Post by Harpsiccord on Jul 4, 2007 7:16:12 GMT -5
Name: London Alice Lydell
Nickname: Alice
Age: 18
Apparent Age: 16
Gender: Female (though his sex is Male, his gender, the sex he portrays, is female)
Sexual Orientation: Asexual as of yet.
Picture: [optional] www.deviantart.com/deviation/39930534/?qo=2&q=Skirt+boy&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5
Height: 5"7
Weight: 137
Eyes: Large, almond shaped, and gray
Hair: Short and brown. He wishes he could grow it out more.
Complexion/Build: Pale skin, with yellow undertones (he wishes for pink, though), lithe, unimpressive build.
Clothing: When not in uniform, Alice prefers to dress as a female. He is fascinated with the Lolita style (Sweet, not gothic)
Tattoos or Piercings: None
Personal
Personality: London is an extremely practical young man and in many ways he is noble, almost antiquated at heart. He believes in holding doors open for girls and women and in holding out seats for them as well. Emotions don’t play a big part in his life, but when something is troubling him, he prefers quiet reflection rather than an outburst to relieve his anxiety. He is shy around people and not very chatty, but when it comes to helping, London is always the first one to leap up and assist. He is highly curious as well, but because he is so shy, he is usually reduced to staring at the object or person that holds his interest. Eventually, though, his curiosity always wins out.
In many ways, though, London’s old fashioned beliefs clash with his gender confusion. He loves the idea of old fashioned dresses with their lacey cuffs and ribbons, but he’d much prefer to be the one wearing them. He had a lot of trouble when he was younger, as he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to have pretty ribbons in his hair or why his socks didn’t have a lining of lace around the top. Although cross-dressing is one of London’s great enjoyments, he has never once expressed interest in being a female. He is comfortable and enjoys being seen as a male.
Likes/Strengths: Sketching, logic, puzzles, chess, antique tea sets, old keys
Dislikes/Fears: Bullies and restrictive pants. He has trouble with languages and gender conformity
Favorite Food: Tea biscuits.
Hobbies: Looking through Lolita fashion magazines, sketching his
Ideal Partner: N/A
Pet Peeves: Not understanding something the first time around
History:
Constantine and Martha, London’s parents, were both museum curators as well as History majors and they both liked the idea of raising London and his older sister Aori in an almost Victorian environment. He was born in his grand, three floor house, right in his mother’s bedroom with nothing but two midwives to assist. As a young boy, London was “adopted” by his older sister (who was six years his senior) who regarded him as something of a living doll and play mate. He was quiet and had no objections to playing games where she was the mother or the school teacher and had to follow her orders. It’s unclear as to where he got his fascination with her dress clothes, but he always wanted to be dressed in them. After a while, Aori surrendered most of her old dresses to him (she didn’t much care for them anyway) and this delighted London to no end. He adored putting on her old things and going out to their large, secluded garden to look for faeries and elves, or even just to stay inside if the whether was gloomy, and listen to a story out of one of the large, old fashioned fairy stories books or go exploring for secret passages in the house.
London’s parents largely looked the other way when it came to his cross-dressing, but when it didn’t stop and he was almost ten, they enrolled him in the local boy’s school, just to be safe. To their great surprise, though, London was, by his teacher’s accounts, a completely normal boy, albeit he was spacey and prone to daydreaming. He didn’t have very many school friends, but he did have his share of prattish boys picking on him lightly, making cruel remarks. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, though.
London’s cross-dressing largely went into remission when he was eleven, but resurfaced when he was around fourteen and got his first job volunteering to keep house for a neighbor. With his newfound money, he found himself taking the long route home from school so that he could pass by the French boutique and gaze longingly at the Lolita dresses and hats and skirts they had for sale. Each time, the stops by the window were more drawn out until finally London could resist no longer and ended up buying a pair of pink frilly socks, an elegant pink corset top and a pair of pink cotton girl’s underpants. He stuffed these beneath his bed, but wore the socks to school the next day.
Eventually, he got the courage to buy more and more things from the shop, from skirts and dresses to even a pair of shoes that happened to be his size. The joy went to his head a bit and he got the idea that it would be alright to go out dressed as he was one afternoon. It ended in disaster, though, and since then London has been largely secluded and secretly ashamed of his obsession.
Eventually, Aori moved out to attend a university in France, and then moved to a small apartment somewhere in Caimbridge. She frequently visits home to see her brother, and he probably would confide in her, but the physical distance between them makes him anxious to share.
Other
He'd grown used to being by himself. Nobody really wanted to get close to him, for fear of being called a sissy. That was the way boys' school politics worked. London Alice Lyndell gave up trying to question the system now and was content with getting through the week keeping a low profile.
It wasn't always this way. He used to rather enjoy his life up until secondary school. Almost every afternoon as he sat listening to his dusty haired professor drone on about the Punic Wars, London would find himself growing wistfully nostalgic for the days when he and his older sister were inseparable. Though she was six years older than he was, she didn't seem to mind spending hours with him. Some days, those memories of being hidden away in her garden until adults nervously called for them were all that kept him going. She'd been nothing but sweet to London -- playing games with him, making daisy chains for him to wear on his head, dressing him in her clothes and pretend he was his daughter.
Maybe that's where he got such perverse pleasure in fine silky dresses, black Mary Janes and frilly ankle socks.
Saturday mornings sent a jolt through London's system, causing a tingling in his toes and making his eyes leap open at promptly seven. This Saturday was no different. His feet could barely move fast enough to carry him to the shower so that he could clean himself and choose the outfit he'd wear for the afternoon he'd spend with Alice (if she were to visit).
"London," the puce-faced housekeeper asked, "will you be taking your breakfast with your parents this morning?"
His bare, wet feet slid across the floor as he stopped, clutching the towel around his waist.
"I never do, Hannah," he said gently, "Why would today be any different?"
Without waiting for her reply, he dashed into his room, eager to get dressed. It was a little sick, he thought, how much pleasure he got from feeling the sky blue silk dress fall around his waist. Just like trousers, only nothing touched his legs. Why should they? He had a gorgeous pair of legs and thought they should be displayed. The first time he'd ever gone out in public in one of his outfits (A modest red pinafore dress, striped stockings and adorable little shoes), he thought he was sure to receive the same compliments he'd heard girls get. Nobody told him he looked lovely, though. He hadn't been patted on the cheek or been offered sweets for looking so smart, but rather, he'd gotten a few funny looks and two older boys had tried to drag him into the boy's bathroom to get a look up his skirt. He'd torn his stockings and scraped his knee before escaping to the sanctuary of the garden and refused to leave, not even when father assured him nobody would hurt him.
He couldn't bring himself to wear stockings after that.
"You look gorgeous, London," he murmured to himself, admiring his outfit in the mirror, "It's just a shame nobody else can see that."
A good ten minutes after that were spent blatantly gawking at himself. He stood on his toes, raised one leg, turned to see how he looked from behind and swept his short blond hair from one side of his face to the other. Why on earth should females have all the fun?
Just as he was about to spin again (it was great fun the way the white knickers peeked out from beneath his skirt when he did), something in the mirror caught his eye. He stepped forward, just to make sure it wasn't an illusion brought on by the sunrise. No... no, it wasn't a trick... for some queer reason, the mirror was reflecting his eyes as silver.
Squinting hard, London pressed his fingers to the cold glass and leaned forward. Silver?
His reflection winked.
"Christ...!"
Naturally, this startled him, and he took a few steps backwards, tripped over pajamas, and landed painfully in a sitting position. His sister had told him stories about queer things happening with looking glasses... and he'd sort of believed her... but...
"You're gorgeous, London," his reflection murmured, squatting down and grinning at him, "It's a shame nobody else can see that."
The boy in the mirror reached his hand out and pressed it against the glass. London watched, expecting a perfect replica of his own hand to appear. What came out instead was a hand covered in a cruel looking black and gray striped glove. There was no tome for reaction. In less than a moment it had grabbed his ankle and was pulling him towards the mirror...
((I hope it's alright that I've made a male Alice))
Nickname
Age: 18
Apparent Age: 16
Gender: Female (though his sex is Male, his gender, the sex he portrays, is female)
Sexual Orientation: Asexual as of yet.
Picture: [optional] www.deviantart.com/deviation/39930534/?qo=2&q=Skirt+boy&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5
Height: 5"7
Weight: 137
Eyes: Large, almond shaped, and gray
Hair: Short and brown. He wishes he could grow it out more.
Complexion/Build: Pale skin, with yellow undertones (he wishes for pink, though), lithe, unimpressive build.
Clothing: When not in uniform, Alice prefers to dress as a female. He is fascinated with the Lolita style (Sweet, not gothic)
Tattoos or Piercings: None
Personal
Personality: London is an extremely practical young man and in many ways he is noble, almost antiquated at heart. He believes in holding doors open for girls and women and in holding out seats for them as well. Emotions don’t play a big part in his life, but when something is troubling him, he prefers quiet reflection rather than an outburst to relieve his anxiety. He is shy around people and not very chatty, but when it comes to helping, London is always the first one to leap up and assist. He is highly curious as well, but because he is so shy, he is usually reduced to staring at the object or person that holds his interest. Eventually, though, his curiosity always wins out.
In many ways, though, London’s old fashioned beliefs clash with his gender confusion. He loves the idea of old fashioned dresses with their lacey cuffs and ribbons, but he’d much prefer to be the one wearing them. He had a lot of trouble when he was younger, as he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to have pretty ribbons in his hair or why his socks didn’t have a lining of lace around the top. Although cross-dressing is one of London’s great enjoyments, he has never once expressed interest in being a female. He is comfortable and enjoys being seen as a male.
Likes/Strengths: Sketching, logic, puzzles, chess, antique tea sets, old keys
Dislikes/Fears: Bullies and restrictive pants. He has trouble with languages and gender conformity
Favorite Food: Tea biscuits.
Hobbies: Looking through Lolita fashion magazines, sketching his
Ideal Partner: N/A
Pet Peeves: Not understanding something the first time around
History:
Constantine and Martha, London’s parents, were both museum curators as well as History majors and they both liked the idea of raising London and his older sister Aori in an almost Victorian environment. He was born in his grand, three floor house, right in his mother’s bedroom with nothing but two midwives to assist. As a young boy, London was “adopted” by his older sister (who was six years his senior) who regarded him as something of a living doll and play mate. He was quiet and had no objections to playing games where she was the mother or the school teacher and had to follow her orders. It’s unclear as to where he got his fascination with her dress clothes, but he always wanted to be dressed in them. After a while, Aori surrendered most of her old dresses to him (she didn’t much care for them anyway) and this delighted London to no end. He adored putting on her old things and going out to their large, secluded garden to look for faeries and elves, or even just to stay inside if the whether was gloomy, and listen to a story out of one of the large, old fashioned fairy stories books or go exploring for secret passages in the house.
London’s parents largely looked the other way when it came to his cross-dressing, but when it didn’t stop and he was almost ten, they enrolled him in the local boy’s school, just to be safe. To their great surprise, though, London was, by his teacher’s accounts, a completely normal boy, albeit he was spacey and prone to daydreaming. He didn’t have very many school friends, but he did have his share of prattish boys picking on him lightly, making cruel remarks. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, though.
London’s cross-dressing largely went into remission when he was eleven, but resurfaced when he was around fourteen and got his first job volunteering to keep house for a neighbor. With his newfound money, he found himself taking the long route home from school so that he could pass by the French boutique and gaze longingly at the Lolita dresses and hats and skirts they had for sale. Each time, the stops by the window were more drawn out until finally London could resist no longer and ended up buying a pair of pink frilly socks, an elegant pink corset top and a pair of pink cotton girl’s underpants. He stuffed these beneath his bed, but wore the socks to school the next day.
Eventually, he got the courage to buy more and more things from the shop, from skirts and dresses to even a pair of shoes that happened to be his size. The joy went to his head a bit and he got the idea that it would be alright to go out dressed as he was one afternoon. It ended in disaster, though, and since then London has been largely secluded and secretly ashamed of his obsession.
Eventually, Aori moved out to attend a university in France, and then moved to a small apartment somewhere in Caimbridge. She frequently visits home to see her brother, and he probably would confide in her, but the physical distance between them makes him anxious to share.
Other
He'd grown used to being by himself. Nobody really wanted to get close to him, for fear of being called a sissy. That was the way boys' school politics worked. London Alice Lyndell gave up trying to question the system now and was content with getting through the week keeping a low profile.
It wasn't always this way. He used to rather enjoy his life up until secondary school. Almost every afternoon as he sat listening to his dusty haired professor drone on about the Punic Wars, London would find himself growing wistfully nostalgic for the days when he and his older sister were inseparable. Though she was six years older than he was, she didn't seem to mind spending hours with him. Some days, those memories of being hidden away in her garden until adults nervously called for them were all that kept him going. She'd been nothing but sweet to London -- playing games with him, making daisy chains for him to wear on his head, dressing him in her clothes and pretend he was his daughter.
Maybe that's where he got such perverse pleasure in fine silky dresses, black Mary Janes and frilly ankle socks.
Saturday mornings sent a jolt through London's system, causing a tingling in his toes and making his eyes leap open at promptly seven. This Saturday was no different. His feet could barely move fast enough to carry him to the shower so that he could clean himself and choose the outfit he'd wear for the afternoon he'd spend with Alice (if she were to visit).
"London," the puce-faced housekeeper asked, "will you be taking your breakfast with your parents this morning?"
His bare, wet feet slid across the floor as he stopped, clutching the towel around his waist.
"I never do, Hannah," he said gently, "Why would today be any different?"
Without waiting for her reply, he dashed into his room, eager to get dressed. It was a little sick, he thought, how much pleasure he got from feeling the sky blue silk dress fall around his waist. Just like trousers, only nothing touched his legs. Why should they? He had a gorgeous pair of legs and thought they should be displayed. The first time he'd ever gone out in public in one of his outfits (A modest red pinafore dress, striped stockings and adorable little shoes), he thought he was sure to receive the same compliments he'd heard girls get. Nobody told him he looked lovely, though. He hadn't been patted on the cheek or been offered sweets for looking so smart, but rather, he'd gotten a few funny looks and two older boys had tried to drag him into the boy's bathroom to get a look up his skirt. He'd torn his stockings and scraped his knee before escaping to the sanctuary of the garden and refused to leave, not even when father assured him nobody would hurt him.
He couldn't bring himself to wear stockings after that.
"You look gorgeous, London," he murmured to himself, admiring his outfit in the mirror, "It's just a shame nobody else can see that."
A good ten minutes after that were spent blatantly gawking at himself. He stood on his toes, raised one leg, turned to see how he looked from behind and swept his short blond hair from one side of his face to the other. Why on earth should females have all the fun?
Just as he was about to spin again (it was great fun the way the white knickers peeked out from beneath his skirt when he did), something in the mirror caught his eye. He stepped forward, just to make sure it wasn't an illusion brought on by the sunrise. No... no, it wasn't a trick... for some queer reason, the mirror was reflecting his eyes as silver.
Squinting hard, London pressed his fingers to the cold glass and leaned forward. Silver?
His reflection winked.
"Christ...!"
Naturally, this startled him, and he took a few steps backwards, tripped over pajamas, and landed painfully in a sitting position. His sister had told him stories about queer things happening with looking glasses... and he'd sort of believed her... but...
"You're gorgeous, London," his reflection murmured, squatting down and grinning at him, "It's a shame nobody else can see that."
The boy in the mirror reached his hand out and pressed it against the glass. London watched, expecting a perfect replica of his own hand to appear. What came out instead was a hand covered in a cruel looking black and gray striped glove. There was no tome for reaction. In less than a moment it had grabbed his ankle and was pulling him towards the mirror...
((I hope it's alright that I've made a male Alice))