Curtis Corey Hopkins

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001. NAME• Curtis Corey Hopkins
002. NICKNAME• Curt, Corey
003. REAL AGE• 16
004. HOW OLD DO YOU LOOK• 16
005. BIRTHDATE• September, 1992
006. WHERE YOU LIVE?• London, England.
007. AND YOU FEAST ON?• Rarely anything, blood packets when possible.

001. YOUR FACE•Curtis Ward
002. HAIR• Naturally dark brown, straight, but often is died jet black.
003. EYES• A warm hazel, that displays the kindness of a little boy and a caring heart. Despite his personality, and the walls he puts up, his eyes contain an innocent and youthful glow.
004. HEIGHT• Approx. 6 feet.
005. WEIGHT• 120 Lbs
006. BODY MODS• Right and left nipple, and tongue (pierced twice), and ears guaged.
007. FASHION/STYLE• Somewhat metro sexual. His usual outfits consists of tightly fitted, straight legged jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and or jacket. He usually wears “Keds”/tennis shoes or 'high top' Converse sneakers.

001. LIKES• Illegal substances (mainly LSD, Ecstasy and Weed), alcohol, boys, boys and more boys, caffeine (Coffee, Energy drinks), clubbing, nicotine, texting,
002. DISLIKES• Working, having to pay bills, anxiety, depression, self loathing/himself, most females, talking about personal issues, eating disorders, sports, driving.
003. FEARS• Spiders, womens genitalia, being alone, being emotionally hurt, becoming overweight, verbal abuse,
004. STRENGTHS• Despite his feminine appearance he possesses a large amount of strength and speed. He can also be incredibly manipulative, lie well, cry almost on cue.
005. WEAKNESSES• Can be naive, can be easily tricked, can be easily seduced, can care TOO much, can be taken advantage of too easily.
006. ODDITIES• Likes giving oral a little too much, Is brilliant despite his lack of secondary education, Likes to play Pokemon on his DS quite frequently, makes a lot of money for being a janitor at a club, saves a lot of his money.
007. ORIENTATION• Very homosexual.
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• None.
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW•
Although Curtis acts as if he 'lives' for drugs, and sex, he is actually much more than that. His mind expands beyond 'blow jobs' and coloured pills. He is often depressed and finds himself mutilating his arms and thighs. He is afraid to give up the crazy life he lives, and he is afraid to find love, although he wants it more than anything else in the world. He is afraid that he will become bored if he emotionally attaches himself to one person. It also doesn't help that from “fooling” around with Christian he has become more emotionally vulnerable. He is often treated like an object, and it is the sad truth that he doesn't know any other wise. He has never been a 'real' relation ship. Fuck buddy after fuck buddy after fuck buddy. Everyone usually always treats him the same. He serves his purpose as being a cheap thrill and then he is effortlessly throw to the side, just like a prostitute or a common whore. Curtis is kind hearted, but will not hesitate to manipulate someone to get what he wants. If he wants to fuck someones boyfriend, or simply 'take' him just because he knows he can, he will. He lives for the thrill of the 'chase' and once he has them, despite he is often used for pleasure purposes, he knows that because of his skilled sexual advances and actions his touches will not be soon forgotten. To him being known for anything other than being pathetic is a pleasant change.

001. PARENT ONE• Peter Corey Hopkins, a hard working, well paid lawyer. (Now Deceased)
002. PARENT TWO• Marie Rose Hopkins, a dedicated real estate agent. (Where abouts now unknown)
003. SIBLINGS• N/A
004. PETS• N/A
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Curtis grew up in Manchester, London with both his mother and father, Peter and Marie Hopkins (His father a lawyer and his mother a real-estate agent). Curtis proved to be a rather private boy, displaying this need for privacy throughout his years of schooling when he chose to isolate himself from the other children. Despite this apparent factor his parents continued to push him forward aggressively in everything he did despite the fact he was only a child. His mother would merely yell at him and tell him he was a “Hopkins” and he could do better.. Which was fine, because it did not seem to phase him. It was his father that was the worst. Curtis’ father not only told him “He could do better”, but he told him he “looked better” than all the other children and was by far the prettiest boy in all of Britain. His father told him Curtis’ beauty was the reason why he would occasionally touch him in unnatural ways. Curtis’ father explained to him that this was just his way of showing him just how special he was. The actions were slight at first, in his early years. Fondling, strokes, uncomfortable kisses.. All things which soon became normalities that Curtis tried his very best to accept as treatment because he was ‘special’ despite his gut feeling that it wasn’t right.

One day during his sixth year Curtis had come home from school to what he thought was an empty house. It had been raining that day and his jeans stuck to his small legs. His socks were dry but his oh so expensive rain boots were now tracking all sort of mud through the house as he proceeded upstairs his room to change. He creaked open the door slowly, figuring he would inquire to of where his parents might be after he changed into more comfortable clothes (as he always did once he arrive home from school). His father sat there on Curtis’s king size bed (a bed far too large for such a small boy). He was dressed as if he had just came home from work.
“Dad?..” Curtis whispered, afraid of what was to come. A scolding.. Or perhaps ‘special’ treatment?
“Come here Curtis.” His father spoke in a low throaty voice.
“I have to change from my school clothes.. My pants are all wet.”
“Let me help you with them..” He whispered, pulling his son near to him, removing his soaked jeans from his shivering body. “Now then, Your mother tells me you’ve been doing extraordinary in school. Even interacting with other boys and girls. Is this true?”
“Yes.. “
“I think you should get a reward.” He smiled. Curtis backed away somewhat.
“It’s okay dad.. Thank you anyway.” He attempted to refuse politely.
“Don’t be silly.” He force Curtis onto the large bed, hovering above him, Curtis’ small frame trapped beneath him. “This will be very special.” His father smiled, Taking off his tie, balling it up, placing it in Curtis’ mouth to serve as a gag.. He then yanked down Curtis’ tiny white briefs quickly, undoing his own pants with one hand. Curtis’ eyes widened as his father proceeded to lift his legs up slightly.
“This will hurt a lot.. But when it’s finished it’ll mean you’re the best, not just in your class. The best in the world. For once Curtis did not agree to this twisted logic.. He struggled. His father did not halt his actions. He only proceeded fourth with force this time. He kissed Curtis’ neck roughly, somewhat biting, causing him to wince. Curtis felt pressure against his lower region, his very lower region, causing him to squirm greatly.
“This will be very nice, once I’ve begun. Stop your foolishness. You want to be the best don’t you?” His father whispered, as he pushed fourth slightly. At this point Curtis looked around frantically, in desperate need of anything, something that could save him. He spotted a letter opener on the nightstand. He had always remembered his mother telling him not to touch the letter opener, for it was very sharp. Her words repeated over and over in his head. He grabbed the letter opener without second thought, thrusting it into his fathers neck with incredible force. His father groaned loudly, halting his actions as he began to blood. He rolled off of Curtis clutching his own throat, as he spat gurgled words. Curtis stared in horror as blood poured from his fathers wound. He yanked up his undergarments quickly, backing away into the corner of the bed as he watched his father writhe around, and flail. He watched his father reach for the phone, no doubt to call for medical assistance. He kicked the phone from the dresser, away from his father, staring into his eyes.
“Die.” Curtis whispered. “Just die.. Disappear forever. I hate you.”

He watched his fathers life drain from him slowly, listening to his last gurgled words, unable to understand them. He watched him take his final breath, knees to his chest as he sat on the bed silently. He felt as though he was paralyzed and could not turn away from the crimson spill before him. His gaze was broken as he heard footsteps slowly approach the bedroom. He did not move, he said nothing as he watched his mother swing open the door. She began to shriek and cry out.

“Curtis! Curtis! What has happened to your father!!” She cried out. Curtis said nothing, but looked away from her, long bangs covering his pale face. “You.. You did this. “ She hollered. “I want you out of my home. Out! I’m sending you away!” She ran from the room. Curtis remained still, unmoving. A matter of minutes later, she returned with a duffel bag full of his belongings. Just minutes after that, clichéd men dressed in white mounted the stairs.

“You’re going to have to come with us son..” The spoke softly. Curtis said nothing but stood, watching one of the men pick up his bag. He went with them willingly, briefly looking back, staring down at his father whom was laying in a pool of his own well deserved to be spilled blood. The men drove Curtis to a very large building. The large sign on the front lawn read , “Rochdale Psychiatric Ward”. Once inside Curtis was introduced to a nurse (Amelia Rosendale), a therapist (Emily Watson) and a medical physician (Rupert Watson. Curtis barely acknowledged any of them, yet they knew his name and many facts about him. They attempted to chat with him but it was of course was to no avail.

Curtis stayed in this miserable hospital for nearly a three years before he was free to go on conditions of parent consent. His mother had moved away, far from Britain and wanting nothing more to do with Curtis. After a few months of enabling to reach her, the therapist Curtis had grown very close with over the past year Emily Watson chose to take him into her own care. He trusted Emily and he agreed to live with her. She lived quite far from the hospital Curtis was used to calling home for quite a while. He enjoyed that she lived so far from it. He hated it there and thought it was a wretched place. He never wanted to return ever again.

From that point on he lived at home with Emily. She was so kind to him and allowed him to do whatever he chose. She grew to love Curtis very quickly. Once the summer had past and she felt as though Curtis was ready to attend school, she asked him where he would rather attend. Private school or public. He chose public.. He wanted to be normal more than anything. She allowed it. For the first time he was out of uniform. The outfit he chose to wear on his first day of his Ninth year and of public school consisted of, tight fitting black ‘skinny’ jeans, a grey T’shirt with a black sweater over it. As for footwear Emily had bought him a new pair of “Converse” shoes, assuming he would appreciate them (which he did, he chose to wear them that very day). She helped him out last minute by brushing his thin black hair for him, which was nearly down his shoulders. As the bell rang at 8:00 AM, and Curtis took a seat in his first class of the day, he glanced around. There was so much diversity, hair, clothes, ethnicity, everyone was so different looking. He had to admit it was a nice change.

“We have a new student today. Please stand Curtis.” The teacher smiled, teeth so white he swore they were porcelain and hair so blond he thought perhaps would fall out at any given moment. Curtis stood, rather embarrassed. “This is Curtis Hopkins. Please make him feel welcomed. He’s used to attending private schools. Show him public school children can be just as civilized!” Her voice was cheery, but that didn’t stop Curtis from feeling sick. He really wished with everything in him that she hadn’t said that last part. ” He’s used to attending private schools. Was she even allowed to say such a thing?
Each day of public school proved to be more and more interesting, yet uncomfortable. He felt out of place and ugly. So many other boys were very pretty, and would no doubt grow up to be very handsome. Curtis felt ashamed of his ‘love handles’ and chubby cheeks.

As the year progressed, by the end of it Curtis had gotten what seemed to be a ‘fantastic’ idea from a group of thin giggling girls. “You eat, and then you fro it up when you’re done.” A girl with a rather strong accent said. To Curtis this sounded like a good idea. He loved sweets far too much to give them up. At first it was hard, but by his tenth year it became easier and easier. He had a silly way about going about it too. He would place tin foil on his teeth, so it create a silver mold of his teeth. Then he would force himself to throw up after the foil was in place. The foil served as a thin barrier against the acid within his vomit, so as he did not damage his teeth. One thing he didn’t need was another imperfection. Curtis was sixteen now, 5’8 and one hundred and twenty five pounds. His goal was one hundred but it was proving hard to achieve.

One Saturday evening, whilst Emily was out, Curtis chose to go out to for probably the first time in his life. He chose to go to a bar called “The Lizard’s Tongue.” He was hoping the bartender would either a) believe he was of age to order alcohol and not kick him our or b) just not care whether he was of age or not. As he ordered his drink he soon discovered option b) was the one that seemed to be playing out before him. He ordered ‘vodka on the rocks’ but only because he had heard that term on television. After downing the rather large cup of alcohol he could not help but feel a warm feeling in his head and chest. Despite this distraction of liquor he noticed a woman had been staring at him as soon as he walked into the bar. Perhaps it was a friend of Emily’s? Perhaps a teacher, a relative of Emily’s? Perhaps he was too paranoid. He convinced himself of his own paranoid as he ordered another drink. After downing most of his second drink, before he could even realize who was sitting next to him he felt a pat on the shoulder. It was the woman that had been staring at him.

“You got a smoke?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Curtis looked over at her, admitting to his bad habit. One he had picked up only a mere two months ago.
“Thanks.” She said as he handed it to her. “Wanna come outside and smoke with me?” She questioned. Curtis nodded. One would think he would be cautious to trust strangers.. But Emily had made him trusting. Perhaps a bit too trusting. Once outside the woman lead Curtis to the back of the building. “I’m sorry about this kid.. I really am.” The woman whispered. Before Curtis knew it.. Everything went black. He awoke later in a daze, a strange taste in his mouth. He placed a few fingers to his lips, wiping away a warm substance. “Blood?..” He whispered to himself. It was blood. And for some reason the taste wasn’t bad. Curtis could barely remember anything.. But one thing he did know was that he shouldn’t go out anymore.

The following week Curtis returned to the bar.. But not for a good time.
“Can I work here?” He asked the bar keep.
“Kid, are you serious?”
“Come on, I’ll clean, or whatever!” Curtis wanted money. He felt awful about Emily always providing for him. He needed his own source of cash flow.
“Fine. You’re here by deemed the janitor. It gets pretty nasty here just as a warning. Fill out this application and bring in a resume tomorrow and you’ve got the job.” Curtis was ecstatic, and he did as the man asked. He was excited for his first job.. But a month in making his own money was not as glamorous as he thought it would be. He had cleaned so much vomit and God knows what else he was surprised he didn’t catch any diseases or sicknesses himself! One night as he was mopping the men’s room a rather tall, attractive, tattooed boy approached him, after doing heaven knows what in a stall.
“This is a pretty shitty job eh?”
“You’re telling me.” Curtis sighed.
“Cheer up. These‘ll help.” The boy tossed Curtis a small baggy and left without a word. Curtis opened the bag, pouring two pale pink pills into the palm of his hand. They had ‘guns’ engraved into them. Any self respecting person, anyone with a right mind would of tossed the pills but of course, Curtis being how he was decided maybe it would be cool to take one. He took one, swallowing whole without water. He continued to do his work for the next twenty minutes or so before it hit him. He had never felt anything like it.. And before he knew it he was asking sketchy people on street corners where he could get more little pink pills. Those same sketchy people were more than happy to tell him, and sell him some. It didn’t take long for Curtis to become addicted. He need the little pink pills, always, which he came to find out was ecstasy. He felt like a fool for taking it so often but he couldn’t help himself. The following year seemed to whiz by with the help of ecstasy. Everyday was a party. For that matter years in general seemed to whiz by and he wasn’t aging one bit. He was confused.. But too high to notice. It had been five years since he had blacked out behind “The Lizard’s Tongue.”.. That’s when it all started happening. Craving for blood, and no apparent aging. After another year passed Emily fell ill and died with a year. This left Curtis to fend for himself and find an apartment of his very own. He found one alright. A cheap one full of drug addicts. He thought he would fit in. Seven years passed and Curtis still remain “Sixteen”. He was scared, very scared. He chose to return to “The Lizard’s Tongue”.. for answers, hoping the woman would be there. One fateful Friday he was cleaning under tables, and he saw her. Sitting alone in a corner. He approached her, and she immediately attempted to flee. He grabbed her.
“What ‘ave you done to me. I’m a freak, I’m a freak, I’m a freak!” He yelled at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ruined this for you.. Ruined everything. I didn’t mean to.. I’m sorry. I’m a vampire and as you know.. Vampires can turn humans into vampires..”
“Are you kidding me.” Curtis stared in disbelief. “I’m a fucking vampire?! How is that even possible.”
“There’s no way I can go over that much history right now.. Just know that I’m sorry.. And I never meant for this to happen.”
“So you meant for me to die..”
“I did.. But I just couldn’t allow it. You were so young.. And innocent. I couldn’t allow it..”
“I see.” He relinquished his grip from the woman.
“Please.. I’m sorry.” She fled quickly, leaving Curtis there with a puzzled expression.

Time passed as Curtis found himself increasingly more and more lonely as each day , month, year, century passed. Later, during the time year of 2008 Curtis decided to visit the old bar, formerly known as “The Lizard’s Tongue”. He coincidently ran into the very same boy who had first given him ecstasy. He could hardly believe his own eyes. He hadn’t aged a bit.. Just like himself. He approached him, thanking him ever so kindly for “fucking up his life.” But eventually somehow they got to talking, the other boy mentioning he needed a place to stay. How inconvenient for Curtis that he needed a roommate. He could hardly believe his own words, but he offered the apartment to him. He soon found out the boy’s name was Oliver Christianson. He also soon found out many other things about him as they became close. Things such as the boy was a British experiment designed for war but instead preferred getting ‘fucked up’ on drugs and drunk. He found out things such as Oliver had schizophrenia and had two separate personalities and Christian [who he was speaking with lived with was the dominant personality]. He found out things such Christian had fought in the war on behalf of an organization known as ‘The Crimson Arches’. The list went on. He also found out something about himself, that he loved being with boys and he loved sex with boys. He loved everything about being gay. Another thing he found out about himself is that no matter how hard he tried, he could never deny Christian when he was drunk and wanted sex. He remembered their first time vividly as much as he hated to admit such a thing. Christian claimed he was straight but he had had far too many encounters with him to say he was straight. The two currently live together in a different apartment. It’s a slight upgrade from their former apartment, and on top of that it’s owned by a sixty five year old chain smoking vampire. The rent is cheap and drugs are always available.

Sup!, my name is Feleshia, and I've been the walking dead for 18 years, and I've been grave robbing for two years, I stumbled upon the lovely Crimson Kiss by means of Google and already adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• I'm really excited to start posting!
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•

Curtis stretched out, laying on his back, head hanging off of the side of the bed allowing all the blood to rush there as he heard two subtle knocks against the door. He remained still for about thirty seconds before swinging his long, lanky legs over the left side of the bed, muttering to himself. He was just coming down from ingesting quite a large amount of various pills and he wasn't sure exactly if he was in the mood for visitors. He was aware that his roommate had an appointment around this time, but of course he was late coming home as usual; which left entertaining the guests until he arrived up to Curtis. He hated meeting new people. Greeting wasn't exactly something he was quick to do willingly.

Curtis did not bother putting a shirt on to answer the door, for once not caring about his physically feminine appearance; i.e his nipple piercing and a navel piercing. He had to admit that he was very feminine and very homosexual at that; his piercings showed this quite a bit. He scratched unconsciously at his newest tattoo (a feather located near his hip) completely forgetting the list of tattoo 'do's' and 'don'ts' as he headed towards the door. He was most definitely not looking his best at this particular moment in time. His hair was greasy and he smelled of all types of booze. He had been high and a little drunk for about three days straight now and the aftermath was torturing him. He felt like complete and utter shit.

He swung open the door slowly, starting at the young person before him, assuming of course it was indeed as he presumed; his roommates appointment. He was hoping that perhaps this person would serve to amuse him in his current pessimistic state, if not only for a few short moments until they left. He blinked very slowly, pausing, not saying anything for a good twenty seconds. He clicked his tongue ring against his teeth slightly as he stared the visitor up and down, inspecting.

"Hey. Are you here to see Christian?" He asked,leaning against the door way, tight 'skinny' jeans half sagged down off his backside, exposing sharp hip bones and the waist band of tight boys briefs.
"Er, yea I am," The boy said rather slowly. "If 'e isn't 'ere, I can just come back lata.." he continued nervously, looking around awkwardly. Curtis noticed the boys large clothes, and small stature. He immediately thought "Heh, cute kid." as he stared, inspecting, sensing awkwardness and anxiousness. Curtis could barely keep his eyes open but he was somewhat forced to at the same time. His head was pounding so hard he couldn't even dream of trying to sleep. But that thought aside, he continued to stare at the boy, noticing that he was staring back at him, and staring at him up and down at that. He was wondering why because he personally did not find himself to be too attractive. Often people informed him that he was naturally sexy in an odd, and non conventional way.

"Er, yea I am," He began, his voice sounding quite shaky and very unconfident. "If 'e isn't 'ere, I can just come back lata.." The shy boy fiddled with his sleeve as he took drags\ puffs from his cigarette.

"No, no.. come in 'ere and wait for him." Curtis licked his lips slowly as the smell of nicotine from the young person's cigarette tickled his nostrils. "Oh but first.. can I have a drag?" He somewhat smiled at the awkward boy. He debated whether or not to ask him too many questions about himself due to his obvious discomfort. He figured in order to keep him there to amuse him he had to take it slow, and attempt not to make him nervous, although the fact that he was not wearing a shirt probably already too care of the 'nervous' factor. Curtis wondered what his this boys first impression of him was. Immediately he could not help but think of "disgusting". He really wished another word would pop into his head then negative synonyms, meaning close to if not exactly the same thing\ word.

He sighed to himself as he awaited Marc's response to his simple question, again thinking perhaps he had made a mistake asking for a puff of his cigarette. A lot of people hate sharing such personal things with other people, let alone someone they had just me. Two awkward moves; but oh well. There was no turning back now.. All Curtis could do was wait and see. He himself was starting to feel quite anxious. He wasn't quite sure why. Was it a side-effect of the 'coming down' or was it just him looking forward to company.. company he so rarely got that he didn't 'have fun with'.

"Sure, I like to share!" The boy before him said happily . He stepped through the door, glancing around. "Lil dark in 'ere isn't it?" he asked. Stepping a few more steps forwards, he found himself bumping into a couch and plopping right on down.

Curtis slipped his long fingers though his thin black hair, pushing bangs from his face, as the boy responded to his former question by saying "Sure, I like to share!" Curtis raised an eye brow at the boys cheerful tone, as he watched him walk past him into the dark home they were formerly standing in front of. He heard a bump, assuming it was the cute young boy banging into furniture. Judging by the squeak of the cushions that followed, Curtis definitely knew the boy had somehow winded up toppling over onto his tacky yet surprisingly comfortable sofa. "Lil dark in 'ere isn't it?" The boy asked.

"A little. Sorry mate. I'm comin down.. if yew know what I mean and I really can't stand the florescent lighting in this place. Curtis rubbed at his temples, as he avoided the light switch, staying true to his words of negativity directed at the bright lights. He instead flicked on a dimly lit lamp. Odd to turn on a lamp at five.. but it did get dark quite early these days. He drummed his long fingers against the door frame, before slowly shutting it behind him.

"So.. if you don't mind me askin' what are ya plannin on gettin' done? Ya know for a tattoo?" There he was asking far too many questions again.. He couldn't help but be a curious boy. It hasn't killed him yet, so he figured it was working out okay for him. He carefully and slowly found his way next to the boy on the couch..not too close.. but not too far. The home was cold, no heat. Curtis was completely un aware of the embarrassing factor that his nipples were quite erect, had he been aware he probably wouldn't of cared anyway so there really was no point in the end. He stared at the boy, blinking slowly, biting his lower lip.

"I wonder.."

"'Ere it is!" he said, handing the piece of paper over. "Chris 'as already got a copy of it, but I thought I'd bring it just in case, y'know," he said, pointing at the picture. "I want it on my back! Oh by the way, m'names S-Sonny,"