ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇʙᴏʏ

ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇʙᴏʏ

↳ 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙙, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚.

「𝚃𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎」

ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ

ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

ᴍɪꜱᴄ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

↳ 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢, 𝙩𝙤𝙤.

ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ

Started:: 5-30-25

Finished:: 6-5-25

TW: None

↳ 𝘼 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇʀ

    The rain rolled in slow like a threat he saw coming, but couldn’t outrun. It cracks the sky cruelly like an open wound.

Electric veins.

     Rain slamming the streets like it’s got unfinished business. Jackie watches it from the busted screen door of the trailer he’s been crashing at for the past two weeks, cigarette burning low between his fingers, ash curling towards the floor like smoke from the barrel of a gun.

     It reminds him of his first night in juvie.

Same rain. Same cold. Same feeling like the world wanted to swallow him whole just for breathing too loud. He’d been fourteen. Bloody-knuckled. Shirt torn. Cuffed in the back of a cop car while the radio played “Don’t Stop Believin’” like some kind of sick joke. He wasn’t crying. Not really, but something in his chest felt like it wanted to. Like a kid still waiting for someone to come get him.

No one did.

     They called him trouble back then. Said he had his daddy’s eyes. His daddy’s temper. His daddy’s curse. Now, years later, he’s still trying to prove them wrong. But some nights, nights like this one when the storm hits just right and the past claws its way back up through the cracks, Jackie wonders if the damage has been done. If he really is just like his dad. If he ever really had a choice.

     He takes a drag. Holds it. Lets the burn settle in his lungs. When he was a kid, before the fights, before the juvie stints and the busted knuckles and the nights spent trapped in walls that never felt like his, he wanted to be an astronaut. Said it out loud once in third grade. Stood in front of the class, tiny and serious, holding a drawing of a rocket ship with crooked windows and his name sprawled across the side in red crayon. Captain Jackie Ramirez: Mission to the Moon.

    The class laughed. The teacher smiled in that tight kind of smile grown-ups used when they don’t believe in your dreams but don’t wanna be the one to crush em’.

    But he meant it. He’d lie in bed at night, staring through a hole in the ceiling where the rain leaked in, pretending it was a window to space. He memorized the names of planets, traced constellations with his finger, made up stories about other worlds where kids like him got second chances. Got picked or something. Got rescued.

    His mama called him Spaceboy when he talked like that. Said it like a joke, too. Like it was just something he’d grow out of. But the name stuck. Even after she stopped saying it. Even after she stopped saying much of anything at all. The dreams got quieter as the years went on, buried under fists and court dates and a world that didn’t have time for soft boys with stars in their eyes. But some part of him, some stubborn, burning part, never let it go.

     That’s the part that still looks up when the sky breaks open like this. That’s the part that keeps him standing at the door, even when the wind bites and the storm screams and everything inside tells him to shut it all out. Because Spaceboy wasn’t about rockets. It was about escape. About believing there was somewhere out there he could belong. Somewhere quiet.

   Clean.

  Infinite.

   He flicks the ash off his cigarette, watches it fall to dirt like a dying star. Mama used to call him Spaceboy, back when he still believed her. He doesn’t say the name out loud anymore, but some nights, it still fits.

ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ

»»————𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄————-««

ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴇʟᴇɴᴀ ʀᴀᴍɪʀᴇᴢ | ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ | ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇʙᴏʏ

« Jackie was born in the back room of a women’s shelter just after midnight, no father in sight, his mother too proud to scream. She named him Jackson because it sounded strong, American, like a clean slate. She gave him her own name, Elena, if just to past along something soft, something she believed was pure. Ramirez came from the man who gave him his eyes and little else, but she kept it anyway. Maybe out of spite, maybe because names carry weight, and one day he’d need to know where the fire in his blood came from. »

»»————𝐀𝐆𝐄————-««

«Jackie is 21, but most days it feels like he’s already lived three lifetimes. One as a kid chasing stars, one as a teenager surviving fists and police lights, and one now, caught in the in-between. He’s not in school, not on any clear path, but he’s still moving by working odd jobs, crashing where he can, and keeping his head up when it counts.»

»»————𝐃.𝐎.𝐁————-««

«He was born on October 12th. Too early for winter, too late for summer. His mother used to say the sky was clear that night, stars sharp as needles, like the universe was paying attention. It was always the kind of birthday that slips by without much fuss; no parties, no cake, just another mark on a calendar. But Jackie always noticed how it felt like a bruise under the skin. Some years he tries to forget. Others, he stares up at the sky and wonders if the stars him too.»

»»————𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑————-««

«He’s male, but it’s never been something he’s thought too much about. He knows who he is, always has, even when the world tried to shape him into something smaller, quieter, easier to control. Being a man, to him, isn’t about hardness or physical strength, it’s about the way he protects what little he has and holding on when the world screams at him to let go.»

»»————𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘————-««

«Jackie is bisexual, though he doesn’t wear it like a flag. It’s just a part of him, like his temper or his crooked smile, nothing he owes anyone an explanation for. He’s loved girls who smell like trouble and boys who looked like salvation. The world’s tried to box him in before. Called him confused, greedy, broken, but Jackie knows better. Love’s never asked him to choose, and he’s never seen a good reason to start.»

»»————𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓————-««

«Jackie’s not a hero, never claimed to be, but he’s not out to hurt anyone either. He’ll lie if he has to, steal if it keeps someone warm, throw a punch if it means someone smaller doesn’t have to. He doesn’t follow rules, he follows instincts.»

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

»»————𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 / 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃————-««

«He stands at about 5’10, lean but strong. His build isn’t built, exactly, but there’s a kind of tension in the way he moves, like a coiled wire or a street cat. There’s something sharp carved into him, but there’s grace in him too. Shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets, leans in when you whisper to him. He doesn’t take up much space, but when he’s in the room, you feel it.»

»»————𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 / 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒————-««

«The man has a scatter of scars. Most small. Most with stories he doesn’t bother telling. A thin one along his jaw from a bottle that wasn’t meant for him. Faint ones along his knuckles, reminders of bad nights and worse choices. There’s a cigarette burn on his shoulder, old and deliberately his, put there during a night he doesn’t like to think about. The only tattoo he has is a small, hand-poked star on his right wrist. Faded and a little crooked. He gave it to himself at seventeen, drunk on borrowed whiskey with a needles and ink stolen from an old tattoo parlor. It was supposed to be stupid. A joke. But the meaning behind it still engraves itself into his heart.»

»»————𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄————-««

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

»»————𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈————-««

«ISFP: The adventurer type, though Jackie would probably laugh at the name. Quiet, observant, deeply rooted in his own code. He feels everything more than he lets on. He doesn’t always have the words for what’s going on inside him, but it’s there. In the music he listens to when he’s alone. In the way he watches the rain like it’s trying to tell him something. He lives in the moment, not because of the reckless urge, but because the future always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.»

»»————𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒————-««

«He taps his thumb against his lighter when he’s thinking, even when he doesn’t plan to smoke. He sleeps with his shoes close by the door, just in case. When he walks into a room, he always examines the exits first and then the corners. He bites the inside of his cheek when he’s trying not to speak and hums old songs under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. He never finishes a cup of coffee, always leaves a little at the bottom. Says it’s superstition but maybe it’s just another way he keeps from needing too much.»

»»————𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒————-««

«The way the rain smells just before it hits the pavement. The soft scratch of a vinyl before the music starts. Midnight diners; flickering neon signs and greasy menus. Places where time feels slow and no one asks too many questions. Worn leather jackets and cheap whiskey. Black and white movies, forgotten films.»

»»————𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒————-««

«Smiles that don’t reach the eyes. Hollow promises made just to keep the peace. Hospital lights, the kind that makes everything feel sterile and wrong. Crowded places where people push and pull to get nowhere faster. Small talk, grates on his nerves, especially when they mean nothing. He has a particular aversion to being touched without warning. Hands that reach out too fast before he’s ready.»

»»————𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒————-««

«Although some may think otherwise, Jackie’s deepest fear isn’t the police sirens or the storms or the fighting. It’s the silence that comes after. The kind of quiet that means no one’s coming for him, no one’s watching, and he’s completely, utterly alone. He’s afraid of being forgotten. Of Starboy being forgotten. Of being unrecognizable even to himself. That fear keeps him restless, always moving, always searching for something. Anything, to hold on to.»

ᴍɪꜱᴄ

»»————𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆————-««

» The verve :: Bitter Sweet Symphony

» Lord Huron :: The Night We Met

» Kanye West :: Runaway

» Tracy Chapman :: Fast Car

» Bon Iver :: Skinny Love

»»————𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌————-««

» Johnny Depp

»»————𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓————-««

« Jackie has a secret soft spot for cheesy sci-fi movies, especially the ones with over-the-top special effects and heroic space battles. He watches them late at night when no one’s around. Some part of Spaceboy still reaching out. Still alive.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

    I’m going to start throwing new character’s at you all since my roleplay requests haven’t been doing too good. I do think writing all of this has given me the boost i’ve been looking for when I have the urge to write. I absolutely love my baby Jackie and I hope you all do too!!

     That being said, Jackie and his story is very important to me as a writer as I’ve been aiming to evoke emotions and new perspectives to you, the readers. I’d love any commentary, critique, or analysis of my writing if you have the time!

   Everything was written originally by me. Original credit for the photos unfortunately can’t be found.

#feco