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 Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 8:39 am
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boils and Ghouls of All Ages, Welcome to the Karn-Evil Circus!!" AMITYVILLE ACADEMY ENROLLMENT FORMName: Nile Bamboozle Croc
Nicknames: Boozle, Croc
Gender: male
Age: 14ish
Faction/Race Monsters - Crocodile Man/boil. A long tradition from freak shows in circuses, Crocodile or gator men are part human, part reptile creatures. The Halloween version of a Crocodile Man is a large humanoid like creature with a crocodile’s head and tail. Their hands and feet have large claws, and their skin is rough and bumpy, much like a crocodile’s. They are shape shifters, and can change their faces to look relatively humanoid, so when changing into their natural form it’s even creepier!
Natural Ability: Shapeshifting. He can take the form of a gigantic croc or his humanoid body and croc head and tail. As a crocodile monster he is also extraordinarily strong for his size and has extremely thick skin.
Personality: Boozle is a b*****d. He might only be 14, but he’s seen more of the dirty side of life than any kid should have. He’s cynical and thinks that any sign of affection or kindness is just another way of trying to get something out of the other person. (That's how he does it, after all.) He drinks (when he can), he smokes, he does whatever the hell he wants, and no one ever tells him differently. It’s made all the more ironic by his oddly delicate looking human form. (He should bulk up with age.)
As a child growing up behind a circus he never really made close knit family connections, at least not in the way regular kids do. He watched dramatic, turbulent relationships start, build and fall apart on a regular basis. His father was in prison from the time he was two to the time he was twelve. He was raised by his scary clown mother, Irene, who beat on him whenever she was drunk. She was always drunk.
When Razzle finally got out of the pokey he came back to the circus to find Irene beating his son half to death over something he had said. He took the kid away from her, but stayed in the circus, since it was all he knew. That meant Irene could still find Boozle when he was working. Boozle is secretly scared of both of them, because who KNOWS what Razzle did to be in prison for ten years?
Boozle has this problem when it comes to females, one that started rather young. The females of the circus liked his pretty face and rude attitude, and often made him kiss them because he would. He was getting rather involved with an older undead ghoul by the time he was fourteen, and his dad didn't agree with it. He gave the boil an enrollment form for Amity, telling him he'd do what he had to to get him in, if he wanted to go (it would get him away from all these older ghouls and around ghouls his own age). Irene didn't agree, and several fights followed over WHOSE kid Boozle was, and whether or not he needed to go in the first place. Boozle usually got dragged into the middle of them.
The real reason Boozle finally filled out the form was because his dad said he could graduate. It was the first time someone had told him he could accomplish something outside of circus tricks.
BTW Boozle figures if he can’t trust his own parents, he can’t trust anyone else. He’ll hang out with someone if something interesting is happening, but by no means think he’s their best buddy. Don’t think he wants to be someone’s loyal boilfriend, either. He'll tell them he's just using them, or letting them use him. That’s really what he believes.
He DOES want to be where people are. He hates being alone, even if he’ll never admit it. He might make smartass comments while he’s there (and honestly, he can be funny sometimes!) but he wants to be there. Even his room (a swamp built in) has a couple of ifish swimming around in the bed so he doesn’t have to sleep alone.
He is graceful. He moves like a dancer, or a gymnast, silently and smoothly. He can do all sorts of tricks, flips, dancing, he can even walk on a tightrope (one of his “ghoulfriends” who was, btw, in her twenties, had taken great enjoyment out of teaching him how to fall into the net.) He’s a work of art, physically--it’s just the rest of him that’s trash. He’ll tell people that without a hint of hesitation. After all, his mother told him that often enough for it to have to be true.
His mother was abusive both verbally and physically when she was drinking. It's only because his skin is so thick that he doesn't have scars.
Why are they enrolled in Amityville Academy? He doesn’t want to go back to the circus. He secretly, desperately wants something to show that he has “worth.” Right now it seems like a pipe dream, but his dad even took him aside and told him that he could graduate. Something like that’s never happened before.
He wants to shove it in his mother's face, too. Not that she'd even notice. TBH he should have been taken away from her years ago for child abuse.
FEAR: Death Roll:
Boozle's head shifts into crocodile form and he bites his enemy, dragging them to the ground. It works better under water, where he rolls them underneath. Er, basically he bites people hard.
Physical Description:
Eye Colour: gold, possibly?
Hair Colour/Style: doesn’t have any
Skin Colour: green, perhaps? Artist choice, really.
Clothing Style/Colours: Artist choice! He’s a freak show boil, so it should be interesting.
Extra: I would love tribal tatts and piercings and maybe a tail? I dunno!
References: (if applicable)
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 8:39 am
Reserved for something or other.
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 8:41 am
Reserved
Roch and Boozle will HATE each other, btw. That or Boozle will love Roch and Roch will hate him<33
Now open for crits!
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 10:49 am
moar circus things circus all the time
: DDDDDD
heart
pickles would love boozle soooooooooo much. 8|
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 10:54 am
*Fistbump* When we get them they should start up a shady circus club! And terrorize people worse than a haunted house ever would!
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Posted: Sun Nov 20, 2011 5:26 pm
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Posted: Sat Nov 26, 2011 7:15 pm
The boy, he was in no way a man, lounged on the piled crates, his leg hanging over the side of them, his back pressed against the crate that was acting as his backrest, his head tilted back so he could stare up at the stars. A cighoulette was dangling from two long fingers, burning itself down without being smoked.
“Boozle?” a female asked from below him.
“Not now,” Boozle said, his voice soft but hinting at the gravel that it would become.
“Boozle, your ma is looking for you.”
The gator boy turned, looking down at the undead female in a skimpy skirt. She was one of the elephant trainers, she’d shown him a lot over the last year she’d been part of the circus. Not much of it was something a fourteen year old needed to know.
“Tell her to go jack herself,” he said coldly, looking away. “She’s probably too drunk to come looking out here, anyway.” He hoped. He could hear the clown calling his name from the trailers behind the tent, but there was no way he was going to go to her. He used to, when he was a kid. He could still hear the sound of the whip flicking through the air--
“Boozle?” the ghoul said, climbing up the crates and sitting down next to him. “Boozle, kiss me?”
He leaned over, doing as she told him to, his long tongue twining with hers, even as his mind wandered to something else. There was something his dad had shown him earlier. He pulled back, digging through his baggy black pants’ pockets, tugging out a torn, overly folded piece of paper and holding it up to the light that was coming off of the gigantic tent not too far away.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to look at the paper. Her head blocked the light.
“Move, would you?” he said, pushing her aside as if he hadn’t just kissed her.
“But you didn’t tell me what it was.”
“It’s an entrance form for a school,” Boozle said. “I’m thinking of going.”
“But... why?”
“Because he thought I could graduate,” he said, standing. No one had ever told him he could accomplish something before. At least, not something that didn’t involve circus tricks. He dropped down from the crates, some fifteen feet in the air, and landed lightly on his feet, knees bent. Then he walked away, leaving the girl behind without looking back.
“There you are!” The snarl made Boozle jerk, a hint of fear in his eyes as he slowly turned to the large clown female casting a shadow over him. “Give it over.”
“Ma, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Boozle said, slipping the sheet of paper into his pocket with a casual motion.
“That b*****d gave you an entrance form,” Irene snarled. “You don’t need to go runnin’ off to some high and mighty school--you’re circus folk! Circus folk train their own! You know everything you need--“
“Leave the boil alone,” a cold, deep gravelly voice growled from the shadows. “I told you, Irene, you don’t get no say over my son.”
“He’s MY son!” Irene bellowed, her bottle of whiskey waving in the air.
“He ain’t your son, not when I caught you beatin’ him to an inch of his life,” the gator man said as he stepped into the light. Razzle towered over both of them, more muscle than neck at his shoulders, square and tough looking, his teeth sharp and pointed as he smiled at Boozle. It didn’t get a smile in return, not when he hadn’t caught onto the beating thing until Boozle was twelve. Course, most of that time Razzle’d been... gone.
“We ain’t got the money to send him to some jackdamn high school!” Irene screamed.
“I can get it, if I need to,” Razzle said quietly. “If he wants to go, I’m gonna let him. And you’re smellin’ like dead meat again, boil,” he said dangerously, his eyes narrowing on Boozle. “You been playin’ with that one ghoul again?”
“So what if I have?” Boozle asked, taking a drag off of his smoke.
“Put it out,” Razzle said. “You ain’t gonna be smokin’ in some high and mighty school. They kick you out.”
“He won’t listen to you--“
Boozle dropped the stub, grinding it into the ground with his bare foot. He didn’t even notice the heat against his very tough skin. But he did notice the look of rage and hatred on his mother’s face. She lifted one hand, as if planning to hit him, and he cringed, not capable of hiding it.
“I tole you once, old woman,” Razzle said in a rumbling growl, “just cuz my boil wasn’t born a clown don’t mean I’m gonna let you beat on him like he’s a lower class citizen. It ain’t gonna be no big deal to go back into the pokey. I WILL kill you.”
That was the reason Razzle hadn’t found out about the beatings, after all. He’d been in jail for the past ten years. Boozle hadn’t found out all the details, but he was pretty sure the gator man had offed someone that didn’t agree with him.
He scared him more than Irene did, in some ways.
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Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2011 6:52 pm
“Do you really think I’ll let you go that easily?”
The words were repeating over and over again in Boozle’s mind as he sat in the back of the pumpkin wagon heading for town. It was a scene he just wanted to forget, but he couldn’t. Not when it had happened just that morning.
He’d been walking the tightrope. Each step perfectly pointed, landing gracefully in front of the last, his arms out for balance as he looked straight forward. It was a morning routine, this walk. Something to wake him up, get his blood moving. Bounce, bounce, then flip through the air, body twisting and turning upside down, far above the ground, then landing, falling to the thin highwire as if it were as solid as the ground so far below.
His arms went out, more for appearance than for balance. This was something he’d been doing since he could walk, something that had the newer highwire acts staring at him in jealousy and hatred. He ignored them, oblivious to their problems, oblivious to everything except the rush that came with the knowledge that at any moment, with just the slightest misstep, he could plummet to the ground below, dying.
He never bothered to put up the safety net when he did this.
“Oye! Boozle! Boozle my lad!” the ringmaster shouted from below. “Come down for a moment, boil!” Boozle didn’t look down, just crossed the highwire step by step, reaching the platform and grabbing the ladder to slide down it. He landed on the ground, finally looking for the tall, thin man that ran the show. “Lovely work, as always,” the ringmaster said.
Boozle nodded, not really appreciating or even caring about the words of praise. The ringmaster, well... he and the ringmaster had a sort of understanding. It was unspoken, but it was there. Boozle wouldn’t do anything if the thin man didn’t try and grab him in the corners again. So far it was working out fine.
“Your father,” the ringmaster said casually, or as close to casual as he could get. “You realize, I don’t agree with you moving into his trailer like you have. Things--well, there are certain people that--“
“He doesn’t peek on my bath, doesn’t touch me in inappropriate ways, and has never, ever used the word ‘lovely’ in context with me. Or... possibly at all,” Boozle listed in a bored tone. “He hasn’t whipped me, beat me, kicked me, but he did steal the remote control the other night. If you want to call social services or his probation officer on him for that, you’re welcome to try.”
“I--I see,” the ringmaster said, looking taken aback. “Well that’s--that’s good, of course. I was worried. But-- I want to ask you about this ridiculous idea of going off to school.”
Boozle looked at him, raising one scaly brow, crossing his arms over his thin chest. “Is there something wrong with the idea?”
“Do you really think I’ll let you go that easily?” the ringmaster asked, his tone growing cold. “There are certain things I’m allowing at my circus right now, such as your father’s staying, but you are an investment, boil. You promise to be one of the biggest draws outside of the clowns that we have. You have no right to think of running off to some school--“
“I have every right,” Boozle said, turning and glowering right into the ringmaster’s glowing eyes. “I’ve worked for the circus, without pay, for most of my life. I deserve--“
“I have fed you! I have clothed you! The very roof over your head is thanks to me, boil! You belong to this circus, just as your mother does, and just as your father does as well!”
“Try telling that to him,” Boozle said coldly. “Because I’ve heard him say before that going back to jail isn’t that big of a deal for him.”
The ringmaster went pale. “Do you know what he did to get thrown into prison for that long?” he asked through barely moving lips.
“No, but I bet you do,” Boozle said maliciously. “I can come up with some guesses, though. Tell me, when he was a kid did you try to grope him, too?”
“Have you mentioned--“
“Are you still male right now?” Boozle said, making it up as he went along. Would his dad do anything? Hell if he knew. But at least it was better than his mom. His mom wouldn’t have cared one way or the other. “You sick jacker. Next time you try and grab me I’ll bite more than just a finger off.”
Then he turned, walking away. At least he could do it physically, if not completely mentally. He headed straight for the trailer that he was sharing with his dad, heading inside and closing the door behind him. His hands were shaking. He cursed as he realized it. His dad was there, his back to him as he sat on the edge of a chair, talking quietly into the phone.
“I’m fine. I’ve been careful. Jackdammit, don’t you dare threaten my kid,” Razzle snarled into the phone. “There’s no reason anyone would be trying to shove me back into the slammer. I’m livin’ like a jackin’ boilscout. No drinking, no smoking, workin solid hours. You want to come out here? See what I’m doing with my life? Fine. Come, then. But my kid is going off to school soon, and you’re jackin’ well not going to stop it from happening.”
He hung up, turning and looking over his shoulder at Boozle. “Something happen?” he asked quietly.
“No. Nothing.” Boozle headed for the fridge, getting out something to eat rather than looking at his father. “Who was that?” he asked casually.
“My probation boogey,” Razzle said. “Nothing important.”
“Did... uh...” Boozle fell silent, not knowing how to put it. But suddenly he wished he hadn’t threatened the ringmaster like he had. “Are you hungry?”
“We’re out of food,” Razzle admitted. “I was gonna go in town--“
“I can go,” Boozle volunteered. “I’m used to making food runs. And besides, it’s... interesting to go in town.” Which was a lie. He always got strange looks whenever he went into the nearest town. But the last thing he wanted was for his dad to go. And if he stuck around here too long he might wind up telling Razzle about the ringmaster’s threat.
“If you’re sure--“ Razzle said, pulling out his wallet and handing it over. “Here. Don’t buy too much junkfood, your teeth are your life.”
“Yeah,” Boozle said as he headed out the door. He would hitch a ride from someone driving past, probably a local farmer, and go shopping. But...
As he held out a thumb, hopping into the back of the pumpkin wagon as it rattled past slowly, he realized something important.
Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be able to go to school after all. Not if it meant risking his dad’s freedom. He was still kind of scared of the guy, but--
But what he had now was a lot better than he’d ever had before.
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