Information
Bide_561
Legacy Name: Bide_561
The
Field SheetaOwner: skylerandmurphy
Age: 14 years, 11 months, 1 week
Born: April 5th, 2011
Adopted: 14 years, 6 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: August 21st, 2011
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Glacier
Just some reference for me
My name is Brenden.
But they often call me Love Puppy, or Bide.
I am roughly 24 years old.
My ethnicity is _____.
I'm currently employed in a frozen yogurt shop.
I adore lemons, strawberries, and button collecting.
And I really hatemy girlfriend dogs, limes, and tentacles.
"He's just joking; he loves me. He will always love me"
Delicate hands wrapped around his neck while thin, but strong arms tugged him downwards. A pillow was slammed over his head, trapping him beneath. Mouth gaping in panic fabric was inhaled, not oxygen and he twisted and thrashed frantically, desperate to break free. All was futile, though, and hardly minutes later a limp body was all that was left.
Brenden sat up with a muffled cry, chest heaving. Eyes wide and glazed with the remains of sleep he looked to his side. A pretty young girl with a tangled mess of brunette hair lay there, her fingers intertwined with the bedsheets. Taking a shaky step out of bed Brenden made sure not the wake his sleeping companion as he crept silently out of the room. Closing the door behind him with a soft click he slumped against the hallway wall.
"Just a dream, all it is...," he reassured himself. "Again." This particular nightmare had recently resurfaced after a refreshingly extended absence, made frequent once again. And he had thought he'd finally rid himself of those horrible thoughts. Apparently not.
Running a sweaty hand through his hair Brenden glanced back towards the bedroom door. No doubt his girlfriend was the sole source of his woes, what with her constantly by his side. His friends, full of nothing but good intentions, had offered to rid of her for him, however fearful of what would become of her after they did so he humbly declined. Besides, if anyone but he dealt with the problem his mind would never be a rest, once again proving that he was incapable of doing something for himself.
Heh, afraid of a girl are we?...Father would be ashamed. A sardonic smile played upon his lips. Surely his father would not approve of how he was going about this. Had she ever even harmed him, other than emotionally? Well, yes, but was he man enough to do something about it? No. Those lessons from childhood telling him to never harm a girl kept him from doing so, but surely he could at least beat her down verbally? Sure, he was never one good with words, but how hard could it be to tell someone to stop?
His hand went to his side. That probably would have been the right thing to say, if anything. Ah yes, those cliché scars she made to get him to remember who's in charge. Just the thought of them made him feel utterly pathetic. The word 'LOVE' in big, wobbly lettering had been etched into his side over and over again, until a suitable, visible scar was made.
Brenden scowled. It was like something you'd see happen in a bad movie...or fanfiction. The temptation to achieve revenge in form of carving 'NOTHANKS' in her abdomen was all too great, but he could never bring himself to do it. Even during the times when he quite literally stood looming over her, knife in hand and ready to end his suffering he was stopped by that annoying, sensible portion of his conscious, urging him to not go through with his plans.
Just some reference for me
My name is Brenden.
But they often call me Love Puppy, or Bide.
I am roughly 24 years old.
My ethnicity is _____.
I'm currently employed in a frozen yogurt shop.
I adore lemons, strawberries, and button collecting.
And I really hate
"He's just joking; he loves me. He will always love me"
Delicate hands wrapped around his neck while thin, but strong arms tugged him downwards. A pillow was slammed over his head, trapping him beneath. Mouth gaping in panic fabric was inhaled, not oxygen and he twisted and thrashed frantically, desperate to break free. All was futile, though, and hardly minutes later a limp body was all that was left.
Brenden sat up with a muffled cry, chest heaving. Eyes wide and glazed with the remains of sleep he looked to his side. A pretty young girl with a tangled mess of brunette hair lay there, her fingers intertwined with the bedsheets. Taking a shaky step out of bed Brenden made sure not the wake his sleeping companion as he crept silently out of the room. Closing the door behind him with a soft click he slumped against the hallway wall.
"Just a dream, all it is...," he reassured himself. "Again." This particular nightmare had recently resurfaced after a refreshingly extended absence, made frequent once again. And he had thought he'd finally rid himself of those horrible thoughts. Apparently not.
Running a sweaty hand through his hair Brenden glanced back towards the bedroom door. No doubt his girlfriend was the sole source of his woes, what with her constantly by his side. His friends, full of nothing but good intentions, had offered to rid of her for him, however fearful of what would become of her after they did so he humbly declined. Besides, if anyone but he dealt with the problem his mind would never be a rest, once again proving that he was incapable of doing something for himself.
Heh, afraid of a girl are we?...Father would be ashamed. A sardonic smile played upon his lips. Surely his father would not approve of how he was going about this. Had she ever even harmed him, other than emotionally? Well, yes, but was he man enough to do something about it? No. Those lessons from childhood telling him to never harm a girl kept him from doing so, but surely he could at least beat her down verbally? Sure, he was never one good with words, but how hard could it be to tell someone to stop?
His hand went to his side. That probably would have been the right thing to say, if anything. Ah yes, those cliché scars she made to get him to remember who's in charge. Just the thought of them made him feel utterly pathetic. The word 'LOVE' in big, wobbly lettering had been etched into his side over and over again, until a suitable, visible scar was made.
Brenden scowled. It was like something you'd see happen in a bad movie...or fanfiction. The temptation to achieve revenge in form of carving 'NOTHANKS' in her abdomen was all too great, but he could never bring himself to do it. Even during the times when he quite literally stood looming over her, knife in hand and ready to end his suffering he was stopped by that annoying, sensible portion of his conscious, urging him to not go through with his plans.
Pet Treasure
Pet Friends
Fumble
I am grateful for your offer, however I doubt that will make matters better.