User Profile

THIS IS AN RP JOURNAL!!!

Application
Out of Character Information
Name: Cha
LiveJournal: chachirinoda
E-mail Address: chachirinoda @ gmail
Messengers(AIM is preferred): AIM -- chachirinoda

In Character Information
Name: Jackal Kuwahara
Age: 23
Appearance: Half-Brazilian, Half-Japanese. Shaved head. (Looks much like he does in canon).
History:
Explored the world with his father, who traveled to broaden his horizons. At the age of seven, his father, himself and the company they were traveling with got captured by a tribe in Africa, who'd been forced into canniblism due to famine. Jackal wasn't eaten, because they were given him time to fatten up, and then proved himself a capable hunter when a hungry leopard dragged off a child and Jackal joined the rescue instead of attempting an escape, thus earning a place in the tribe and avoiding his father's fate.

Many years later, Jackal was "rescued" by members of his family when industry moved in and occupied his tribe's territory. His family quickly discovered that Jackal was unable to curb his desire to eat human flesh, having acquired a taste for it. They institutionalized him at the age of seventeen when caught gnawing on his own hand, and he's been there ever since.

If Applying for a Patient:
PLEASE DELETE THIS IF APPLYING FOR FACULTY
Afflictions: Cannibalism, possible Schizophrenia
Civil or Informal admission?: Self-admitted
Please provide detailed resources on your character’s mental state, including information about illnesses, addictions, and/or past experiences:
Jackal actively fights his cannibalistic urges, but often finds himself unable to resist licking at blood and cuts on himself and others to satiate it. Jackal's cannibalistic needs may stem from the need for acceptance among the tribe, where he had to eat human flesh to survive and eventually be accepted, thus forming a psychological dependence and addiction to eat human flesh. His tribe performed it out of necessity and conducted rituals surrounding the act, to beg forgiveness, instilling in Jackal the need to repent, even though he desires to commit the act again. While his tribe often cooked the flesh before consuming it, Jackal finds his desires extend even to raw consumption. Upon examination, Jackal's doctor believes he developed a form of behavioral schizophrenia from the experience, as Jackal admits to feeling a heightened sense of self and euphoria, as well as hallucinations when committing the act, and even had black-outs on occasion. Jackal gets minor forms of these symptoms when he consumes blood, and even small amounts can send him into euphoria.

There is a cutter in one of the nearby rooms that Jackal visits to get "fixes" on days where the urge gets strong, or he did until she got aroused off it and he nearly bit off her tongue.

After six years of being in the institution, Jackal is no longer required to wear his muzzle and can often feel the bad days coming far enough in advance to request confinement before it sets in. The smell of blood can still arouse his hunger however.

The below article includes the above diagnosis and facts as possible reasoning behind criminal cannibalism, but also includes the idea that there are many possible reasons. I chose schizophrenia, because I liked it better than latent aggression toward his mother and sexual deviance:
http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/criminal_mind/psychology/cannibalism/8.html


Sample Post: This may be either a journal post or a prose tag, but must be at minimum 100 words.

I stared up at the ceiling as the doctor stitched my hand back together. Nurses moved in and out of the little alcove, taking things, bring them in. One paused next to the doctor, glanced down. “Oh my, something really got a hold of you!”

I nodded, but the doctor said nothing, acting as if he was focused on the task at hand. He could read the marks. He knew it for what is was, Jackal could see it in the paleness of his face, just like he could hear it in the way his aunt tapped his foot. She knew too, there was no way she couldn’t after finding him, he hand in his mouth and the blood on his face.

The nurse prattled on, “Lucky there doesn’t look like there will be much muscle damage though. Try not to play with strays anymore, yeah? You’re old enough to know better.”

I nodded again. The doctor was still silent, and remained as such until the nurse had flitted away and there was a brief moment where they were alone.

The doctor looked him in the eye. “You seem reasonable now, but I’m calling it in. There’s a place to send you, so you don’t do this to yourself. You’ll be good and go, or I’ll have the police take you.”

And I nodded again. The hunger, the desire, the need . . . it had all faded now. He’d gotten his fix, finally, but he knew he couldn’t keep getting it this way. There was only so much flesh he could tear from his own body and he was more muscle than fat, and it was the fat that did it for him really. . . .

I shuddered. The only thing I can really remember after it’s gone is the satisfaction and the taste of it, clinging in the back of my mouth. I could still taste it. I had been lucky not to lose the thumb, let alone use it. His carelessness had nearly cost him. He couldn’t afford that. He needed his hands.

He needed to hold the urge at bay until he could let it run free again. Until he could go back to that tribe in Africa and rebuild it and live like he had been. The only way to hold the urge back was to honestly fight it. He’d go to this place. Maybe the urge would be banished there.

And if not, it would be bolted down until it could run free again.

Friends (59):

Friend of (50):