Post by Milo Dearly on Sept 12, 2012 18:52:42 GMT -5
{Milo Dearly}
{Age/School Year: 16/Year 10}
{Faceclaim: Patrick Fugit}
{"I'd like it if you DIDN'T touch me, thanks..."}
{Special Talent/skill inherited from parents: It seems as though he didn't inherit ANYTHING from his parents, but he actually posseses a strong will akin to that of his father and a fairly sweet disposition like his mother. His special talents are his kindness and his dedication.}
{History: For the most part, Milo led a standard childhood; he was raised by a middle-aged couple in a small town, and never had any major troubles or trauma he had to endure (aside from his own personal ones, that is. His mother an overprotective and loving stay-at-home mom and his dad a blunt but hardworking man, it's a mystery as to how he has so many issues in his head. He'd always been a stickler for cleanliness even at a young age and showed a myraid of all sorts of sensory aversions. His mother refused to take him to any psychiatrist, insisting that he was just "a little different", and though his father insisted it was never done. So for many years Milo tried to live life as an average young schoolboy who constantly battled against the sensory processing and germaphobic issues. When he received a letter explaining all that was to happen, Milo was insanely confused and scared-- new environment meant all SORTS of changes, ones he was sure he wouldn't like-- but he was sent away regardless of any protest he put up.}
{Adoptive Family – Tanielle Dearly (mom), Leonardo Dearly (dad)}
{Likes – Being clean, low lights, brown noise, fuzzy blankets, night air, scented candles, showering, books, dogs, writing}
{Dislikes – Dirt, bugs, rust, metal, grass, odd foods, diseases, being sick, bright lights, heat, crowds, loud noises, not knowing, scary things}
{*Has sensory processing disorder (SPD) and mild OCD (the "washer" kind)
* Can have a meltdown if too overstimulated
*Is afraid of EVERYTHING
*Has severe bloodphobia
*Likes to write essays in his spare time}
{"Baby doll, c'mere! There's a letter for you!"
"Huh?" Milo was stunned. He never got letters; maybe ones from school offering some honors society stuff, but never directly to him. "What does it say?"
"Well get over here and see!"
Reluctantly Milo lifted himself from his bed, where he'd been reading a very thick book for a good thirty minutes, and padded nervously over to his mother. He gingerly took the envelope in his hand and quickly tore it open (to avoid having to touch the sticky paste that sealed it down).
He lifted the letter up to eye level and read.
...And the more he read, the more furrowed his brow became, the wider his eyes got, the more knotted his stomach became, and the more his heart pounded.
He was simply at a loss for words and in this panic, he let the paper flutter to the floor, eyes still staring vacantly ahead.
"...Honey?... What did it say...?"
Milo said nothing, frantically wringing his hands together as he gathered his thoughts.
...This CAN'T be happening. It can't! This is hoax, it has to be a hoax.
But, being Milo, he had that feeling in the pit of his gut that tld him that it was, indeed the truth.
"Mom."
"...Yes?"
"I need new earplugs."}
{Age/School Year: 16/Year 10}
{Faceclaim: Patrick Fugit}
{"I'd like it if you DIDN'T touch me, thanks..."}
{Special Talent/skill inherited from parents: It seems as though he didn't inherit ANYTHING from his parents, but he actually posseses a strong will akin to that of his father and a fairly sweet disposition like his mother. His special talents are his kindness and his dedication.}
{History: For the most part, Milo led a standard childhood; he was raised by a middle-aged couple in a small town, and never had any major troubles or trauma he had to endure (aside from his own personal ones, that is. His mother an overprotective and loving stay-at-home mom and his dad a blunt but hardworking man, it's a mystery as to how he has so many issues in his head. He'd always been a stickler for cleanliness even at a young age and showed a myraid of all sorts of sensory aversions. His mother refused to take him to any psychiatrist, insisting that he was just "a little different", and though his father insisted it was never done. So for many years Milo tried to live life as an average young schoolboy who constantly battled against the sensory processing and germaphobic issues. When he received a letter explaining all that was to happen, Milo was insanely confused and scared-- new environment meant all SORTS of changes, ones he was sure he wouldn't like-- but he was sent away regardless of any protest he put up.}
{Adoptive Family – Tanielle Dearly (mom), Leonardo Dearly (dad)}
{Likes – Being clean, low lights, brown noise, fuzzy blankets, night air, scented candles, showering, books, dogs, writing}
{Dislikes – Dirt, bugs, rust, metal, grass, odd foods, diseases, being sick, bright lights, heat, crowds, loud noises, not knowing, scary things}
{*Has sensory processing disorder (SPD) and mild OCD (the "washer" kind)
* Can have a meltdown if too overstimulated
*Is afraid of EVERYTHING
*Has severe bloodphobia
*Likes to write essays in his spare time}
{"Baby doll, c'mere! There's a letter for you!"
"Huh?" Milo was stunned. He never got letters; maybe ones from school offering some honors society stuff, but never directly to him. "What does it say?"
"Well get over here and see!"
Reluctantly Milo lifted himself from his bed, where he'd been reading a very thick book for a good thirty minutes, and padded nervously over to his mother. He gingerly took the envelope in his hand and quickly tore it open (to avoid having to touch the sticky paste that sealed it down).
He lifted the letter up to eye level and read.
...And the more he read, the more furrowed his brow became, the wider his eyes got, the more knotted his stomach became, and the more his heart pounded.
He was simply at a loss for words and in this panic, he let the paper flutter to the floor, eyes still staring vacantly ahead.
"...Honey?... What did it say...?"
Milo said nothing, frantically wringing his hands together as he gathered his thoughts.
...This CAN'T be happening. It can't! This is hoax, it has to be a hoax.
But, being Milo, he had that feeling in the pit of his gut that tld him that it was, indeed the truth.
"Mom."
"...Yes?"
"I need new earplugs."}
