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Griffin "Julian" Thatcher

"I don't suffer from my insanity--I enjoy every damn minute of it."

0 · 735 views · located in Milowe Campgrounds

a character in “Hanging By A Rope”, as played by 143xinfinity

Description

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{Name}
"I wish my name was Carl."
Griffin Augustus Julian Thatcher

{Nicknames)
"I have tons of nicknames. Some of which are harsh."
Julian || Gus || Thatcher || Twitch || Griff || August || Meathead

{Gender}
"What did you think I was?"
Male

{Birthday | Age}
"My zodiac's a Scorpio."
March 26th, 1997 || 16

{Romantic Interest}
"Psh.."
To be filled out later.

{Sexuality}
"I'm not into the whole 'falling in love' crap."
Heteroflexible


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{Hair}

Griffin's hair has probably been the only reason why girl's even come near him. They love to run their fingers through the dark curly locks. His hair has always been a part of his personality for it's unbearably messy, voluminous, and plan right disheveled.

{Eye color}

Griffin's eyes are enthralling, like sparkling kaleidoscopes of color. They are celery green, but also ocean blue. Dashes of chestnut brown specks around his irises.

{Height | Weight}

6'0'' || 142lbs

{Ethnicity}

86% Irish || 10% African American || 62% American

{Detailed}

When people see Griffin they don't see him as hot or even indescribably sexy, no, when people see Griffin Thatcher they automatically think he's this cute, nerdy guy who everyone can't get enough of. His thick brows - for some particular reason- have always been his favorite feature that quirk up when he thinks you're just being ridiculous, or that quiver in a wave motion whenever he thought you were attractive and trying- unsuccessfully- to flirt. Underneath the brows, Griffin has these dazzling green eyes, a straight nose, and full lips that have been picked at numerous times from boredom, or even stress. As far as looks go, Griffin has this lanky, narrow physique that everyone seems to find amusing.

Griffin's outfits consist of a casual range of clothes each dark in color. One notable piece of clothing is his black Harrington Jacket, usually worn over several graphic t-shirts. He usually wears skinny jeans, (black or denim) and wears simple burgundy, teal or grey t-shirts. He wears black and grey converses as shoes and always wears a metal necklace around his neck. Occasionally he will wear an open shirt over a t-shirt, or a dark hoodie. In addition, a cigarette would mostly be added as a part of an accessory for his outfit.



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{Personality}
Courteous || Generally
Risk-Taking || Typically
Ambitious || Occasionally
Curious || Usually
Self-Controlled || Sometimes
Tempermatic || Occasionally
Nurturing || Generally
Trusting || Sometimes
Honest || Often
Loyal || Sometimes
Affectionate || Occasionally
Romantic || Generally
Flirty || Often
Sympathetic || Generally
Altruistic || Never
Optimistic || Rarely
Observant || Occasionally
Logical || Often
Social || Usually outgoing
Emotions || Fairly controlled

Griffin is a guy who says whatever he wants, whenever he wants. To put it this way, he'll likely make your life a living hell. He's flawed in more ways than one, never achieving that sense of self-worth that all teenagers seek. However, despite his trials, he is strong. Don't let that lanky physique fool you; Griffin is stronger mentally and emotionally than ever before. He's a bright individual that knows his way around the field of magic and isn't afraid to say what it on his mind. Yes, he is honest...but to a fault. He has a hard time lying to others, but he is capable of lying to himself. He a bit of a pessimist; his outlook on muggles due the abuse he faced. Despite his cynical personality, Griffin always manages to have a smile on his face. Whether he's being petty, condescending, or just a plain smartass, that smile never goes away. He likes to think that it expresses more malice than a sneer.

His outspokenness aside, Griffin is a walking wound. He bears the scars of his suicidal attempts and will never forget the hell he survived. Due to his past, he closes himself off; allowing people to only see the outgoing side of him and hides the melancholy thoughts that excessively plague his mind. He's self-destructive underneath that undying grin. He's broken in spite of his clever jokes and entertaining pranks. He's suicidal regardless of his vast knowledge and tenacity. Griffin is a walking wound...that's surrounded by the shards of what he used to be.

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{Disorder | Reason At Camp}
"They said I was crazy. Well, y'know what? Life sucks anyway."
w.i.p




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{Likes}
+Cigarettes
+ Rock Music
+ Quoting words from famous poems
+
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{Dislikes}
- Medication
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- Talking about the past
- Not knowing how to control his emotions
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-

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{History}


Before Griffin Thatcher was sent to Milowe Camp, his life began at St. Agnes Orphanage in North Carolina. Even at a young age, he was the kid that no one would play with and thought was really odd, so he didn't have an abundance of friends. Alone, Griffin was imprisoned by the system. He didn't get adopted until he was seven and he was verbally abused in that household for a total of five years. They threatened Griffin with things like: "Say a word about this, and you're dead." Mentally scarred, Griffin began taking drugs at the age of twelve. Everyday after school he'd hang out with the kids who were often known to avoid, but not to him. These were his people. The 'Reject' clique. As long as he brought the money, and they brought him the drugs, there wasn't any problem. It has went on like this for three months until one day him and his clique were caught injecting heroin into their forearm in which left Griffin unconscious and not know what fully happened afterwards. Griffin was hospitalized for nearly four weeks because of the heroin. He spent days, nights even, getting treated and was put on a ventilator for the three days he's been there.

On the day that he was to be sent home, once he walked his way through his front door, he was only battered with verbal assault by his foster parents. "Worthless", "Waste of space,", "Idiot!" This, along with other things, was told to Griffin on the daily. He couldn't do anything about it. All he could really do was listen and learn to accept that he was really nothing. When it took him to finally realize that no one ever cared about a guy of the name Griffin Thatcher, or even his feelings. Now, he's out of the closet and doesn't give a damn about anyone. The scars are still there, but he's learned how to cover them.


{Other}
~ Ever since being sent to Milowe, Griffin was forced to give away smoking. This soon lead him on antidepressants.

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Robert Sheehan

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She is everywhere I go
Everyone I see
Winter's gone and I still can't sleep
Summer's on the way
At least that's what they say
But these clouds won't leave

Walk away
Barely breathing
As I'm lying on the floor
Take my heart
As you're leaving
I don't need it anymore

This is the memory
This is the curse of having
Too much time to think about it
It's killing me
This is the last time
This is my forgiveness
This is endless

Now spring has brought the rain
But I still see your face
And I can not escape the past
Creeping up inside
Reminding me that I
Can never bring you back

This is the memory
This is the curse of having
Too much time to think about it
It's killing me
This is the last time
This is my forgiveness
This is endless

This is endless [3x]
Someone help me
'Cause the memory
Convinced itself to tear me apart
And it's gonna succeed before long

This is the memory
This is the curse of having
Too much time to think about it
It's killing me
This is the last time
This is my forgiveness
This is endless
This is endless

Someone help me
'Cause the memory
Convinced itself to tear me apart
And it's gonna succeed before long
(This is endless)

She is everywhere I go
Everyone I see
But these clouds won't leave

So begins...

Griffin "Julian" Thatcher's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hanley Mae Kane Character Portrait: Josephine Duchannes Character Portrait: Griffin "Julian" Thatcher Character Portrait: Wiley B. Hart Character Portrait: Delia Manon Character Portrait: Keith Zetterstorm

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Setting
54 Degrees Fahrenheit | 12 Degrees Celsius
The rain was unexpected to everyone. The forecast said nothing about the sudden downpour. This was no gentle sprinkle of water, this seemed like a flooding rain. Roads have been slippery for those who are arriving to the campgrounds. Drive carefully new comers.


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"Hanley, are you even listening to me?" her sister, Jessica, said with irritation, ripping the black ear buds from Hanley's ear.
"What?" Hanley sighed, finally looking to her older sister.
"I was just saying that Mom and Dad wanted to wish you a good summer because it seems like we're close" her sister repeated. Hanley simply rolled her eyes.
"Yes, you see I may have believed that if they were here themselves, but no, they're in the Bahamas for 'business'" Hanley muttered.
"They're working, stop being such a bitch about it Hanners"
"Because you totally need to work over every Holiday known to man. Jess, they're home a month out of the year, and then they're gone. All we is the money that they send us to keep us happy"
"The money works for me. I don't get why you're complaining. I don't even get why you're going to this emo camp, you don't have anything to be depressed about. Sad to be swimming in cash?" her sister mocked, making Hanley grit her teeth.
"Sorry then" she replied coldly before putting her headphone back in, and cranking her music higher than her sister's voice. It wasn't 15 minutes later when they pulled into the driving lot of the main cabin. It was surprisingly modern. This was no ordinary camp it seemed. Everything was extravagant and nice, probably to try to make people feel more...at home. Though one could argue it felt like more of a hotel. Taking her headphones out she put the hood up on her coat.
"Bye Jess" she simply said. Her sister waved and popped open the trunk for Hanley to get all her things. The trunk was full of multiple suitcases considering Hanley was to be there an entire summer. She saw her sister wave one last time as she attempted to go as fast as she could with the amount of things she had into the main cabin. Immediately she was greeted by one of the staff. An older, yet nice looking man.
"Hello ma'm. I'm Miyer Milowe, founder of this camp. I'm glad you found your way, it looks terrible outside" he said casually, smiling warmly at the girl.
"Oh hello Mr.Milowe. I'm Hanley Kane. Oh yes it's terrible out. It began pouring out of no where" she answered with her normal pseudo smile that she always wore.
"It sounds like it, here I can have someone bring your things to your cabin. Just place them on the rack there" he pointed. Hanley did as she was told. So it was like a hotel. A hotel with therapist and doctors watching you to assure you don't end up dead anyway.

"Thank you, this is much nicer than your typical summer camp it seems. You did a wonderful job with the place" she said as he ushered her to sit on the sofas in the main room. It was a truly wonderful looking place.
"We're awaiting other guest as well, I typically do not allow the students to go to their cabins until they have met everyone" he explained as he went back to the door to wait for more people. Hanley took the brochure about Camp Milowe off the coffee table and skimmed her eyes through it as she waited for more people to arrive to "emo camp".




Outfit

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hanley Mae Kane Character Portrait: Josephine Duchannes Character Portrait: Griffin "Julian" Thatcher Character Portrait: Wiley B. Hart Character Portrait: Delia Manon Character Portrait: Keith Zetterstorm

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Josephine Duchannes seemed somewhat drawn into the music that sounded from her Ipod. It's soft verse from the piano rung in her ears as she laid her head back against the head rest, and watched as every tree passed by in streaks of forest green and brown. The rain from outside trickled and taped on the roof of her parent's Acura in a calming and soothing rhythm, that left her weary.

She had spent nearly an hour or two clamped in the backseat as her parents drove her to this camp that she was force to attend.
What was it called again? Camp Milowe? To Josephine, it seemed more like she was being sent to an Insane Asylum rather than a camp she would be staying at over the summer.

Did she want to go? No.

Most importantly did she have a choice? She wished, or else she wouldn't be damn there suffocating from all her luggage that was surrounding her in the small atmosphere. If she thought that this was worse, wait until she sees her cabin. She's not the biggest fan on closed spaces, infact, she'd bust through the walls just to get out.

Josephine's eyes were just starting to give out until she heard her mother's usual aloof voice, with a hint of an Australian tone underneath, from up front in the passenger's side, "It says here that campers are allowed to mingle with the other campers." Josephine didn't miss the hint of disgust in her mother's tone. She peeked an eye open at her mother scanning the brochure, but said nothing.

"Suprised," her father said."I'd thought they'd lock them up in one of those straight jackets and lock them a padded cell." At that, Josephine's parents burst into hysterics. However, she only retorted back to them, "Like you both done to me for five years?" She gave out a halfheartedly chuckle. "Oh, but wait. I'm supposed to be the victim here?"

That shut them up. "Josephine Angèlle Duchannes," her mother pronounced her full name in a gasp. At that moment, her father pulled the car into an vacant parking space in front of a small cabin, which had a small sign over the door reading: Main Cabin. After grabbing her two luggage, she hopped out the car -the rain already beginning to kiss at her hair-, shutting the door after her at the same time her father opened the trunk. He handed her a duffel bag that withheld all her necessities and brought his lips to her forehead. "You have fun. Okay, Jo?" he whispered between her hair. Josephine snorted,"It's a camp for the depressed, dad."

"Right," her father agreed. "Well, be careful." He gave her one more peck on the head before releasing her.

Josephine slung the duffel bag over her shoulders, and managed to roll her luggage down the rugged concrete. Halfway at the front door, she turned around- her damped hair whipping at her face- and looked at her father. He was standing out in the rain looking back at his little girl. He knew that she would only be away for the summer, but it was as if he wasn't enjoying the thought of her leaving.

Then, she glanced her mother who stayed in the car waiting impatiently for her husband to drive back home. The atmosphere around there was too depressing even for her; the rain just added to the dejection. Josephine hated her mother. And she was sure that she wasn't her biggest fan either. Some would say that they had this "unbalanced" relationship that just wouldn't stabilize itself.

Josephine raised a hand in goodbye, before walking down a little stone path lined with dark hedges and stepping unwillingly into the cabin. Inside, Josephine rubbed her hands on her arms nearly freezing as she looked around in awe. The room was brightly lit, and warmer than she'd hoped. The room was small, though, picturesque to say the least with leather padded sofas, wooden floorings, paneled walls, a huge fireplace where an old clock ticked loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside.

Josephine hadn't noticed before, but sitting on one of the sofas was girl with long black hair who happened to be reading one of those brochures her mother had earlier. She crossed over to an empty seat near her, moved a drenched strand of her hair behind her ear,smiled tentatively, and sat beside the girl in the revolving chair. She picked up one of the brochures the the girl had, and sat waiting for the other campers to make way.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hanley Mae Kane Character Portrait: Josephine Duchannes Character Portrait: Griffin "Julian" Thatcher Character Portrait: Wiley B. Hart Character Portrait: Delia Manon Character Portrait: Keith Zetterstorm

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{Outfit}

“You better have picked up all the shit I left for you at the door. Because if I spot one speck of anything, your ass will be finding it’s own way home.”
Wiley’s mother tussled her newly highlighted hair onto her shoulders, adjusting the rear-view mirror to apply her last layer of makeup. How much she were to put on was Wiley’s timetable to how close they were to the campsite; They were nearing their destination.

Wiley spent the last nine-hours listening to his mother’s list of problems and rancid scolding. With any attempt to drain out her sour fulminate, he’d receive a hot iron slap to any exposing skin that was in her reach. By now, his left cheek must have been as red as a summer tomato. Besides, if he was given the choice, a constant thunder of classic rock in the company of his father’s silence was he least he could ask for.

In spite of that, Wiley’s parents dealt out his appointments, meetings, and checkups by the flip of a coin. This time however, by the silent swear session of his mother, the coin fell in favor of his father. Her effort to keep it under wrap stung his skin like candied mouthwash. It was debatable if she truly meant what she said about his health being top priority.

“You’re lucky I was the one who ended up taking you,” his mother interrupted his afternoon sloth, tapping his shoulder to make sure she got his attention. ”I heard your father caught bronchitis from one of his late night snacks. Tsk, serves that bastard right.” Her remaining smile bounced into a cold white crescent, sinking in a web of soft wrinkles.

“Why don’t you just get a divorce?” After many failed attempts, Wiley managed to inject a question. Regardless, it was one he found himself asking annually; yet the answer, which now burrowed its way closer to the truth, has finally made it's way to her vocal cords.

“Because at this rate your father should drop dead, I want the asshole’s money.” A swift but truthful tone fluttered in her response, her eyes blinked toward him in a modest apology. “Anyway, our problems aren't the least of your worries. This little summer camp with allow you to get all mushy and listen to people complain. Just think of it as an vacation from your daily shit load.” His mother turned her gaze back to the rain muck roads, allowing her son a chance to comment.

In spite of everything , Wiley didn't have much of one. His questions required answers his mother had no solution to and much of his complaints were like arguing about a color neither of them had ever seen. He slid down his chair as the sight of endless trees made him sick to his stomach; it would take murder to get him out of a place like this.
–-
After getting a few hours of rest, Wiley's eyes slung open with the car's sudden halt and the click of his mother's unbuckling seat belt. His heavy eyes examined the cabins before him, “Shit.”

His mother slapped him awake with her raw palm, “Morning sunshine, your summer paradise is just upon us.” She leaned over Wiley, presenting him with a wide smile. “I think I just saw Mr. Milowe and I think I'll go say hi.” She freshened her lipstick and readjusted her sweater, “For your safety of course.”

Wiley had a half sleepy, disgusted expression sewn onto his face, and one he hadn't used since elementary.

“Please, for the love of Christ, can you not hit on the camp workers?” Wiley reached in the backseat and gripped a large haversack, tugging it out with him as he exited the car. His mother followed suit. He allowed his scenery to seep in; a gloomy, chilled atmosphere that instantly made his stomach tie into deeper knots. He imagined the tooth decaying smile of the owner, he could only imagine what the workers would be like. Throwing on his hood, he continued further into the site.

Without much help from his wondering mother, Wiley called out an empty goodbye without the uncertainty if it reached her. Pausing for a moment, he took swift steps on the stone path toward the welcoming lodge, or 'Main Cabin' as it was more properly named. Upon a brief glance through the windows, he noticed two others in dead silence, holding a similar brochure his doctor had handed his mother the moment he mentioned the place. Without another moment to consider it, he stepped in the main doors to join the room with the sound of rain once again.

Taking in yet another new setting, Wiley ran his boots against the door mat and watched the others closely. Both younger, his same age? He couldn't tell. But what he did manage to diagnosis from their human shell was that they both had hard lives. How sever or what supplied it was yet another distant article he didn't have access too.

He sat at the far end of the sofa, tossing his waterlogged bag onto the wooden coffee table. With a short nod to the girls, he sunk into the leather folds of the sofa, his eyelids drooped as if bricks were glued to them.

“Now we wait.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hanley Mae Kane Character Portrait: Josephine Duchannes Character Portrait: Griffin "Julian" Thatcher Character Portrait: Wiley B. Hart Character Portrait: Delia Manon Character Portrait: Keith Zetterstorm

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Delia Manon


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Delia stared out the window of her brothers ford, tracing the droplets that ran down. Years ago she'd make this a game with her father. They'd each pick one droplet and whoever picked the fastest one won the game. Her dad always had a nack for picking the right one.

Humming along to some country singer Delia couldn't name her brother Mason sent her a small smile. He knew Delia didn't want to go to this camp, but as he told her a week ago;

'I want what's best for you, please trust me Del...'

As always she relented.

After what seemed like a eternity Mason pulled into the derry looking camp that Delia would be spending her pitiful life at. 'S'not that bad eh Del?' He nudged her shoulder playfully. 'I reckon you'll have fun here.'

I'm at some camp for messed up people. What fun could be found on that?

'Sure Mason...I might.' Her bother only sighed in response before opening the door. 'Beautiful day Del! Rain ain't that bad. Means something better is coming!' Mason was always like this. So happy. If he didn't have work Delia was sure he'd be here every day shouting words of comfort at her cabin mates.

Biting the inside of her lip Delia got out and her brother was there in an instant, offering his hand. She took it gratefully, happy to be close to him before she'd be stuck in this hell hole.

'Would ya like me to walk you up Del?' He wiggled his eyebrows. 'I wanna let all the guys and gals here know that if they wanna go after my lil Del they got ta go through me!'

Delia chuckled, although it was mostly to make her brother happy. 'I doubt that will happen Mason. No one would look for a relationship here.'

Mason only shruged. 'You never know Del.' He looked around the camp, wrinkling his nose at the smell of rain. He always hated it. 'I guess I'll say goodbye to you here Del. My boss would kill me if I got my boots dirty and I know ya don't want me embarrassin ya.'

His arms were outstretched and Delia leaned into the hug. This would be the last one they would have for a while and she wanted it to last. They shared the usual I love you, and be safe, and before Delia knew it she was watching Mason's truck drive out of sight.

Sighing Delia drug her feet through the wet grass. She stopped at the door to the main cabin, starting at it in disgust. This was one place she didn't wanna go.

Taking the doorknob with a shaking hand she slowly opened the door, and to her suprise three other children, her camp mates she supposed, sat. Two of them held the packets that Mason had read to her many times in a overly cheerful voice.

Deciding that her best bet to sit and avoid talking to to those around her was to be near the napping boy, she took a hesitant seat by him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hanley Mae Kane Character Portrait: Josephine Duchannes Character Portrait: Griffin "Julian" Thatcher Character Portrait: Wiley B. Hart Character Portrait: Delia Manon Character Portrait: Keith Zetterstorm

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The man that welcomed people in, aka, Mr.Milowe looked a bit troubled at the front desk. Hanley was curious, but she couldn't hear the whispering no matter how hard she tried. People sat around her, and she tensed up as she felt pressure onto the couch. She held her own hand in her lap, and looked down at heeled black boots. Hanley was always a girl to keep to herself. She made herself small, invisible to some.

Mr.Milowe went to the front of the room to look at the teenagers that had gathered onto the couch.
"Welcome all. It seems we are missing one person, but I'm sure they'll show soon. If I have't introduced myself, I am Mr. Milowe, founder of this summer camp. It will be a pleasure to be with you all for this summer, and hopefully we can all make progress together. All of you are here because of your own reasons, and I will remind you that everything you tell your therapist or myself is purely confidential unless we believe you are a harm to us, yourself, or others. You all will meet the therapist here at dinner.
Lets start off with introductions. Please say your name, favorite color, and 3 hobbies you have. Let's start with the young lady with the black hair"
Mr. Milowe spoke. Hanley quickly looked up from her lap before meeting his gaze, breaking it a second later. Why must she be first?
"I'm Hanley. My favorite color is purple, and I write, play bass, and draw" she almost whispered, Mr. Milowe had to lean towards her to properly hear.
"Nice to meet you Hanley. You play piano? We have one in the rec hall you are free to use" he said kindly.
"Cool" Mr. Milowe was having a very one sided conversation with the girl, so he moved on, looking to another to speak up. Hanley sunk back into the couch after she was done speaking, and resumed her earlier position of keeping her head down.



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