`` trying to help, hurt EVERYONE ELSE }}

[Glenneth Damien Sparrow]

glennethDAMIENsparrow

WHAT CAN YOU DO WHEN YOUR GOOD ISN'T GOOD
ENOUGH AND ALL THAT YOU TOUCH TUMBLES DOWN,
CAUSE MY BEST INTENTIONS KEEP MAKING A MESS OF
THINGS, JUST WANNA FIX IT SOMEHOW, OH, HOW
MANY TIMES WILL IT TAKE FOR ME TO GET IT RIGHT?

FULL NAME

Glenneth Damien Sparrow

NICKNAMES

Glenn - the name he tells everyone in place of "Glenneth"

GENDER

Male

AGE

Sixteen

BIRTHDAY

January First

SEXUAL ORIENTATION

Bisexual

POSITION

Damaged Soul Stables

HAIR COLOR

Black

EYE COLOR

Deep brown

BUILD

Average, a little on the thin side

HEIGHT

Five foot eight

IDENTIFYING FEATURES

Burn scar on his lower left back and on the back of his right shoulder, some other scars scattered on his upper body

FACE CLAIM

Avan Jogia

OVERALL

Glenn isn't anything special, particularly in his own opinion. He stands at a fairly average, if not slightly short, five foot six inches. His shoulders are a bit broader than any woman's, as can be expected of most guys, but his body still curves in a bit just above his hips, giving him a slender and almost feminine look. His legs are in perfect proportions to his body, though his arms are slightly longer than average. His hair is black, though not so deep that it looks like some sort of black abyss. Rather, it's bordering on dark, dark brown, but isn't quite there. His eyes are similar, though on the brown side of that line and under the right lighting they can brighten up, unlike his hair. His face is still vaguely boy-ish with gentle features and a slightly-too-big nose.

On to his clothing, it's usually fairly simple. A loose t-shirt or a tighter one with a plaid button up over top that's left open. Baggy jeans, though they always fit around the waist. Black and white converse shoes. He's also always got a pendant around his neck, a simple pewter circle tied on with black cord with a lock of white horse hair, from a tail, winding around it and tied on. The hair is from his first, and only, horse, who died in a plane crash along with his first foster family.

You'll never, ever see him in any sort of shirt with no sleeves, no matter what, though. It leaves open one of two burn marks from the plane crash, which is on the back of his right shoulder. The second burn mark is far larger and on his lower back, on the left side. It curls up, as the fire did, leaving a mark from a blotch of a burn all the way up to a point, the tip just two inches shy of his underarm. There are various other scars on his back and a few on his front from bits and pieces that stuck into his skin either from the plane crash or the car accident years earlier. He isn't ashamed of these scars, he simply hides them because he'd rather not answer the questions they'd bring.

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LIKES

Nature, being alone, people with manners, taking pictures (he likes the memories), sketching (few drawings ever get fully finished), horses (though he pretends not to care)

DISLIKES

Planes, cars, foster homes, drugs, alcohol, crowded places (vaguely claustrophobic in this manner), being misunderstood, being told everything will be alright

STRENGTHS

Drawing, catches on quickly to new concepts, good with horses (when he goes near them)

WEAKNESSES

Constantly blames himself, antisocial, rather technologically challenged

QUIRKS AND HABITS

He always has a camera in his pocket to record memories, so that he'll never forget them.

SECRETS

His biological father was slightly abusive; he doesn't think it was a long enough portion of his life to matter. He also, unlike many, seems to remember much more of his childhood than a few snippets here and there.

PERSONALITY

Glenn is commonly considered a timid boy. In truth, the word rather fits. He avoids human contact - in fact, most of the time he avoids contact with anything or anyone at all. When you do meet up with him, he's usually quiet and soft spoken, never speaking louder than he has to or saying more than he must. This does not mean he won't stand up for himself or his beliefs. He is loyal to the things he cares for to the core and has often times gotten into a fist fight in school because someone teased him.

Alongside the loyalty comes the inevitable; a fierce protectiveness. As soon as he's taken a liking to you, he's forever your guardian, your protector. He doesn't go so far as to stalk or need to know everywhere you've been, but he'll pay rapt attention to your face, your actions, your words, and your tone of voice while he's with you and he's rather good at picking up on emotions you're trying to hide. He's a shoulder to lean on or cry into, a helping hand to pull you up when you fall down. He doesn't know how to help himself, so he makes it his duty to help others whether they want his help or not. He knows when you don't need it, though, and will leave you be for the most part. He's not out to make you feel or look weak, just to do what he can to keep you from digging yourself into some sort of hole.

He has his pride, it's just more of the silent, near-stoic type that flashes in his eyes and the slight downturn of the corners or his lips, but nowhere else. Physical bullying hardly bothers him. Shove him into a locker and he won't even look at you, he'll just keep on going. That's the key to understanding him, because that's all he's doing in life. Putting one foot in front of the other and hoping he doesn't stumble and fall, because he's not quite sure he can get back up.

At the root of his personality is his fear. He fears crowds because he believes he attracts danger. He fears planes and cars because they're dangerous and unpredictable and have taken those from him who he cared for. He fears getting attached because the pain of losing everyone and everything he loved is something he still copes with and he thinks that under an added burden, he'll wilt away and become nothing more than a raving lunatic. He can't bear the thought of losing his mind, the one thing that has stayed with him and almost never left.

He documents everything. There isn't ever a time when he's not scribbling notes on his hands, arms, notebook and sleeve or taking pictures with his camera or sketching a scene. He has an incessant need to do this, almost a compulsion he can't control except he could stop any time, he just doesn't want to. He nearly lost his memories once, and to him, memories and moments are precious. He doesn't ever want this happening again, and if it does, he needs to know he has something to help him remember.

He often seems like he has no sense of humor, rarely smiling more than a little bit unless he's drawing or taking pictures, and he certainly hasn't laughed in a very long while. Of course, just because he doesn't grin with his mouth, or laugh with a burst of air through his vocal chords, that doesn't mean he simply doesn't do either ever. You need to look in his eyes to see it. The expression that the eyes are the windows to the soul is completely literal with Glenn - you can always tell exactly what he's feeling at any given time.

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PARENTS

Sarah Sparrow, deceased. Johnathan Sparrow, deceased.

SIBLINGS

None, biologically.

PETS

None

SIGNIFICANT OTHERS

Karen and Joseph Walker, deceased, first foster parents.
Katie Walker, deceased, daughter of Karen and Joseph, pseudo-sister.
All otehr foster parents he considers insignificant.

HISTORY

Glenn's life was never easy, not even on day one. It should have been, but the moment he cried out for the first time his mother also took her last breath. From that moment, he was placed with the blame of killing his mother. His father never dropped this attitude towards him, and it always left poor Glenn subdued. He was never openly beaten, but there was a constant array of verbal abuse and, when he was old enough, he would be grabbed and dragged when he couldn't keep up. This never stopped Glenn from loving the man. Although Johnathan always blamed the boy and abused him regularly, he was always there. He never left. When there was a scraped knee, he put the band-aid on. When Glenn had been bullied at daycare, his father was there to tell the other parents what-for. It was enough for Glenn. It was all he really needed, because deep down, he could tell, even at that young age, his father cared. He didn't know how to show it, but he cared. His life was thrown into a loop when he was six, though.

He had been fussing with the seatbelt, as it was uncomfortable, and his father had been driving straight so he left a hand on the wheel and reached a hand back to stop his child. The truck came out of nowhere from the intersection Johnathan had forgot about. Glenn watched in horror as the side of the car crumpled and crushed his father, that large hand still wrapped around his own and pulling it away from the seatbelt. The child didn't even notice the glass shards in his skin. Instead, he just screamed.

For the next few weeks, while he was in the hospital and under the care of child services, he was numb. He hardly ate or drank, he had vivid nightmares that caused him to scream bloody murder every night, and he never spoke a word. The Walker's and they're young girl, just two years younger than the traumatized boy, came looking to adopt another child exactly a month after the accident. They didn't care about his scars, mental or physical. Because of his condition, they wouldn't let the couple adopt him outright, but they quickly became his foster parents. They brought him to their small stable. It wasn't anything big, just a a small riding school for western and english, but the boy found solace, finally, in something while he was there.

The horses were what he lived for. Every night, he would sneak out and lay down in the stall of the small pony they'd been teaching him with. For months, the only place he could sleep without the nightmares was the golden straw of that pony's stall. The years went by, and he began to speak again and open up. The nightmares faded, though the memories didn't, and he ate ferociously, as if trying to make up for what he'd missed. Seeing the drastic improvement, the family was finally allowed to properly adopt him as their own. He reveled in the joy of having a proper family, a loving mother and father, an adorable little sister to protect. Life was perfect.

Again, he would not be lucky enough for it to stay that way. When he was twelve, they sold the farm, intending to move to the east coast and keep just a single horse, his horse. They would buy their daughter her first horse when they got there and fly to their new home with Pal, his palomino quarter horse. He never knew what went wrong, but something did. The plane crashed and burned, leaving him one of five survivors, but the other four were strangers. He didn't know them. He was alone. His horse, his family, all dead. He instantly fell back to the pattern his father had started at his birth. Glenn blamed himself.

He was in the hospital for a month, most of it due to mental trauma more than physical. He'd suffered a head trauma, forgetting most of his life. He has decided he never felt quite so scared as he did those days, when he grasped for a shadow of a memory only to have it disappear. Eventually, it all came back, but he didn't dare lose it again. He took to carrying a camera everywhere, or a sketchpad, or a pen, or something. Something to document everything so that he could never forget, so that he could copy the notes into a journal, or tape the drawings in. A memory book, he called it.

For the next three and a half years, he bounced between foster homes. It always started out okay, but then he'd have a nightmare, or break down, or something. They never knew how to handle it, how to handle him, so they said goodbye to him. He blamed himself each time. There had to have been at least twenty, he reckons, but he stopped counting. He finally hit one that intended to keep him longer. Unfortunately, they were far from kind. It was like his father turned physical, and lost that caring undertone. He couldn't handle it, he was already a rather fragile creature. He knew he didn't want to be back in the foster system, so he hitchhiked his way to Damaged Soul, begging them to take him in. He didn't want to see the horses, or care for them. They brought too many memories to surface, memories that served as a reminder of what he'd lost. But, the stable was better than a halfway house or the streets, so he manages, as he always has.

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NAME

Hazel

EXPERIENCE

Eight-ish years

REFERRAL

Owner

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Made by Hazel! Don't use on other sites without permission, 'kay? Thanks!

[Hazel]

Accepted!
Welcome to Whatever it Takes! Please make sure to post in the name list and the face claims.

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