B E N J A M I N

[benxgoldmanx]

bloodstainxd‌:

The dinner rush had come and gone and The Grill was in it’s quiet, late night lull. Apart from Zale and his skeleton crew of bored cooks, there was hardly a soul in the joint. Just one or two of the regular drunkards, who were so consistent in their patronage, they might as well have been part of the decor. Really, Zale had nothing better to do than stand at the bar, busying himself cutting up limes for the next shift to use during happy hour.

He hardly even glanced up when the door opened and a dark haired man walked in. Young, attractive, dressed decently. Really, the customer could’ve been the standard fair for the town, if only he’d been sporting fangs or drenched in the blood of a virgin.

“Evening,” he responded, nodding to the young man. With a sigh, he dropped his knife on the cutting board, letting his dark eyes settle in on the customer. The least he could do was give the person his full attention while they were in front of him.

“Well, the horse tastes like shit, so I wouldn’t reccomend that,” Zale told him, only half joking. The Grill didn’t serve horse. Though, in general, it did taste like shit - he’d known, he’d tried it more than once. “I’d say get a full rack of ribs ribs. They’re solid, and they come with mac n’ cheese and cornbread on the side. Cornbread is fresh, too. The guys made it this morning.”

Ben managed a genuine smile at the horse quip, largely because he had been let off the hook. He gave a light, appreciate laugh before glancing back to the menu. And nodding, he lifted his gaze up once more. That sounded like a lot of food, but he had that peculiar metabolism where he could eat anything and forever stay 5′6″ and rail-thin. A blessing and a curse. But he was on vacation. So screw it.  “Uh, that sounds great. Let’s do that. But hold the mac n’ cheese if that’s all right.” In truth, he always had a way of apologizing for himself, of asking for things but it being cool, no problem if he were not allowed them. It’s mac ‘n’ cheese, man. You’re not rejecting someone’s kidney. “I keep kosher,” he added as an afterthought, offering an explanation no one asked for. “So I could’t eat the horse even if I wanted to.” But he hadn’t always kept kosher; he did it when he felt like it. And coming into a restaurant like this was probably an odd time to start feeling like it. Besides, cornbread totally had butter or buttermilk or something. Well, he tried. “Is there actually horse?”

He hummed, ducking a bit. “You can’t get fresh cornbread in Jersey.” Maybe you could; he didn’t know. “That’s...uh, cool. I feel like most things are boxed or frozen.” He smiled again, going into his bag and retrieving his camera,setting it on the bar-top and taking the opportunity to start clicking through some of the photos he had taken that day. “It’s a pretty little town, here. I’m from a little town too, but I don’t know, it’s different. I’ve never been to Vermont.” 

[benxgoldmanx]

Location: The Grill | Closed for @bloodstainxd

Hardnosed? Hardboiled? Ben’s day of fledgling detective work had mostly just been hard, and the fruitlessness of the entire endeavor had left him feeling rather sorry for himself. But then again, he was not sure what he had expected. After all, all he had to go on was a first name, one ridiculous enough to be fake, and all prior web searches had yielded no results. So why had he come to this place? What fantasies or feelings had brought him here? “I am Ernest Shackleton,” he thought. “And this is my great frozen wasteland having to be explored.”

Or maybe Vermont was just cold. He slunk into the building tugging on his jacket for warmth, allowing his internal tragedies to find life in the way his fingers played with the fabric, and with an almost melodramatic sigh, Ben took a seat at the bar (mostly because sitting in booths alone was never a great look). “Evening! What’s...um...good?” he asked upon being noticed, flipping around a menu as if he absolutely had to place an order right that second. “I could eat a horse.” People didn’t really say things like that, did they? “But I can’t eat pork,” he grimaced a bit at that, trying to make some kind off-color joke. It didn’t land.

[stydixa]

[jamesvaldez]

[benxgoldmanx]

fateomens‌:

this   town’s   rich   history   made   for   interesting   finds   ,   artistically   speaking   .   and   hence   ,   ursula   was   burdened   /   gifted   with   a   job   to   find   a   certain   piece   of   artifact   lost   to   modern   day   books   .   she’d   hoped   that   town   records   would   offer   some   insight   ,   a   clue   so   her   client   could   stop   pestering   her   about   time   !   (   a   notion   she   no   longer   felt   burdened   with   )   .   flagged   down   ,   ursula   put   on   a   smile   ,   pearl   whites   exposed   ,   nonchalant   .   ‘   these   ?   ’   spoken   ,   lifting   a   ledger   ,   one   of   many   she’d   convinced   the   librarian   to   part   with   .   ‘   or   are   you   looking   for   the   digitalized   versions   ?   ’

Ben faltered, gaze shifting from the stranger’s face, to the ledger in her grasp, back to her mouth, where it lingered for perhaps a moment longer. Was there something...? He allowed the thought to fall away before it sprung, and he matched her smile with one of his own. “Uh...I don’t know, actually. Maybe I ought to start with digitized?” He bit gently on his lower lip. “Those look like maybe I’d need to know where to start. And we’re sort of...casting wide nets right now.” He nodded appreciatively, but in that moment, he considered he would perhaps need library card access to get onto any sort of machine. “I appreciate the help. I’m sort of a tourist, I guess.” 

[benxgoldmanx]

Location: The Watermount Library & Municipal Offices

“Hey, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anyone at the desk. Do you know where I might find, like...town records?” Ben did not quite know what he was looking for, and in truth, the ancient library building was having an overwhelming effect on him from the moment he entered it. He had been wandering its halls for only a few moments when he tried to flag down a passerby, hoping they perhaps worked there or could at least point him in the right direction. But again, he did not quite know what he was looking for. Microforms? Did people still use microforms? They totally did. 

[benxgoldmanx]

parvcosmic‌:

     𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕞 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 was that it was a completely bullshit holiday. the same with valentine’s day, halloween, even christmas. thanksgiving he enjoyed, if only for the excuse to watch football & drink copious amounts of beer. but all other holidays ? they were a hallmark scam. that card company ruled this world, whether people cared to actually open their eyes & see it or not.       ❛❛ move ! ❜❜ those goddamn cats. every single day, without fail, they would be perched on the hood of his car. it was bad enough that it seemed to perpetually be covered in bird shit, but the fact that it had to have those furry freaks on it seemed to make it even worse. his regular orange fiend, somewhat affectionately nicknamed triple sec, simply passed his eyes over him, stretched & proceeded to go back to lazing about with no bother. ❛❛ move or i’ll scream. ❜❜ there was simply no reasoning with those furry fuckers.       ❛❛ you asked for this—- ❜❜ a final warning, a three second staring contest, & then he was a twenty-five-year-old high school teacher who was screaming at three cats, all of whom disappeared instantly. ❛❛ what ? you never seen a grown man scream at some cats before ? ❜❜

“Um...uh, no, I have actually.” And that was true enough; he had gone to school in New York City. And to that end, Benjamin had seen his fair share of folks doing odd things out on the street. Of course, he typically tried not to engage with them, but maybe Vermont cat shouters were kinder. He had not meant to stare. But he had been. And in truth, it largely stemmed from the camera dangling at his hip. When he was wandering, like this, he tried to have an eye out, to spot things to capture before they happened. He had not gotten the cats scattering, though, having been too taken aback by Zachary’s outburst. He allowed the device to dangle, hands up as if to prove he had not used it. “I hear they make a spray, you know...for that,” Ben finally offered up after a beat, as if it were helpful. That was a dumb remark. 

[benxgoldmanx]

svcrifical‌:

               FRAME  LEANING  LAZILY  against  the  counter  top  behind  him  ,  phone  in  hand  practically  glued  to  the  kid’s  face  with  how  attached  to  it  he  seemed  to  be  .   the  hoodie  slouching  baggy  and  oversized  on  his  lanky  frame  had  his  name  tag  attached  to  it  as  if  it  was  an  acceptable  alternative  to  his  uniform  ,  which  it  wasn’t  ,  he  knew  that  ,   but  vermont’s  weather  never  warmed  until  july  at  the  very  earliest  and  his  boss  still  refused  to  fix  that  damn  heat  .   there  were  paint  stains  on  his  fingertips  ,  barely  masked  by  his  sleeves  that  were  pulled  over  his  hands  like  makeshift  gloves  and  were  easily  noticeable  if  you  took  the  time  to  note  his  scrolling  on  his  iphone  .   

            ‘   it’s  a  shame  about  those  people  who  were  killed  .   ‘   he  says  softly  ,  noticing  the  patron  take  a  seat  at  a  bar  stool  adjacent  from  him  .   he  adjusts  the  hood  of  his  sweatshirt  promptly  when  he  feels  eyes  gazing  at  the  scars  on  his  neck  ,  reminders  of  vampires’  past  .   ‘   you  don’t  think  there’s  any  reason  to  be  worried  ,  do  you  ?   probably  a  one  and  done  deal  right  ?   coffee  ?   ‘   the  kid  blabbers  on  ,  reaching  for  the  lukewarm  coffee  pot  as  he  readies  his  notepad  .

Did...did the waiter kill someone? Clearing his throat, Ben balanced himself precariously on the stool, managing a tight, terse smile. A chill rolled through him, but whether it was from the cold or foreboding was anyone’s guess. “I...uh, I don’t know. I only just got into town; I’m not really from around here,” he managed in reply, glancing over his shoulder as if debating having to move for the door. He glanced back and offered a nod. But things like that happened all the time. How many murders were there a day in New York? Enough for people not to notice them, he decided. “Did...uh, did something happen?” he asked, but rather immediately, he decided it was a dumb question. And in truth, with the hoodie, and the shiftiness, and all,  he was not entirely sure this was not some kind of odd routine meant to make outsiders nervous. He was from a small town, a tourist town sure, but he knew how they worked. And had a taste for the whole shoobie thing. 

“Coffee would be great,” he added softly, taking the opportunity to pretend to be lost in his own phone. He flicked through a few screens before glancing upward. “I was...um, trying to find my way to the library, but the layout around here kind of throws me off. Could you maybe point me there?”

[benxgoldmanx]

holyambition‌:

rosemary’s “ customer service ” smile , as she liked to call it , was painted on her face as she stood in the small flower shop , as she worked on tying the ribbon along the stems of the flowers the blonde got lost in her own little world , not even hearing the bell ding that signifies a customer walking in . it wasn’t long , though , as she left the person unattended to ; gotta love pricking your finger , right ? as she winced , her eyes fell on the person which took her by surprise . “ uh , hi ! how can I help you ? ” she beams , wiping her hands on her apron .

You’re so lame. Why are you always so lame? Benjamin’s presence in the shop had been preceded by a dramatic internal monologue, during which he had successfully convinced himself to step inside it. Perhaps this whole thought process was premature, but that had certainly never stopped him before. And foresight was never his thing, per say. And so, here he was. He scanned the shelves, eyes landing on the owner of a voice that had spoken up. He offered a small, polite smile. “I’m...uh, do you happen to sell, like, lapel flowers?” So that I can write my long-lost dad a note about how I’m going to be in this shop at this time wearing this flower in my jacket? The worst. Ugh. It felt a little soap opera, Ben decided in that moment, but, well, he was nothing if not committed. And strangers didn’t need to know every act of the tragedy unfolding. “I was just...shopping around.” 

[benxgoldmanx]

𝚒'𝚍  𝚋𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚢  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  ,  𝚖𝚢  𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍  ;   that  there  is  BENJAMIN GOLDMAN  ,  notorious  for  being  (  absent-minded  )  and  (  high-strung  ) , but  there  are  times  when he  can  be  (  scrappy  )  and  (  genuine  )  .   i’ve heard  that  he  could  pass  as  a  JAKE BORELLI  doppelganger  ,  but  i  don’t see  it  .   the  (  twenty-nine  )  year - old  cis male  ( witch  )  has  been  in  town for  (  four days  )  and  they  are  a  (  freelance photographer  ) affiliated  with  (  no one  )  .   they  tend  to  spark  images  of  action figures fading on dark wood shelves, so well-worn that their painted faces are chipping away to blank masks behind ,  empty plastic cups from convenience store icees  ,  and round glasses with fingerprints that won’t wipe away  .

Hello, all, I’m Max, and this vaporwave disaster witch is Ben. I look forward to writing with you all! I’m a bit terrible at Discord, but will try my best to be actively present both there and here. Feel free to reach out to me anytime, and I’d love to come up with something together. Below the cut is a Sparknotes version, but a full bio is also here. 

I. Basics

Name: Benjamin Goldman 

Nicknames: Ben, Benny

Age: Twenty-nine

Gender: Cis Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Witch

Nationality: American

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic 

Education: BFA in Photography from The New School

Occupation: Freelance Photographer

Affiliation: No One

II. Stats

Positive Traits: Scrappy, Genuine, Determined

Negative Traits: Absent-minded, High-strung, Idiosyncratic 

Height: 5′6″ 

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown

Zodiac: Capricorn

Religion: Jewish

MBTI: INFP-T

Aligment: Lawful Neutral

III. Background

Benjamin was raised by adoptive parents in a seaside tourist town. His biological mother was a human, who placed the boy up for adoption shortly after his birth. Ben’s father, unbeknownst to anyone, was a witch, and Benjamin inherited his magical bloodline. Those capabilities lay dormant within him for much of his life since he had no reason to believe in them. 

He was a quiet, easily picked on child, often lost in fantasy: cartoons, comic books, and video games, particularly in the local arcades. Still, his upbringing was a good one with loving parents, despite the nagging feeling of a missing piece.

As a teenager, Ben started working at a boardwalk photo booth, taking ‘western’ and ‘gangster’ snapshots of a families on vacation. Earning his affinity for the camera, he eventually attended university in New York City and earned a degree in photography.

While he began by trying unsuccessfully to break into the art scene, he made his money on weddings before shifting to stock photography for advertisements and the like, which is where he retains consistent work today.

That said, he continues to hone his creative aspirations by night. His photographs are sad, lonely things, people sitting alone against artificial lights, perhaps revealing an internal discontent brewing within the artist.

He started the process, with his parents’ approval, of tracking down his biological family and was able to successfully reconnect with his birth mother. The two have started a tenuous budding relationship, and it was from her Ben was able to glean some information on his mysterious father.

That lead has brought him to Vermont, where he has just arrived with a first name and little else to go on. He’s pretending this whole thing is a vacation, but he may be getting more than he bargained for.

IV. Potential Plots

These are some vague, general, initial thoughts, but I am very open to brainstorming and more and having Ben help in your development of your own characters! Friends, enemies, frienemies are more are welcome. 

The Mentor : Benjamin is unaware of the supernatural world and of his own dormant capabilities as a witch. This person could potentially guide him into it and help unlock that potential, or could potentially serve as an ally in discovering where exactly he comes from.

The Wrong Crowd: A potentially more sinister version of The Mentor, this person may willingly or unwillingly introduce Benjamin to the darker side of the supernatural world. A naive young witch with untapped abilities begging for release could easily be swayed by the promise of feeling powerful. 

The Old Rivalry: Benjamin is a new face in town, but his father’s family finds its roots there. Perhaps there’s old local conflicts that he might find himself sucked into despite being unaware of them? Or perhaps he and someone else might bridge that conflict?