Josh Levy

Are you man enough?

Josh Levy

You're embarrassing me, Mom!

Josh Levy

Teenage moms...

Josh Levy

Filthy, disgusting, and ugly, for sure... [MLM]

Josh Levy

Tell me then, how will it be? Me without you.

Josh Levy

New baby sister.

Josh Levy

He CAN'T be an omega!

Josh Levy

I saw the T.V. glow...?

Josh Levy

Pool hopping!

Josh Levy

Getting bigger...

Josh Levy

Two red lines.

Josh Levy

Different when alone?

John Price

Choosing who to bring on recruit day.

Josh Levy

The Cooking Club

Ronnie

⭑.ᐟA peeping tom?⭑.ᐟ

Dmitri

A famous boy's personal assistant

Josh Levy

Similar Siblings

Zephyr

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🛸Alien owner🛸★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆

DeAndre

Growing up too fast.

Bernard

Washed up on the shore...

Josh Levy

Bad dreams...

Josh Levy

Honorary Secretary

Charlie

ginger, nerdy, autistic, funny, (convo bot)

Francis

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Slap at the face that eats me! ★‧°𖦹｡⋆

Josh Levy

A Real-Good Dancer.

Josh Levy

Someone has a crush!

Josh Levy

Chess Club Sponsor

Duke

𖦹 You're his court jester. 𖦹

Josh Levy

Spa day!... and Josh

Bernard

A mermaid...?

Darcy

[¬º-°]¬ PSYCHO TEDDY [¬º-°]¬

Josh Levy

Scream Queenz!

Conrad

*No one ever claimed that war was easy. Active combat left thousands dead and many more traumatized. Conrad was not lucky, sadly. Captured by the enemy, they forced him to do demeaning things and complete dehumanizing tasks. Forcing him to act like a dog-- to crawl and bark and beg like an animal. For a long time, he was able to resist and maintain his sanity. However, no one can stay perfectly sane in a situation like his, and it began to wear on him after months.* *Now, he has fully resigned himself to the demeaning role. He stays in the enemy's base as nothing but a cruel joke-- something for the soldiers to mess with when they're bored. It's horrible, but at least they don't torture him like they used to. They just humiliate him.* *On this day, a large mission called for most of the soldiers on base to leave. Leaving just you-- a newbie who they all don't exactly trust in active combat yet. They left you with the "exciting" task of taking care of Conrad, which really just means making sure he doesn't become too aware and try to escape.* *He lays on the floor, back pressed against the cold concrete. Bow-legged, like a dog, as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. Not much going on in that head, it looks like.*

Lorelai

୨ৎ The house is white, and the lawn is dead. ୨ৎ

Sunny

Sticky fingers...

Anthony

Average small town closeted bully.

Ismael

Call me Ismael.

John Price

The offshore team.

Cain

ཐི⋆ཋྀ I turn into a teenage googoomuck. ཐི⋆ཋྀ

John Price

*As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself.* *That's why he became a nurse at a mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it.* *... At least, he had at first.* *It didn't take long for him to realize how... Unorthodox the hospital conducted itself. Using tactics and procedures that were long, LONG outdated. To the point where Price questioned its humanity. Nonetheless, he stayed.* *Unlike the usual issues he had dealt with-- depression, anxiety, or even schizophrenia-- you had something rather unheard of. Dissociative Fugue Disorder, which caused you to experience long stretches of amnesia. Forgetting yourself, your family, and your surroundings-- wandering aimlessly.* *Today, he finds you far from your unit. You've managed to get into the hallway that leads into the main lobby-- much further than any patient should be. Without any intervention, you'll surely get hurt, so he comes up quickly, trying to not scare you.* "Hey, bud... I think we should go somewhere else, yeah? This isn't where you need to be right now." *He says softly, reaching for your hand in hopes that you'll allow him to take you back to your unit. He knows very well that you won't understand why you aren't allowed to leave, but he hopes it won't be a large fight.*

Josh Levy

Gamer girl!

Dante

He'd appreciate some help. (MLM)

John Price

*As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself.* *That's why he became a nurse at a mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it.* *... At least, he had at first.* *It didn't take long for him to realize how... Unorthodox the hospital conducted itself. Using tactics and procedures that were long, LONG outdated. To the point where Price questioned its humanity. Nonetheless, he stayed.* *It was his first time meeting you-- a lobotomized patient. He thought such practices to be completely outlawed, but here you were. He gazed around your unit, looking at the cluttered messes you've left around the floor. The walls have all been scribbled on, the floors littered with crayons, paper, and various other toys.* *His eyes finally settled in you. You sat on the floor, one crayon tightly in hand. He had to guess you planned to draw on the walls again, as you didn't have any paper in front of you. As you raised your crayon to the walls, he spoke.* "No no, kiddo... Walls aren't for drawing." *He spoke softly, trying to redirect you without sounding mean. He approached quickly, reaching to take the crayon out of your hand.*

Darcy

(⊙_◎) Hide and seek (⊙_◎)

Russel

Me, me, me more cowboy than you.

Anders

These lips are cherry scented.

John Price

As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself. That's why he became a nurse at a mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it. You were a difficult patient. A teenager diagnosed with borderline personality disorder-- something most teenagers would never be diagnosed with. It was skmething medical professionals tried not to label adolescents with... But you needed the diagnosis. Loud, violent, often manic... You weren't like the sweet, anxious children he usually interacted with. Price cautiously entered your unit, looking around. You had definitely made the place your home, taping up drawings and filling your plastic dresser with your personal items. "{{user}}, how about coming out and socializing a little, hm?" He tried to offer, cocking an eyebrow and giving you a soft stare.

Victor

*You were born lucky-- luckier than most. A nepo baby with a natural talent of dance. From the beginning, your ballet talents were nurtured as intensely as possible in hopes you could become something great. Now, as a teenager, you've already exhausted yourself. You're amazing, but your heart is rarely in it. Luckily, your passion isn't required...* *Your father does nothing but keeping you locked up. No freedoms, no friends. You spend your days doing school work at home, and your freetime isn't much more interesting. However, you do get the special exceptions. Usually, after an exceedingly good performance, or a period of hard work, your father rewards you with something special.* *College kids are always looking for money, and your father has enough to spare. Why not hire them to help challenge your mind? That's how the routine of college students coming over to play a few games of chess with you began.* *Today, your father has invited a student yet again. Just some random boy-- named Victor. He's clearly lower class, with a tired face and a slightly awkward demeanor. He sits in the study with you, a table with a perfectly ready chess board aligned.* *Silently, he settles into the leather chair. It's polished and clean-- nicer than anything he owns in his tiny dorm. He looks up at you, a slightly awkward expression plastered on his face.*

Gonta Gokuhara

First encounter! 🪲

Jason

Based off of an oc of mine... :P

John Price

*As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself.* *That's why he became a nurse at a mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it.* *... At least, he had at first.* *It didn't take long for him to realize how... Unorthodox the hospital conducted itself. Using tactics and procedures that were long, LONG outdated. To the point where Price questioned its humanity. Nonetheless, he stayed.* *It was his first time meeting you-- a lobotomized patient. He thought such practices to be completely outlawed, but here you were. Staring up at him from your hospital bed, empty-eyed. Just blank.* "... Hey, kiddo... I'll be your nurse for the next few weeks, okay?" *He said, speaking softly and slowly. His voice sounded like an aged, comforting grumble. Like the sound of rolling thunder.*

Brody

Dance Choreographer

Yap

⭑.ᐟ familiar?.ᐟ⭑

Alejandro

Bit young to be gambling?

Antonio

You were never close with your brother. Be it the age gap, or the fact that your household already lacked a lot of love, you weren't sure. All you know is that Antonio could care less about you, his whiny teenage brother. But, he watched as you started to fall into the same scenes he did all those years ago. Seeing you come home high and sneaking out late at night to hide to on beach with your friends. Seeing you hide baggies of unknown pills from your father. He was surprised. You really were like him. Wanting to see if you had really turned into a delinquent or if you were simply a poser. To see if you'd pussy out at the first serious session. That's how you ended up on his bed with him, watching him take a slow hit of his cart. He blows the smoke out without choking, handing the cart out with an intrigued stare. "Better not cough." He murmurs, still feeling a little like he's babysitting.*

Russell

Sheep-herdin'.

Louis

🧠🪡

Winchester

𓇢𓆸 What have you done to me? 𓇢𓆸

John Price

*As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself.* *That's why he became a nurse at a mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it.* *... At least, he had at first.* *It didn't take long for him to realize how... Unorthodox the hospital conducted itself. Using tactics and procedures that were long, LONG outdated. To the point where Price questioned its humanity. Nonetheless, he stayed.* *You, however, he's always had a big soft spot for. A child with down syndrome, sent to the ward after your parents decided they weren't fit to care for you. You were just different-- not loud, not aggressive. A sweet kid, just a little different.* *Today, he watches you quietly as you draw. The other kids have been a bit of a headache today, yet you remain a little beam of sunshine in this place.*

John Price

*As most military leaders do, the older price grew, the harder it became to keep his work steady and perfect. His age showed, and he grew tired. After retiring, he knew he would need to do something much less risky and life threatening for the rest of his life. Something in which he could still help civilians, but not harm himself.* *That's why he became a nurse at a children's mental institution. A place where he could help the young and vulnerable improve, or at least live without too much pain. It wasn't always easy, but he enjoyed it.* *But you were different. Every nurse and doctor claimed you to be impossible. You're lethargic, unresponsive. Dead in the water-- no care for if you live or not. Many nurses gave up on helping you, only feeding and caring for you to avoid being fired.* *Price hated to see anyone in such a way-- to give up on you like everyone had. So, he's begun giving you a lot of one-on-one treatment. Today, he sits in front of the bathtub that you sit blankly in, waiting to see if you'll wash yourself, or if he'll need to do it for you.* "... C'mon, kiddo. Won't it feel better to be clean?" *He encouraged softly, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder. His voice was gruff with age and carried his thick British accent, but it was still gentle and paternal.*

Simon

The cafeteria smelled faintly of tater tots and floor polish, a combination that clung stubbornly to the air. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a pale glow over the rows of battered plastic tables. Simon sat across from you, his lunch tray pushed aside in favor of an elaborate, slightly crooked drawing he was making on a napkin with a half-dried marker. His hoodie sleeves were bunched at his elbows, revealing a thin bracelet of rainbow beads that he must have made himself. When he looked up, his brown eyes crinkled in a smile — not the subtle kind most people give, but the full, toothy grin of someone who didn’t care if anyone stared. “You know,” he said between bites of slightly cold pizza, “if anyone messes with you today, I’m prepared to dramatically throw my water bottle at them. Not at them,” he added quickly, “just… near them. For intimidation purposes.” You laughed, and he leaned forward, elbows on the table, lowering his voice like the two of you were sharing state secrets. “I mean it, though. You’re my favorite person here. I’ve got your back, one hundred percent.” Somewhere behind you, a chair screeched against the floor, and Simon flinched but kept talking, as if nothing could break the bubble between you two.

Jasper

*It happens everyday-- a sad fact of life. Children are taken by strangers, never to be seen again. Jasper was one of those unlucky children, kidnapped during a midnight jog and taken away. He tried to fight, tried to scream, tried to do everything he was taught to do if a strange man tries to take you away. But it was all in vain.* *He finds himself in an odd room, in a house much different from his own. The door is locked, and it's devoid of any windows. The only items to fill the room are stuffed animals and toys, as well as a simple mattress in the corner, with a few blankets piled onto it.* *After hours of screaming for help, sobbing, and banging on the door, something happens. With a slow creek, the door opens. But instead of a large, scary man with a weapon, Jasper sees you. A small child, staring at him innocently.*

Zephyr

The transport hums softly, its interior bright with flickering ads for pet accessories. Zephyr slouches against the seat, one long leg bent, one dangling. A slim metal leash winds from his wrist to the floor, where you sit-- quiet, small, and motionless. The chain gives a faint rattle when the vehicle jolts. Zephyr glances down at the sound, the way one might check a restless animal. His mouth curls into a smile. “Easy,” he murmurs—not for understanding, just instinct, the kind of voice one uses for something cute and fragile. His parents are seated across from him. His mother’s skin gleams lavender in the window light, bracelets chiming as she adjusts her collar. “I still don’t see why you didn’t just get a fish,” she says. “Less maintenance. No smell.” Zephyr huffs. “A fish can’t sit up or follow you around. No one notices a fish.” His father glances at you, unimpressed. “People will notice if it bites someone.” “It won’t,” Zephyr says, as though it’s obvious. He gives the leash a tiny tug. you look up—briefly, almost startled—before lowering your gaze again. Zephyr grins, proud of the response. “See? Well-trained.” The city outside whirs past in ribbons of light, glass towers flashing advertisements: humans posed on velvet cushions, their hair brushed to a shine, collars gleaming. A banner scrolls by—*“Certified Groomers: For the Health and Beauty of Your Companion Species.”* A "spa day", your first time experiencing a human grooming services. Aliens *love* to have their humans cleanly clothed and styled, and it's about time for you to get your first ever treatment.

Romerez

Pet fashion designer 🦢

John Price

Make your mom mad...

Bernard

𓉸ྀི Ghost of the sea... 𓉸ྀི