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Post by Xandir Blake on Mar 4, 2014 11:08:25 GMT -6
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XANDIR, RICHMOND, BLAKE
TWENTY-THREE//MALE//HOMOSEXUAL//INTANGIBILITY//BARTENDER//NOEL FIELDING
POWER INFO:
Xandir has the ability to "phase" through solid matter. "I'm madcap and intangible." is how he'll often introduce himself as.
In short, Xandir has the ability to walk, run, crawl, fall and climb through solid matter while ignoring most physical effects. This includes living things such as people and animals. He'll describe the experience as something not unlike slipping partially into other dimensions. As though he is able to make his own atoms move between other atoms, being a non-physical being of energy.
He is also able to - if he concentrates hard enough - make other objects, and people, phase with him, as long as he is making direct contact with it, or them. Eg: holding someones hand as they walk through a brick wall. It's a little trickier with people, but it certainly can be done. It'll only hurt if you struggle - kidding! But seriously, just go with it.
Of course this gift comes with it's drawbacks; getting stuck being one of the worst that can happen. You do not want that! The thicker the object, the more risky the process is, and the more concentration is required. Of course, Xandir being Xandir, having the attention span of a bookshelf, he needs all the concentration he can get.
]XANDIR, RICHMOND, BLAKE
TWENTY-THREE//MALE//HOMOSEXUAL//INTANGIBILITY//BARTENDER//NOEL FIELDING
POWER INFO:
Xandir has the ability to "phase" through solid matter. "I'm madcap and intangible." is how he'll often introduce himself as.
In short, Xandir has the ability to walk, run, crawl, fall and climb through solid matter while ignoring most physical effects. This includes living things such as people and animals. He'll describe the experience as something not unlike slipping partially into other dimensions. As though he is able to make his own atoms move between other atoms, being a non-physical being of energy.
He is also able to - if he concentrates hard enough - make other objects, and people, phase with him, as long as he is making direct contact with it, or them. Eg: holding someones hand as they walk through a brick wall. It's a little trickier with people, but it certainly can be done. It'll only hurt if you struggle - kidding! But seriously, just go with it.
Of course this gift comes with it's drawbacks; getting stuck being one of the worst that can happen. You do not want that! The thicker the object, the more risky the process is, and the more concentration is required. Of course, Xandir being Xandir, having the attention span of a bookshelf, he needs all the concentration he can get.
GENERAL APPEARANCE:
Xandir certainly has his own style, for sure. There is a fairly specific way he'll describe his hair. Firstly; it is not to be touched. His inky black tresses are for his hands only! Thank you. For a couple of years now, he has grown it around his face and shoulders. It is a basic back-combed structure, cheeky fringe, ridden with product that will not only give it volume, but a beautiful healthy shine. The kind of hair color models have, minus the slow-mo hair flick. Though he'd love to be able to do that too.
His eyes have been described as looking like an owls, or a bush baby. They are impossibly large, though with his high cheekbones, and very large pointed nose, giving him the appearance of a strange man-witch, they suit him. The pupils are described as a power blue/grey color depending on certain lighting.
He's on the short-side for a guy, standing at roughly 5’6” with a lean, slightly wiry build. Runs in the family, the skinny bitch.
His creamy colored skin bears no tattoos. It's not because he doesn't want any, but he's so damn undecided on what he wants. One minute he'll want something like an infinity symbol on his wrist, or a dream catcher behind his ear. A few weeks ago he came so very close to getting a tattoo of the Boost Juice logo on his right ass cheek it's not even funny. Come to think about it, he was that inebriated he may have actually gotten it, he's just too scared to check.
Piercing's he's got for sure. Two nipple rings, his tongue, and a *ahem* Prince Albert. The latter he actually wasn't drunk for, just says it looks pretty.
A burn scar marks the back of his left upper thigh. His dad sat him upon a hot stove when he was just a toddler.
MUST HAVE APPAREL:
Xandir enjoys dressing like a bit of a freak - like an art student, which ironically, is what he studies. Ever since he was little, he has always been obsessed with clothes. He says that people like Mick Jagger and David Bowie, during his Ziggy Stardust years, inspire him; stylish, effeminate men.
Xandir has a strong feminine aspect to his attire, and has even admitted to actually enjoy wearing dresses sometimes; at the supermarket, or when he wants to play "dress up" before going out on the town. This is due to his androgynous dress sense, which commonly includes drainpipe jeans, boots with heels, faux-fur, leopard skin jackets, and sparkly jewelry. He's as comfortable shopping somewhere high-street stores as he is in thrift stores. He actually loves thrift stores with a passion; you never know what little treasures you will find.
PERSONALITY:
To begin with, I - the writer - would like to introduce to you a glance at a few snippets of information on my "delightful" character Xandir.
He has ADD. At least that's what the lady in the chemist said. It isn't a disorder, it's a different order, and he likes it. He says that his mind multi-tasks. Someone may tell him that the sky is blue because of the reflection of the ocean on the atmosphere. He'd be like, well what if the ocean was made of cherry kool-aid, and put together all of these different scenarios. To him, it's a gift. As long as you use it correctly, you're gonna get far. Never put yourself down for what you have, or what you don't have because as long as you're being yourself, utilizing what you're given, you'll get far.
Xandir will play in leaves, hop around like a goofy weirdo, roll down hills wearing nothing but a top hat and pink undies... just for "funsies". He has a ‘run-between-the-raindrops’ quality about him, giving him the ability to land on his feet in the most difficult of situations. He is somewhat of a golden boy, has a pretty small, yet interesting collection of friends, and is open and brotherly to almost everyone that he interacts with; he’ll treat whoever he meets as if he’s known them his whole life. He can get riled rather easily if he feels jealous over something, and will do anything to win back a favor.
Allot of people may say that they are undecided whether Xandir is incredibly stupid or incredibly smart. Most lean towards the latter. Xandir always seems to have a permanent smirk in his voice. He has a tendency to grandiosity, over-excited about many things, hyperactive and giddy, his enthusiasm is infectious; you do find yourself getting swept up and even cheering for him, even if you don't always agree with him. He has a very relaxed outlook on life, living with perpetually laid back ease, and socializing easily with those around him.
Xandir is often the voice of reason in a situation, although he has also been known to have a particularly naive and somewhat childlike outlook on life. It is often implied that Xandir is narcissistic, putting great pride in his appearance. He'll usually conform to specific subcultures which he considers vogue, adapting them to fit his androgynous dandyesque appearance.
He is very optimistic. A friend of his once commented that if he saw a peanut, he’d think the day would be off on a good start.
He is considered pretty weird, with a very idiosyncratic taste. Another one of Xandir's gifts is his ability to see his weirdness as having a friendly face. He tends to say what's on his mind; his subconscious is very close to the surface, and wishes to reintroduce a sense of magic, of the fantastic into society.
Those who know him well will know that Xandir has probably never displayed humility. Though once out of his comfort zone, it doesn't take long for Xandir to turn from stubborn, over-dramatic and a little egocentric, to being read as lost, confused, frightened, and a little bit cautiously optimistic, like he has no idea what is happening. If asked something he is unsure of, he will nod his head with confidence, and then say no.
Xandir tends to buzz off his friends, and off of having company. After all, you can only play video games only so many hours in a day. Xander and boredom just don't mix very well at all. His imagination starts to run amok, and although he does enjoy his own company, he'll go stir-crazy if he is on his own for too long. He does notice that there seems to be a certain kind of role at times between himself and friends. Family too. For example when his mother grows tired of his madcap shenanigans, she'll hand bowl him to one of his friends, like babysitting. They're all pretty much on the same brain-wave as far as idiosyncrasies go, but Xandir finds they're often assuming the role of the "grown-up". All "Tsk. Gotta keep an eye on Xandir. He's not even facing the right way."
He doesn't mind. Although he does have moments where he'll wonder, at twenty-three, with ADD, does even being himself become a bit too much for others to deal with.
Once you get close to him you might notice that he is inwardly a bit of a vulnerable young man. He has always been the sort of person who’ll march to the beat of his own drum. He is pretty open to almost everyone that he interacts with; very open person in most cases, and only secretive when necessary. One of his biggest and worst kept secrets in Highschool was that he is gay. There were always rumors, and haters but only a very few of his closest friends knew the truth for certain. He officially came out shortly after graduation, got a huge "DUH" in response, and went about his life. Sure, he comes across as rather flamboyant at times. But most people just seem to think that's just his thing.
EXTRA QUIRK:
He never ever wears matching socks.
Xandir certainly has his own style, for sure. There is a fairly specific way he'll describe his hair. Firstly; it is not to be touched. His inky black tresses are for his hands only! Thank you. For a couple of years now, he has grown it around his face and shoulders. It is a basic back-combed structure, cheeky fringe, ridden with product that will not only give it volume, but a beautiful healthy shine. The kind of hair color models have, minus the slow-mo hair flick. Though he'd love to be able to do that too.
His eyes have been described as looking like an owls, or a bush baby. They are impossibly large, though with his high cheekbones, and very large pointed nose, giving him the appearance of a strange man-witch, they suit him. The pupils are described as a power blue/grey color depending on certain lighting.
He's on the short-side for a guy, standing at roughly 5’6” with a lean, slightly wiry build. Runs in the family, the skinny bitch.
His creamy colored skin bears no tattoos. It's not because he doesn't want any, but he's so damn undecided on what he wants. One minute he'll want something like an infinity symbol on his wrist, or a dream catcher behind his ear. A few weeks ago he came so very close to getting a tattoo of the Boost Juice logo on his right ass cheek it's not even funny. Come to think about it, he was that inebriated he may have actually gotten it, he's just too scared to check.
Piercing's he's got for sure. Two nipple rings, his tongue, and a *ahem* Prince Albert. The latter he actually wasn't drunk for, just says it looks pretty.
A burn scar marks the back of his left upper thigh. His dad sat him upon a hot stove when he was just a toddler.
MUST HAVE APPAREL:
Xandir enjoys dressing like a bit of a freak - like an art student, which ironically, is what he studies. Ever since he was little, he has always been obsessed with clothes. He says that people like Mick Jagger and David Bowie, during his Ziggy Stardust years, inspire him; stylish, effeminate men.
Xandir has a strong feminine aspect to his attire, and has even admitted to actually enjoy wearing dresses sometimes; at the supermarket, or when he wants to play "dress up" before going out on the town. This is due to his androgynous dress sense, which commonly includes drainpipe jeans, boots with heels, faux-fur, leopard skin jackets, and sparkly jewelry. He's as comfortable shopping somewhere high-street stores as he is in thrift stores. He actually loves thrift stores with a passion; you never know what little treasures you will find.
PERSONALITY:
To begin with, I - the writer - would like to introduce to you a glance at a few snippets of information on my "delightful" character Xandir.
He has ADD. At least that's what the lady in the chemist said. It isn't a disorder, it's a different order, and he likes it. He says that his mind multi-tasks. Someone may tell him that the sky is blue because of the reflection of the ocean on the atmosphere. He'd be like, well what if the ocean was made of cherry kool-aid, and put together all of these different scenarios. To him, it's a gift. As long as you use it correctly, you're gonna get far. Never put yourself down for what you have, or what you don't have because as long as you're being yourself, utilizing what you're given, you'll get far.
Xandir will play in leaves, hop around like a goofy weirdo, roll down hills wearing nothing but a top hat and pink undies... just for "funsies". He has a ‘run-between-the-raindrops’ quality about him, giving him the ability to land on his feet in the most difficult of situations. He is somewhat of a golden boy, has a pretty small, yet interesting collection of friends, and is open and brotherly to almost everyone that he interacts with; he’ll treat whoever he meets as if he’s known them his whole life. He can get riled rather easily if he feels jealous over something, and will do anything to win back a favor.
Allot of people may say that they are undecided whether Xandir is incredibly stupid or incredibly smart. Most lean towards the latter. Xandir always seems to have a permanent smirk in his voice. He has a tendency to grandiosity, over-excited about many things, hyperactive and giddy, his enthusiasm is infectious; you do find yourself getting swept up and even cheering for him, even if you don't always agree with him. He has a very relaxed outlook on life, living with perpetually laid back ease, and socializing easily with those around him.
Xandir is often the voice of reason in a situation, although he has also been known to have a particularly naive and somewhat childlike outlook on life. It is often implied that Xandir is narcissistic, putting great pride in his appearance. He'll usually conform to specific subcultures which he considers vogue, adapting them to fit his androgynous dandyesque appearance.
He is very optimistic. A friend of his once commented that if he saw a peanut, he’d think the day would be off on a good start.
He is considered pretty weird, with a very idiosyncratic taste. Another one of Xandir's gifts is his ability to see his weirdness as having a friendly face. He tends to say what's on his mind; his subconscious is very close to the surface, and wishes to reintroduce a sense of magic, of the fantastic into society.
Those who know him well will know that Xandir has probably never displayed humility. Though once out of his comfort zone, it doesn't take long for Xandir to turn from stubborn, over-dramatic and a little egocentric, to being read as lost, confused, frightened, and a little bit cautiously optimistic, like he has no idea what is happening. If asked something he is unsure of, he will nod his head with confidence, and then say no.
Xandir tends to buzz off his friends, and off of having company. After all, you can only play video games only so many hours in a day. Xander and boredom just don't mix very well at all. His imagination starts to run amok, and although he does enjoy his own company, he'll go stir-crazy if he is on his own for too long. He does notice that there seems to be a certain kind of role at times between himself and friends. Family too. For example when his mother grows tired of his madcap shenanigans, she'll hand bowl him to one of his friends, like babysitting. They're all pretty much on the same brain-wave as far as idiosyncrasies go, but Xandir finds they're often assuming the role of the "grown-up". All "Tsk. Gotta keep an eye on Xandir. He's not even facing the right way."
He doesn't mind. Although he does have moments where he'll wonder, at twenty-three, with ADD, does even being himself become a bit too much for others to deal with.
Once you get close to him you might notice that he is inwardly a bit of a vulnerable young man. He has always been the sort of person who’ll march to the beat of his own drum. He is pretty open to almost everyone that he interacts with; very open person in most cases, and only secretive when necessary. One of his biggest and worst kept secrets in Highschool was that he is gay. There were always rumors, and haters but only a very few of his closest friends knew the truth for certain. He officially came out shortly after graduation, got a huge "DUH" in response, and went about his life. Sure, he comes across as rather flamboyant at times. But most people just seem to think that's just his thing.
EXTRA QUIRK:
He never ever wears matching socks.
FATHER:
Barty is a hard to get to know fellow, tall, blonde, and barrel-chested, he is nothing like Xandir in both appearance and personality. He was twenty when Xandir was born, and has now worked as a mechanic for ten years.
MOTHER:
A pretty and petite little lady, Ruby is a forty year old doctor. She was only seventeen when she had Xandir, only a child herself, really.
BROTHER:
N/A
SISTER:
N/A
PET:
He keeps a small red beta fish called "Sparta" in his room.
SIGNIFICANT OTHER:
N/A
WORTHY MENTIONS:
He does not remember the last time he cried out of hurt, but he will cry out of joy.
Barty is a hard to get to know fellow, tall, blonde, and barrel-chested, he is nothing like Xandir in both appearance and personality. He was twenty when Xandir was born, and has now worked as a mechanic for ten years.
MOTHER:
A pretty and petite little lady, Ruby is a forty year old doctor. She was only seventeen when she had Xandir, only a child herself, really.
BROTHER:
N/A
SISTER:
N/A
PET:
He keeps a small red beta fish called "Sparta" in his room.
SIGNIFICANT OTHER:
N/A
WORTHY MENTIONS:
He does not remember the last time he cried out of hurt, but he will cry out of joy.
CHILDHOOD:
When Xandir was five months old, and his father Barty was twenty, his mother, Ruby left. Ruby said that she just wanted to get away. It was all getting too much for her - Xandir, and him, and everything... She said she was going to stay with a friend of her mother’s in Sydney, a sort of godmother or something. She got on better with her godmother than she did with her mum. She just got on a bus and went.
They lived with Barty’s mother until Xandir was five, and then moved into a small share apartment with two other women. Barty was a fairly good photographer, but he needed another job, so he also became a part time mechanic.
When Troy was six years old, his mother returned and told Barty that she wanted to take Xandir back. Barty wouldn't let Ruby take Sianee from him. He’d been the one who had taken care of him, and he’d done a good job of it.
They fought acrimoniously at first and Ruby threatened to take it to court; Barty knew that she’d probably win, just because she was Xandir’s mother. He knew how things were set up. But the both of them knew they each didn't want to put their son through that.
They wanted him growing up knowing both of his parents, and spending lots of time with both of them; to be a real part in their lives. That is what a normal kid would want. They agreed to work out something that they could both live with. They knew that it was just the beginning of years of compromise and negotiations and juggling their time with him, but they both wanted to make it work for their son.
ADOLESCENCE:
And things did work out alright, for a while. Xandir decided to continue living with his father, and he would often visit his mother. Sure, Xandir had felt the loss. It was sometimes a lonely house, with just him and his father, even though Barty had filled it with music and fun, and life and everything he made. But Xandir had missed the ordinariness of daily contact with a mother at times. He was determined when he was very young that he would see his own children grow up.
Barty did everything he could to see that Xandir didn't miss out. He took him to parks to play with ducks. He remembered his father would play dolls with him, regardless of the fact it made Barty slightly uncomfortable to think his son would rather play with Barbie over toy trucks. But Xandir also loved to do allot of boyish things too, playing soccer with his dad. He remembered his dad running and running, his blonde curly hair flying out behind him, leaping and kicking for the ball, his legs in long red and green football socks. He brought home books on paper aeroplanes, and they sat in the kitchen table together folding and experimenting. Xandir had the best paper aeroplanes of any kid he knew.
There were friends, lots of friends, and people who stayed with them for extended periods. There were women who stayed the night in his fathers bedroom sometimes, but none had been allowed to share their life. There were women who were just friends. One of them, Lisa, had taught Xandir how to braid hair.
Even though Xandir often spent weekends, and some nights at his mothers house, he felt he barely knew her. His dad never spoke about her much about Ruby at all, mainly because he felt it was Ruby's business to tell him. But she wasn't very good at that. Anything Xandir wanted to know he’d have to gather for himself.
Ruby had a soft voice, and she was neat. Those two things were the most noticeable things about her. Even when Xandir was thirteen, she was about as tall him, and even though his mother wasn’t old her hair was graying. She wasn’t a suit-wearer, she didn’t have to because she was a doctor. Outside of work she wore her hair loosely which was brown, and she wore red lipstick, neat pressed trousers, and neatly ironed blouses, and long sleeve shirts, with sweet smelling perfume. She didn’t do her own ironing; she paid someone else to do it.
Her voice was so soft it made Xandir feel loud. He felt loud and awkward next to his neat, quiet mother. He would swallow his loud voice in shame and embarrassment.
Most of the time they’d have nothing to say to one another. Because his mother was so academic, learning stuff from books was her thing. She’d ask Xandir about school and he would reply that school was never really his thing, and it showed. He wished that he had brought something, just to prove that he could do anything. His irrational desire to win this womans approval often confused him, and left him resentful, and even more determined not to sit in a room all his life reading books and pushing pens, as he put to herself.
And whenever Xandir got home to his father, the thing he most wanted to ask him (but didn't, because he feared hurting his feelings) was why and how they ever got along well enough to have him.
The very first time Xandir discovered he possessed his ability he had been visiting his mother, actually. Really, who'd expect to have their elbow go through a kitchen table one afternoon at lunch? After the emergence of his gifts, Xandir looked to his father for support rather than his mother. He was fourteen by this time, and had already begun to explore his sexuality. So it had seemed to put allot more on his plate at the time.
He had also already mutually found and was discovered by Bellfonte Academy, which catered specifically for children and teenagers with unique talents such as his own. It piqued his interest, but he didn't apply or respond right away due to a personal concern that he may be treated differently. Not because of what he was able to do, of course, but he feared how he may be treated if anyone were to find out that he was homosexual. His father found an email left on the laptop one day after dinner, and contacted the staff immediately. Upon finding out the dealings, they were rather agitated and bemused, but insistent that he went.
His first year was spent keeping to himself a fair bit, learning math and geometry and quite easily. Science and History killed. P.E. became his favorite vent. Classes on his abilities were strange, but enjoyable and by the time winter break rolled around, he already had a very good grasp ion how to handle it. He gained a few friends, a few enemies, a strange reputation, and a better sense of when people were weirded out by his actions and oddball traits.
By the time graduation rolled around, he had aced math, art, and feels so natural about his ability he believes (quite cocky) that he could probably phase through walls in his sleep.
ADULTHOOD:
Twenty-three counts as adulthood right? Fine. According to you, maybe.
After graduation, Xandir had been at a loss for what to do with his life as far as employment went. His father offered him a job working with him, but the extent of Xandir's vehicle know-how was changing a tire, and checking oil and water, so it just wasn't his thing. So, for about a year, he settled for working night fill at a supermarket. It was just fine, for a while, but it was too quiet, and the few other people who joined him on his shifts did not share his sense of humor, so he grew bored. Plus there was that time he decided it would be funny if he stuck his head through a fridge door and pretend it was stuck. The poor kid who found him had fainted out of fright, and Xandir was given a warning.
Despite his tendency to create weird situations, and raise eyebrows, Xandir has fitted in quite nicely with other people. He even found a pretty nice place in Kalispell, and a job working as a bartender. In the meantime, in thanks to a friend who is pretty handy with a camera, Xandir also developed a keen interest in video recording and editing. He began messing around with a camcorder and recorded himself and some friends doing crazy stunts and pranks. He then became interested in "vlogging", making a video log on day to day experiences, like internet television.
After about eight months, Xandir realized that his YouTube videos were starting to become popular, and he became a partner in YouTube's revenue sharing. In the midst of his channels growth, "Jubilant Kids" as he called it, gave him a six-figure annual income over the past few years based around sponsorship's, licensing fees, and his YouTube partnership.
While he emphasizes the extreme inconsistencies of the CPM given by YouTube month-to-month, Xandir is capable of making around $500 for every 100,000 views. Though that may be a good month. Sometimes it goes lower and sometimes it’s been higher.
To put it in simpler terms, he can make $3,000 for every one million video views throughout that “good month.” With three ads (banner, overlay, and pre-roll) per non-embedded video, each ad placement yields an average of $1,000 per one million views – for an effective CPM of $3 per video view.
It amazes him that something he's done for fun has evolved into a corporation and how a madcap oddball like himself can make a living with his videos.
So that's what he does, for now, and it fairly contented to do so.
When Xandir was five months old, and his father Barty was twenty, his mother, Ruby left. Ruby said that she just wanted to get away. It was all getting too much for her - Xandir, and him, and everything... She said she was going to stay with a friend of her mother’s in Sydney, a sort of godmother or something. She got on better with her godmother than she did with her mum. She just got on a bus and went.
They lived with Barty’s mother until Xandir was five, and then moved into a small share apartment with two other women. Barty was a fairly good photographer, but he needed another job, so he also became a part time mechanic.
When Troy was six years old, his mother returned and told Barty that she wanted to take Xandir back. Barty wouldn't let Ruby take Sianee from him. He’d been the one who had taken care of him, and he’d done a good job of it.
They fought acrimoniously at first and Ruby threatened to take it to court; Barty knew that she’d probably win, just because she was Xandir’s mother. He knew how things were set up. But the both of them knew they each didn't want to put their son through that.
They wanted him growing up knowing both of his parents, and spending lots of time with both of them; to be a real part in their lives. That is what a normal kid would want. They agreed to work out something that they could both live with. They knew that it was just the beginning of years of compromise and negotiations and juggling their time with him, but they both wanted to make it work for their son.
ADOLESCENCE:
And things did work out alright, for a while. Xandir decided to continue living with his father, and he would often visit his mother. Sure, Xandir had felt the loss. It was sometimes a lonely house, with just him and his father, even though Barty had filled it with music and fun, and life and everything he made. But Xandir had missed the ordinariness of daily contact with a mother at times. He was determined when he was very young that he would see his own children grow up.
Barty did everything he could to see that Xandir didn't miss out. He took him to parks to play with ducks. He remembered his father would play dolls with him, regardless of the fact it made Barty slightly uncomfortable to think his son would rather play with Barbie over toy trucks. But Xandir also loved to do allot of boyish things too, playing soccer with his dad. He remembered his dad running and running, his blonde curly hair flying out behind him, leaping and kicking for the ball, his legs in long red and green football socks. He brought home books on paper aeroplanes, and they sat in the kitchen table together folding and experimenting. Xandir had the best paper aeroplanes of any kid he knew.
There were friends, lots of friends, and people who stayed with them for extended periods. There were women who stayed the night in his fathers bedroom sometimes, but none had been allowed to share their life. There were women who were just friends. One of them, Lisa, had taught Xandir how to braid hair.
Even though Xandir often spent weekends, and some nights at his mothers house, he felt he barely knew her. His dad never spoke about her much about Ruby at all, mainly because he felt it was Ruby's business to tell him. But she wasn't very good at that. Anything Xandir wanted to know he’d have to gather for himself.
Ruby had a soft voice, and she was neat. Those two things were the most noticeable things about her. Even when Xandir was thirteen, she was about as tall him, and even though his mother wasn’t old her hair was graying. She wasn’t a suit-wearer, she didn’t have to because she was a doctor. Outside of work she wore her hair loosely which was brown, and she wore red lipstick, neat pressed trousers, and neatly ironed blouses, and long sleeve shirts, with sweet smelling perfume. She didn’t do her own ironing; she paid someone else to do it.
Her voice was so soft it made Xandir feel loud. He felt loud and awkward next to his neat, quiet mother. He would swallow his loud voice in shame and embarrassment.
Most of the time they’d have nothing to say to one another. Because his mother was so academic, learning stuff from books was her thing. She’d ask Xandir about school and he would reply that school was never really his thing, and it showed. He wished that he had brought something, just to prove that he could do anything. His irrational desire to win this womans approval often confused him, and left him resentful, and even more determined not to sit in a room all his life reading books and pushing pens, as he put to herself.
And whenever Xandir got home to his father, the thing he most wanted to ask him (but didn't, because he feared hurting his feelings) was why and how they ever got along well enough to have him.
The very first time Xandir discovered he possessed his ability he had been visiting his mother, actually. Really, who'd expect to have their elbow go through a kitchen table one afternoon at lunch? After the emergence of his gifts, Xandir looked to his father for support rather than his mother. He was fourteen by this time, and had already begun to explore his sexuality. So it had seemed to put allot more on his plate at the time.
He had also already mutually found and was discovered by Bellfonte Academy, which catered specifically for children and teenagers with unique talents such as his own. It piqued his interest, but he didn't apply or respond right away due to a personal concern that he may be treated differently. Not because of what he was able to do, of course, but he feared how he may be treated if anyone were to find out that he was homosexual. His father found an email left on the laptop one day after dinner, and contacted the staff immediately. Upon finding out the dealings, they were rather agitated and bemused, but insistent that he went.
His first year was spent keeping to himself a fair bit, learning math and geometry and quite easily. Science and History killed. P.E. became his favorite vent. Classes on his abilities were strange, but enjoyable and by the time winter break rolled around, he already had a very good grasp ion how to handle it. He gained a few friends, a few enemies, a strange reputation, and a better sense of when people were weirded out by his actions and oddball traits.
By the time graduation rolled around, he had aced math, art, and feels so natural about his ability he believes (quite cocky) that he could probably phase through walls in his sleep.
ADULTHOOD:
Twenty-three counts as adulthood right? Fine. According to you, maybe.
After graduation, Xandir had been at a loss for what to do with his life as far as employment went. His father offered him a job working with him, but the extent of Xandir's vehicle know-how was changing a tire, and checking oil and water, so it just wasn't his thing. So, for about a year, he settled for working night fill at a supermarket. It was just fine, for a while, but it was too quiet, and the few other people who joined him on his shifts did not share his sense of humor, so he grew bored. Plus there was that time he decided it would be funny if he stuck his head through a fridge door and pretend it was stuck. The poor kid who found him had fainted out of fright, and Xandir was given a warning.
Despite his tendency to create weird situations, and raise eyebrows, Xandir has fitted in quite nicely with other people. He even found a pretty nice place in Kalispell, and a job working as a bartender. In the meantime, in thanks to a friend who is pretty handy with a camera, Xandir also developed a keen interest in video recording and editing. He began messing around with a camcorder and recorded himself and some friends doing crazy stunts and pranks. He then became interested in "vlogging", making a video log on day to day experiences, like internet television.
After about eight months, Xandir realized that his YouTube videos were starting to become popular, and he became a partner in YouTube's revenue sharing. In the midst of his channels growth, "Jubilant Kids" as he called it, gave him a six-figure annual income over the past few years based around sponsorship's, licensing fees, and his YouTube partnership.
While he emphasizes the extreme inconsistencies of the CPM given by YouTube month-to-month, Xandir is capable of making around $500 for every 100,000 views. Though that may be a good month. Sometimes it goes lower and sometimes it’s been higher.
To put it in simpler terms, he can make $3,000 for every one million video views throughout that “good month.” With three ads (banner, overlay, and pre-roll) per non-embedded video, each ad placement yields an average of $1,000 per one million views – for an effective CPM of $3 per video view.
It amazes him that something he's done for fun has evolved into a corporation and how a madcap oddball like himself can make a living with his videos.
So that's what he does, for now, and it fairly contented to do so.
SAMPLE:
You know, Xandir liked taking risks. He liked bending the rules to conform to his own selfish desires, and he liked going against the grain. He was not really sure what he was thinking sneaking around at 11:30 on a Tuesday night though, but he did it anyways. Maybe because it filled him with adrenaline, knowing he could get into some serious trouble if he was caught – could he? He’d managed to wiggle his way out of things in the past though, so he wasn’t too worried. Yeah, so he broke the rules a little bit, he climbed the fence that was marked, do not climb! but that was just him. That had always been him.
What on Earth was he doing out here? Honestly.
Xandir stumbled as his shin-high, stack heeled boots tottered against the damp grass, and instead of curling up into a little ball in his nice cozy bed and pulling the sheets over his head, he was trudging towards old house that hadn't been lived in for about a decade.
His feet were killing him, already. He’d only just put them on about fifteen minutes ago, but as soon as he found an opportunity to, the black shin-high, stack heeled boots had to come off. “God, I feel as though I’m in Sweet today,” he groaned, wrapping his thin arm’s around his torso and swishing his shoulder-length bottle-black hair off of his forehead.
Cowboy’s wore stack-heeled boots didn’t they? Well, nothing like what Xandir was wearing, obviously. His were way better. It probably took longer than one would consider normal for Xandir to choose between the three jackets, four pairs of boots, two jumpers and six t-shirts he had pulled from the closet once he’d decided to drag himself out of bed and go on this ridiculous walk. But in the end he’d chosen black skintight trousers with white spots, glam punk T-shirt, silver snake necklace, and the stack-heeled boots he was now wishing he had left behind. Was he crazy to go out, walking in this sort of attire? Possibly. But who cared? At least he looked good.
Now you might be wondering what he's doing out here? Well seeing as the house hadn't been lived in for a decade, the house-stereotype was it must be haunted. So of course Xandir thought it'd be acool idea to film himself sitting there for a while, just for funsies, y'know?
No-one in their right mind - and very few people in their wrong mind - would ever accuse Xandir of being intelligent - though perhaps calling him stupid wasn’t entirely fair either, for it was true that he compensated for his lack of book-smarts with an uncanny intuitiveness that few possessed. He had actually left school with sufficient Math, English, Chemistry and Geography grades, though he had managed to acquire high marks in both Fine Art and Hair Design too. His grasp on time and reality in general was tenuous at best, to the extent where he often had to be reminded of his own age.
So he didn’t know an awful lot, but the one thing he was absolutely, one-hundred-percent concrete-certain on was that he was very cold, and it was very dark out. Why, oh why hadn’t he worn a jacket? Oh, that’s right. Because it would have taken an extra twenty minutes to choose between a leather jacket with silver buttons, or a white jacket with black stripes.
So apart from wanting to take a video of himself in this stupid house he was approaching, why else was Xandir out here, in the middle of the night, plodding along in these painful shoes. He supposed he could also put it down to the simple fact that he could not sleep. That was true. Though he had fallen asleep. It was a nightmare that had woken him up. He had allot of those. Where the dream-weaver would just play tricks on him at night.
‘Okay, your in a meadow, but instead of corn, it’s a field of eels, growing in slithery acres. Don’t worry about it though, it’s all apart of the brilliant dream I’m weaving.’ SNORE. ‘Oh what’s this? An eagle is swooping down to eat one of the eels.’ SNORE. ‘But wait! The eagles fallen asleep mid-swoop!’ SNORE. ‘It’s gonna crash!’ SNORE. ‘It’s coming right at you! Run!’ SNORE. The dream-weaver frantically tries to hold onto the dream he’s weaving. SNORE. ‘Okay,’ The dream-weaver gave up. ‘There are no eels, there is no eagle. I was making it up. You can wake up now.’
And the best cure for being rudely awoken from a dream filled with eels and eagles(in his own opinion anyway) was sweets!
More than happy to distract himself from the eerie, and imagined sounds around him, Xandir pulled a small smartie packet out of his pocket. He didn’t like chocolate very much, but he loved to suck the color off of the wicked cocoa bean. When it snowed in Winter, Xandir loved to suck the color off of a smartie and spit it into the snow to see what color it’d create. Once the smartie was white, he’d let them dry, and then put them back into the packet, and show his father the smartie’s with no color on them. Like little albino’s awaiting their digestion.
Xandir shook the packet; watching as a couple of the little circular chocolates fell out onto his palm. It was hard to tell under the very little light that the moon was casting, but as far as he could tell, they were little yellow, red and green smartie’s. He tossed them into his mouth, sucking happily, and as he sucked, he shook the packet, smiling as it made little rattling sounds, like a small rainbow maraca.
Yawning widely as he continued to walk, Xandir felt some smartie-colored saliva dribble down his chin and hastily rubbed the back of his hand against his bottom lip. “Yuck.” His long nose crinkled as he shook the spittle from his palm (he wouldn’t DARE rub it on his clothes), and then spat out the now white smartie onto his palm and flicked it, smiling, pleased as it disappeared into the darkness in front of him.
He was just about to shake a couple more smarties into his palm, when out of the corner of his peripheral vision, Xandir caught a glimpse of something white flashing inside one of the windows. It was a dull light, but in contrast with the near pitch-black surroundings it was clearly visible.
Shuddering, now not so much from the cold, but from fear; Xandir cowered on the spot. His large blue eyes focused solely on that one spot where he’d seen the...there it was again! Another flash of light. What was it?
Xandir felt his own heartbeat thumping a wild tattoo against his scrawny rib-cage as he stood, trembling both from the cold, and from fright, listening to the inner debate between his mind-tank and his legs. ‘Stop yer quakin’ an’ go an’ investigate, ya git! Don’t be a bloody chicken.’, His brain taunted. ‘I am not a chicken! I’m freezing my arse off over here.’, his leg’s piped up. "Bwok-bwok-bwok!". "Shut it!"
So his brain had a cockney lilt? Weird.
There was another flash. Screw it! Finally, curiosity getting the better of him, Xandir albeit scrupulously, started to walk towards the area with the mysterious lights. His fingernails dug into the sides of his rib-cage as he approached the home, imagination as he got closer and closer to the front door, until unexpectedly, a voice rang into ear shot. The voice was held at barely a whisper, and Xandir strained to make out any of the word’s. But it sounded calm, almost welcoming actually, and Xandir loosened the vice-grip around his torso, only then realizing how much his fingers had been digging into his ribs.
With a slightly trembling breath, Xandir peered inside one of the broken windows, mindful to keep a slight distance between himself and the door, so it wouldn’t creak. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook the presumably and hopefully living person inside.
The house smelt quite stale, and old. Very old. Xandir's eyes flitted towards a small-framed, blonde girl, who was kneeling down beside a very worn couch as she tipped a pillow-case upside down and spilt out some unseen objects. At first, Xandir almost gasped but held his breath. A ghost? No... of course not. Just a young lady, carrying around a pillow case filled with unseen stuff. In fact, Xandir could recognize the smell one of the objects, and had heard it slosh and it bounced off of the surface of the couch. Hot chocolate. He could almost feel his skin warm at the mere thought of it.
Xandir wasn’t sure what to do now, as the girl then picked up one of the cups and sat upon the couch. Xandir was a tiny man; about 5’6” and weighed about as much as an adolescent fairy. This girl seemed no bigger than he, so no threat right? Besides, anyone carrying around hot chocolate couldn't be all that spooky, right? Finally, knowing that there was no point in lurking in the dark much longer, Xandir stepped into the dimly lit room, immediately surprised at the sudden, though only slight change in temperature. “You okay there?” What a terrible, terrible way to start a conversation.
USERNAME: Ames
AGE GROUP: Twenty-three
EXPERIENCE: About ten years, give or take.
You know, Xandir liked taking risks. He liked bending the rules to conform to his own selfish desires, and he liked going against the grain. He was not really sure what he was thinking sneaking around at 11:30 on a Tuesday night though, but he did it anyways. Maybe because it filled him with adrenaline, knowing he could get into some serious trouble if he was caught – could he? He’d managed to wiggle his way out of things in the past though, so he wasn’t too worried. Yeah, so he broke the rules a little bit, he climbed the fence that was marked, do not climb! but that was just him. That had always been him.
What on Earth was he doing out here? Honestly.
Xandir stumbled as his shin-high, stack heeled boots tottered against the damp grass, and instead of curling up into a little ball in his nice cozy bed and pulling the sheets over his head, he was trudging towards old house that hadn't been lived in for about a decade.
His feet were killing him, already. He’d only just put them on about fifteen minutes ago, but as soon as he found an opportunity to, the black shin-high, stack heeled boots had to come off. “God, I feel as though I’m in Sweet today,” he groaned, wrapping his thin arm’s around his torso and swishing his shoulder-length bottle-black hair off of his forehead.
Cowboy’s wore stack-heeled boots didn’t they? Well, nothing like what Xandir was wearing, obviously. His were way better. It probably took longer than one would consider normal for Xandir to choose between the three jackets, four pairs of boots, two jumpers and six t-shirts he had pulled from the closet once he’d decided to drag himself out of bed and go on this ridiculous walk. But in the end he’d chosen black skintight trousers with white spots, glam punk T-shirt, silver snake necklace, and the stack-heeled boots he was now wishing he had left behind. Was he crazy to go out, walking in this sort of attire? Possibly. But who cared? At least he looked good.
Now you might be wondering what he's doing out here? Well seeing as the house hadn't been lived in for a decade, the house-stereotype was it must be haunted. So of course Xandir thought it'd be acool idea to film himself sitting there for a while, just for funsies, y'know?
No-one in their right mind - and very few people in their wrong mind - would ever accuse Xandir of being intelligent - though perhaps calling him stupid wasn’t entirely fair either, for it was true that he compensated for his lack of book-smarts with an uncanny intuitiveness that few possessed. He had actually left school with sufficient Math, English, Chemistry and Geography grades, though he had managed to acquire high marks in both Fine Art and Hair Design too. His grasp on time and reality in general was tenuous at best, to the extent where he often had to be reminded of his own age.
So he didn’t know an awful lot, but the one thing he was absolutely, one-hundred-percent concrete-certain on was that he was very cold, and it was very dark out. Why, oh why hadn’t he worn a jacket? Oh, that’s right. Because it would have taken an extra twenty minutes to choose between a leather jacket with silver buttons, or a white jacket with black stripes.
So apart from wanting to take a video of himself in this stupid house he was approaching, why else was Xandir out here, in the middle of the night, plodding along in these painful shoes. He supposed he could also put it down to the simple fact that he could not sleep. That was true. Though he had fallen asleep. It was a nightmare that had woken him up. He had allot of those. Where the dream-weaver would just play tricks on him at night.
‘Okay, your in a meadow, but instead of corn, it’s a field of eels, growing in slithery acres. Don’t worry about it though, it’s all apart of the brilliant dream I’m weaving.’ SNORE. ‘Oh what’s this? An eagle is swooping down to eat one of the eels.’ SNORE. ‘But wait! The eagles fallen asleep mid-swoop!’ SNORE. ‘It’s gonna crash!’ SNORE. ‘It’s coming right at you! Run!’ SNORE. The dream-weaver frantically tries to hold onto the dream he’s weaving. SNORE. ‘Okay,’ The dream-weaver gave up. ‘There are no eels, there is no eagle. I was making it up. You can wake up now.’
And the best cure for being rudely awoken from a dream filled with eels and eagles(in his own opinion anyway) was sweets!
More than happy to distract himself from the eerie, and imagined sounds around him, Xandir pulled a small smartie packet out of his pocket. He didn’t like chocolate very much, but he loved to suck the color off of the wicked cocoa bean. When it snowed in Winter, Xandir loved to suck the color off of a smartie and spit it into the snow to see what color it’d create. Once the smartie was white, he’d let them dry, and then put them back into the packet, and show his father the smartie’s with no color on them. Like little albino’s awaiting their digestion.
Xandir shook the packet; watching as a couple of the little circular chocolates fell out onto his palm. It was hard to tell under the very little light that the moon was casting, but as far as he could tell, they were little yellow, red and green smartie’s. He tossed them into his mouth, sucking happily, and as he sucked, he shook the packet, smiling as it made little rattling sounds, like a small rainbow maraca.
Yawning widely as he continued to walk, Xandir felt some smartie-colored saliva dribble down his chin and hastily rubbed the back of his hand against his bottom lip. “Yuck.” His long nose crinkled as he shook the spittle from his palm (he wouldn’t DARE rub it on his clothes), and then spat out the now white smartie onto his palm and flicked it, smiling, pleased as it disappeared into the darkness in front of him.
He was just about to shake a couple more smarties into his palm, when out of the corner of his peripheral vision, Xandir caught a glimpse of something white flashing inside one of the windows. It was a dull light, but in contrast with the near pitch-black surroundings it was clearly visible.
Shuddering, now not so much from the cold, but from fear; Xandir cowered on the spot. His large blue eyes focused solely on that one spot where he’d seen the...there it was again! Another flash of light. What was it?
Xandir felt his own heartbeat thumping a wild tattoo against his scrawny rib-cage as he stood, trembling both from the cold, and from fright, listening to the inner debate between his mind-tank and his legs. ‘Stop yer quakin’ an’ go an’ investigate, ya git! Don’t be a bloody chicken.’, His brain taunted. ‘I am not a chicken! I’m freezing my arse off over here.’, his leg’s piped up. "Bwok-bwok-bwok!". "Shut it!"
So his brain had a cockney lilt? Weird.
There was another flash. Screw it! Finally, curiosity getting the better of him, Xandir albeit scrupulously, started to walk towards the area with the mysterious lights. His fingernails dug into the sides of his rib-cage as he approached the home, imagination as he got closer and closer to the front door, until unexpectedly, a voice rang into ear shot. The voice was held at barely a whisper, and Xandir strained to make out any of the word’s. But it sounded calm, almost welcoming actually, and Xandir loosened the vice-grip around his torso, only then realizing how much his fingers had been digging into his ribs.
With a slightly trembling breath, Xandir peered inside one of the broken windows, mindful to keep a slight distance between himself and the door, so it wouldn’t creak. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook the presumably and hopefully living person inside.
The house smelt quite stale, and old. Very old. Xandir's eyes flitted towards a small-framed, blonde girl, who was kneeling down beside a very worn couch as she tipped a pillow-case upside down and spilt out some unseen objects. At first, Xandir almost gasped but held his breath. A ghost? No... of course not. Just a young lady, carrying around a pillow case filled with unseen stuff. In fact, Xandir could recognize the smell one of the objects, and had heard it slosh and it bounced off of the surface of the couch. Hot chocolate. He could almost feel his skin warm at the mere thought of it.
Xandir wasn’t sure what to do now, as the girl then picked up one of the cups and sat upon the couch. Xandir was a tiny man; about 5’6” and weighed about as much as an adolescent fairy. This girl seemed no bigger than he, so no threat right? Besides, anyone carrying around hot chocolate couldn't be all that spooky, right? Finally, knowing that there was no point in lurking in the dark much longer, Xandir stepped into the dimly lit room, immediately surprised at the sudden, though only slight change in temperature. “You okay there?” What a terrible, terrible way to start a conversation.
USERNAME: Ames
AGE GROUP: Twenty-three
EXPERIENCE: About ten years, give or take.
