situation. The caregivers were abusive; emotionally, physically, and some of us even sexually. I bet you can guess that I was one of those unfortunate boys, given my overall luck. It was one of the caregivers in particular that was like that to me, though he only forced me to do things for him on occasion. Usually it was just the touching. They let me leave after a year, by the end of middle school, and I did, a hardened, traumatized young man.

Of course, Jeff didn't want me home, so he convinced my mom that it would be a good idea to send me to boarding school. When I was fourteen I was sent to an academy for "normal" youth, and nothing good came of the trip. I got into parties and all the sex, drugs, and alcohol that came along with them. I could say the sexual experiences were by far my favorite, taking my power back after being violated. I was still defiant and didn't enjoy listening to authority, unfortunately, and at the end of the year, my parents were informed that I was no longer welcome back. But that couldn't end the boarding school adventures, of course not. Instead, it was off to the newest idea, and San Francisco.

asillysongaboutyou

APPEARANCE:

Soren is a good sized boy, about 5'11" and surely not done growing, and weighs about 150 pounds, so he doesn't physically stand out too much. He has thick, dark brown hair, nearly black, and he has a good amount of it. His eyes are too a very dark brown, and despite his dark features Soren himself is very pale.

As far as clothing, Soren likes to look sharp, and he's not shy to admit it, either. He likes his collared shirts and jackets, but otherwise, he's not too particular about clothes. He has a collection of various scars and fading bruises from repeated abuse at his group home, usually on his upper arms and back.

LIKES:

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-His older brother and father, who always get how he's feeling.
-Sex, even just physical affection in general. He knows he's still young to like it all so much, but he wouldn't deny it.
-Drugs and alcohol. He's still relatively new to this world, but any kind of escape, he's taking it.
-Being away from home.
-Being in control of his situation.
-Parties.
-Anything that means he's breaking the rules. He can't stand being told what to do.

DISLIKES:

-His stepfather.
-Being forced into anything.
-Group homes, any kind of center for troubled youth like the one he was in.
-Therapists.
-Bigots.
-Abuse.
-Being controlled.

FEARS:

-Not being allowed to be a part of his younger brothers' lives.
-Being alone.
-Someday having a family he's not allowed to see.
-Being abused again.

SECRET:

-He was abused in his group home over a year when he was thirteen and fourteen.
-He still carries the trauma of being in the home, though he isn't open about it at all.

GOAL:

-To someday be successful in some way.
-To find someone he can trust and spend his life with.

MENTIONABLES:

-His behavioral problems aren't what they were, but he can still behave erratically and get a bit violent when he's provoked. Angry Soren is incredibly unpleasant, and it doesn't take a whole lot to get him there.

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shutmyplayboymouth

EXPERIENCE: Five years.
TIMEZONE:

[/b] Eastern.
CHARACTERS: Leo Lucia, Brooks Robertson, Jonah Ashworth, Zephyr Liakos.
FOUND: Le google.
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credits go to tweekPOP ! of CAUTION 2.0 <3

[Anna Marie Smith]

Accepted