Supernatural is such a broad spectrum of ideas and while you might find something here that is familiar we believe this is something that is inevitability true of most supernatural RP's today. We've taken inspiration from a myriad of books, shows, movies and actual lore from around the world to pull the best of everything together and make our species as unique and exciting as we possibly can.
So much thanks to everyone who joins and everyone who's paved the way long before and, inevitably, after us~
|Help Search Members Calendar Affiliates Shoutbox|
|Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )||Resend Validation Email|
Dislikes: dishonesty, dead silence, being bored, leaving something unfinished/incomplete, following orders, revealing secrets, avoiding eye contact
Quirks: nail-biting, clicking his tongue when irritated/annoyed, cracking his knuckles, always sleeps on the edge of the bed (is not used to having so much room), is a hoarder and possesses many useless trinkets that he can't seem to part with
Growing up in Red Hook was rough and unforgiving. And it’s worse when you’re as broke as I was. My family and I lived in one of the worse parts of town, amongst abandoned warehouses and the clamor of the seaside docks. And with nine of us living in a cramped two-bedroom home, it was a wonder how I’d survived there as long as I did. There had been times where I’ve thought about how much easier my life could be if I were an only child. I love my siblings, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I can’t help but entertain this fantasy of mine. I wouldn’t be sleeping on the God damned floor, if that were the case. I was the youngest of seven, with four sisters and two brothers. I often speculate whether Ma and Pa ever heard of a condom, or they just didn’t give a fuck. Though my Ma was a kind woman for the most part, it made her an easy target for Pa’s explosive temper. It didn’t help any that he had a penchant for gambling and stealing. He couldn’t hold down a decent paying job to save his life, and on top of that, he’d often ‘borrow’ money from my Ma to cover for his loses. Since a very young age, I was always told of the story of how they met – Ma was unbound and fresh-faced and gorgeous. She’d met my Pa at a casino, also a jinn but with far more experience, even though that did not make him all that wise. But that didn't stop my Ma from falling head over heals for his exotic, Italian good looks. All it took was one meeting to get her knocked up, and they were married before long; both families were very strict and very Catholic. And while their love burned as hot as a flame, like a candle, it was snuffed out by the time she was expecting baby number three. Whether it was out of pity or cowardice, maybe both, she had decided to not leave him for our sake. Though I knew the real reason was because her family would never allow her to get a divorce. Despite all her flaws, Ma had worked her ass off – long nights at the diner and bargaining for extra shifts, even on her days off – so that we could go to school and not make the same mistakes she did, wasting away in this crummy, old seaside town. It was more than I could say for my dad, anyway. Aside from the gambling and the occasional pickpocketing, Pa had worked, intermittently, down at the dock as a longshoreman, loading and unloading cargo onto the ships. Every so often, he’d help with smuggling immigrants into the country – sneaking them in quietly from the shipping yard and into our home. His luck ran out, eventually, and he was caught harboring two illegal aliens in our attic, who also happened to be our distant relatives from Italy. He was facing trial and time in prison, but by the good graces of the people of Red Hook, he instead was charged with a hefty fine and community service. The cousins from Italy were deported and we never heard from them again. But if there were any perks to living in Red Hook, it was the close-knit community – we all looked out for each other as best we could, and no one ever sold anybody out. That was the code we lived by. And, although, I should be glad that Pa didn't end up behind bars, a part of me would’ve loved not having him around anymore. There were still the bills to cover, however, and we were just barely scrapping by as it was. While Ma continued to slave away at her job, the task of babysitting and cleaning up after a horde of hell raisers fell to my eldest sister, Sofia. She took up the responsibility like a champ, but I could see the bitterness behind her smiles – she had to grow up all too fast. In order to pull my own weight, I’d dabbled in a few deals here and there, offering up my gifts for a fair trade. It’s not something I’d make a habit of, but it’s not like I had much of a choice. Though I’d picked up some useful skills along the way, like how to pick locks, slide of hand and the art of deception. I was sixteen the first time I’d been bound. A sleazy thug had wanted to make a deal, a contract, and I accepted. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but I could feel myself getting stronger, more powerful than before. I could see why some jinn would prefer it this way. Though once the contract was over, I was relieved. From then on, I’ve kept greater care with whom I strike a deal with. If either of my parents knew about what I was doing, they didn’t show it or even seemed to care. I thought after the whole trial fiasco, Pa would have some sense knocked into him, but that was just wishful thinking. Liquor became his life and he made no effort to change that. And shit really hit the fan when she caught him fooling around with a hooker, in our own home, when he thought she was working the diner. But if there was one good thing to come of it is that Pa finally packed his shit and left. I haven't seen him since, thank fucking god. But Ma seemed to only grow more miserable as time wore on. It was subtle, the deterioration, but it was there. She grew depressed, and that left my older siblings and I to pick up the slack. Years later and she never step foot out of the house – always tucked away in her bedroom, hardly ever spoke to anyone except for when it was absolutely necessary. This is what ticked me off the most. I thought she would've been happy to have finally cut ties with her lousy excuse of a husband but it only proved to have drained her self-confidence, her appearance waxing away like a worn-out candle. It tore me apart to see her like that. And even with the help of the occasional sympathetic neighbor or concerned relative, who offered their help in anyway they could, the bills that we worked so hard to pay off just kept pilling up with no signs of stopping. Following in the example of my older siblings, I dropped out of school, pounding the pavement for any work I could snag. I was desperate, and it made me a target for those looking to take advantage of eager, unbound jinn. Ten years later I was still living in the same house I grew up in. I hadn’t had the heart to leave, even when most my siblings had already fled the coop, the lucky bastards. Except for Sofia, that is. She and I were the ones who stayed behind to look after our bedridden mother. As for my father... I hadn't heard from him since the day he turned tail and ran off with his hooker girlfriend. It continued on like this for a while, and life had dragged to a standstill until my mother overdosed on some pills and died peacefully in her sleep. Suddenly, there was nothing left for me in Red Hook. Sofia and I went our separate ways after the funeral. She traveled north to further her education and become a nurse or a doctor or whatever. As for me, I wound up in San Francisco – on the opposite side of the country. I had to get as far away as possible, and this seemed like the perfect place to clean the slate and start anew. I took up odd jobs, anything I could find and as long as I was getting paid I honestly couldn’t care less. That was when I took in new ownership – a curator master – and in return for my loyalty, I'm rewarded rather handsomely if I do say so.