Post by snarky on Nov 13, 2008 21:17:40 GMT -5
.out of character
Your Name:Aisha.[That name is the antichrist…Just call me snarky]
How Long Have You Been RPing?:6-7 years.
.in character
.basic info
Name:Klinton Acker
Nickname:Klint
Age: Barely 16
Birthday: February 23rd
Year:3rd
Nationality:White/Mexican
Orientation: Bi
Religion:Atheist
[/size]
.appearance
Hair Color:Black
Eye Color:Grey
Height:5’7
Weight: 116 lbs
Clothes Style: He hates the school uniforms, but wears it begrudgingly, not wanting to be sent home. When he’s allowed to wear what he wants, he likes the tighter kind of clothes that show off his body. Belts are a must, in his opinion and he normally just wears whatever shirt he grabs first.
Basic Appearance: Straight hair that he hates to cut but loves to color. His hair is fizzled and dead from coloring, probably more than a hundred times. Many have told him his hair is gonna fall out, and his response has always been “It’ll grow back”
He tries to tease it everyday, but sometimes he's too tired or he just doesn't feel like it. When that happens, he's still just as confident walking around.
His face is evenly proportion, nothing to notice really, except his scarred lips from his habit of splitting it open. He’s always hated his face though, and ever since he was young got in the habit of using his hair as a curtain to cover it. His body is lean, some might even say skinny, and he loves to wear tight clothes. He’s a very self conscious person, and is nervous about changing in front of others. Not because of the tattoo on his hip, which is of half a heart, but because of the scars that decorate his chest and back from a knife fight he had gotten in when he was drunk with his friends.
.attitude
Talents: He never gets praise that often, and so he decided himself that he was a good artist, though he draws more abstract art which many people don’t appreciate.
Likes:
Cats
Smoking [drugs in general]
Alcohol
Change
The cold
Men
Women
Music, basically everything besides country
Friends
Art
Sensual pain[He’s somewhat of a masochist]
Anarchy/Chaos [though he can’t really do that here]
Light shows
Rough sex
Biting
Scratches
Blindfolds
Dislikes:
Liars
Cheaters
Homophobics
Uniforms
Closed spaces[He’s rather claustrophobic]
Assholes
Losing
Dogs
Arrogant People
Nosy people
Clingy people
Sheeple
The dark
Fears: As a result of being locked in a closet for days on end he fears the dark and spaces where he can touch all four walls at the same time. He is also afraid of rejection, as making friends was part of his survival as a foster kid.
Strengths: He knows how to fight pretty well, though he hates to in the first place. He can usually talk his way out of any situation, such as a fight or detention.
WeaknessesHe hates hurting other people, and hates it when people hurt him emotionally. He’s afraid that if he gets with anybody else it would be like betraying Jeramiah.
Dreams:To get out of this private school, get back with Jeremiah and live with him, own his own house. The usual stuff.
Personality:Klint might not be the most perfect person in the world, but he has people skills. He can make friends most anywhere he goes, but usually he chooses not to, staying more aloof and secretive. He hates it when people are stronger than him, but being so skinny it happens a lot. When people murmur near him, he automatically thinks they’re talking about him and he often times gets in fights about nothing. He’s a very suspicious lad, and it’s quite often difficult to make a first good impression on him.
.ze past
Family Members: Mother: Nichole Acker. Father: Albert Acker. Step dad: Tony Ray
Hometown: Chino Hills, southern California
History:At the beginning of his 16 years, life had been good for Klint. He was the single child of a happily married couple in Chino Hills, southern California. His mother, Nichole Acker, was a well paid Doctor who was making more than six figures, and his father was a newly employed teacher of accounting. That is how it was for the first seven years of Klints life, going out on random picnics and to the beach in happily with innocence. But it all had to change.
His father found out that his mother was having an affair. It brought out the worst in him; a side nobody knew existed. He became abusive toward is wife; Often times Klint would sneak downstairs after listening to one of their ferocious battles, and find his mother curled up and bleeding on the kitchen floor. For a while he had been naive enough to believe her story of “she had hurt herself cooking”, but whenever he checked the pots they were covered in a thin layer of dust. His mother was not the only one who abused by the now out of control father. Klint had his fairy share of beatings, but his mother always threw herself as a human shield between them, causing his father to fall further into his abyss of rage.
Four days from his eight birthday, child protection services were suddenly pounding on the door. Neighbors, hearing the ruckus, had apparently called them. Whenever he thinks about the last time he saw his parents, it tears at him. The last thing he ever saw of his parents were his mother’s tear stained face as his father held her back, and his own father’s look of complete disgust.
Klint lived his eight and ninth birthdays in a foster home. He hated it there, but to survive he was forced to make friends. The foster home was where, at the age of 9, Klint got into the habit of smoking. It happened innocently and openly; He had merely stumbled upon some of the teenagers smoking in the back, and they offered him some. Back then he had been eager to please and eager to fit in, so he took it like a puppy takes a treat. Soon after this, he was adopted out to a single father; Tony Ray.
Life with his new step dad was okay for the first year or two. They moved to a nice little town in north California called Ukiah, where he was sent to a public school. There he made an amount of friends, though he was never able to climb the status ladder high enough to be a ‘popular kid’. Most everyday he was in detention, usually for not doing his homework or arguing with the teacher over the most ridiculous things. It was like this for two years, until Klint was fourteen. Friends came and gone, fought and made up. He had had several girlfriends by then, even lost his virginity to one, but they never stuck. That was when he met Jeramiah, who made him realize he was bi.
Klint and Jeramiah had been the only boy couple in high school. Though Jeramiah was pretty much popular in school, it didn’t stop the others from taunting him in the hallways. It rolled right off of Jeramiah’s back, and affected by his self confidence, it slid off of Klint’s too. It was a pretty good relationship with Jeramiah, they never really argued. They made out, proudly kissed in public, all the normal stuff. Sometime when he was fourteen, he got drunk with a group of his friends. They were hanging out at the park when the usual group of gay bashers arrived, and found Klint and Jeramiah sitting on a table. They started jeering at the couple, and the leader of the pack, Kyle, was even cocky enough to start throwing rocks and broken beer bottles at them. Klint was trying his hardest to ignore them, watching the blade Jeramiah was playing with intently, but when he watched a rock slice open Jeramiah’s cheek, he lost it. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was grabbing Jeramiah’s blade and rushing at Kyle with it. He cant really remember what he did to Kyle; all he can remember was waking up with his shirt ripped to tatters and crusted with his and kyle’s dried blood, and the blade still clutched in his fist had become bloody.
“Jesus Christ” Jeramiah said dully. “Both of you are unconscious..he got you pretty good with a broken beer bottle…come on I’ll help you home and cleaned up” Everyone was gone, except Jeramiah, Klint, and the unconscious body of Kyle. With a shaky sigh, and a mumbled “Shit his friends probably told the cops”, Jeramiah helped Klint stumble to his house, glad that his step-dad wasn’t there. Jeramiah helped Klint to the couch and dropped him; Klint was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The next thing Klint woke up to were sirens outside and a furious banging on the door. Klint sat up, deciding that was defiantly not helping his hangover, and held his head groggily. He watched as his step-dad walked towards the door. “It’s two in the fucking morn- Oh hello officer” he said, going from a drunken slurr to a military bark in a matter of seconds. “What seems to be the problem?” He listened silently as the officer explained that Klint was under arrest for “Underage Drinking” and “Attempted murder”. Klint got up unsteadily, trying to explain what happened, but the cops ignored him and cuffed him. As he was led to the patrol car, he saw Jeramiah. “Get a half a heart tattoo” he muttered quietly, so only Klint could hear. Not understanding why, Klint merely nodded, feeling that if he opened his mouth he would puke.
Tony had gotten the best lawyer they could afford without going bankrupt, but the best he could do was convince the judge that it was merely an assault, and shortened lints stay in juvenile to two years.
Life in juvenile hall wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be. Nobody was raping anybody else and people didn’t stab each other with sharpened spoons every chance they got. No, It was a tight nit circle between the inmates, as they had each other to fall back on whenever something happened. Not to say it wasn't hell on earth, though. There were plenty of fights and drama going around, but this drama you couldn’t get away from. You were forced to stick with it till the end. It was in this juvenile hall that he got the tattoo on his hip, here where he took a liking to drugs, here was where much of his innocence was stripped of him.Juvenile
When he was finally let out of juvenile, it was with bitter feelings. On one hand, he felt like he was deserting his fellow comrades, but he also wanted to move on his with his life. His step dad had to be bribed to accept Klint back into his home, but in reality everyone knew Klint wasn’t accepted there anymore. Even the public school he had spent so many years at wouldn’t allow him back in; He was too much of a danger to the other students with his criminal record. At a loss of what to do, Tony began to try and beat some sense into Klint. This only caused problems because Klint was basically it. He took to the habit of basically living at Jeramiah’s house, only sneaking back when he knew his father was out. The few times he miscalculated, he paid dearly. His father would fly into a horrible rage and beat him, leaving him bruised and bloody in a locked closet for days at a time. Then he would go to jeramiahs house for a few weeks, until Jeramiah’s parents kicked him out,even though they knew what was going on. It was during one of his stays with Jeramiah that he first had sex with another man.
Unfortunately, his step dad found a school that either didn’t know about his criminal record or they ignored it. There were countless days of arguing, until one day his step dad basically dragged him into the car and dumped him on the airplane. The last thing he had ever seen of his best friend was through a car window, struggling to hold back tears.
.other
Anything Else: He still has the blade Jeramiah “gave” to him, and usually carries it in his back left pocket, just in case.role playing
.role playing
Please provide a role playing sample: Hard, bloodied pads sunk deep into the hot sands of the dune. A grizzled, dead mane twitches in the undying breeze, lifting sand through the air and causing it to waft through his lungs. God...how did he get here? He wasn't made for deserts..he thought back but couldn't remember anything before the sand...all he could remember was the never ending ache in his throat for just a drop of water.
With a ragged sigh, he finally stopped to rest at the top. As he watched the horizon idly, his heart suddenly leapt. The emaciated lions eye's, only moments before glazed over, suddenly snapped to attention. There was water..on the dune on the horizon. All he needed was water...then everything would be fine. He would be back home with his pride...all he needed was that puddle of water.
With bounding leaps he flew down the dune, his paws barely touching the ground, the tortured yellow eyes now filled with an eager pleading. He ignored the aching in his legs, the burning of his lungs, the way each step almost made him collapse. After hours, which only seemed like moments, he began to steep climb up the side of the dune. He closed his eyes as he reached the top, taking one last rusty breath before plunging deep into the oasis.
Into sand. With a pathetic mewling, the lion unburied his head. No...this wasn't water. It was just...sand. He looked at the spot where it should of been, as if concentrating hard enough could bring it back. Maybe he hadn't gotten here fast enough? Had the sun already taken it? He couldn't be delusional...it had been too real. He suddenly spit the residing sand in his mouth out rather easily; not one grain was wet with saliva. As he sat there pondering, his legs still shaking, he suddenly collapsed into a pathetic, miserable pile. His eyes were shut tight, and if he could've cried any time in his life it would've been then. He opened his eyes after god knows how long, and blinked. His heart gave another half hearted flare. He could see, on the horizon, an oasis. This one, he was sure, was real. He couldn't be tricked twice...This time it was real. He saw water.
He struggled slowly to his knees,completely unable to hold his weight completely. Already organs had begun to shut don; but he couldn't understand this. All he could understand was the ache in his throat. Unable to get up any to wards, he began a miragete crawl towards yet another desperate; doomed to repeat this cycle forever.
Your Name:Aisha.[That name is the antichrist…Just call me snarky]
How Long Have You Been RPing?:6-7 years.
.in character
.basic info
Name:Klinton Acker
Nickname:Klint
Age: Barely 16
Birthday: February 23rd
Year:3rd
Nationality:White/Mexican
Orientation: Bi
Religion:Atheist
[/size]
.appearance
Hair Color:Black
Eye Color:Grey
Height:5’7
Weight: 116 lbs
Clothes Style: He hates the school uniforms, but wears it begrudgingly, not wanting to be sent home. When he’s allowed to wear what he wants, he likes the tighter kind of clothes that show off his body. Belts are a must, in his opinion and he normally just wears whatever shirt he grabs first.
Basic Appearance: Straight hair that he hates to cut but loves to color. His hair is fizzled and dead from coloring, probably more than a hundred times. Many have told him his hair is gonna fall out, and his response has always been “It’ll grow back”
He tries to tease it everyday, but sometimes he's too tired or he just doesn't feel like it. When that happens, he's still just as confident walking around.
His face is evenly proportion, nothing to notice really, except his scarred lips from his habit of splitting it open. He’s always hated his face though, and ever since he was young got in the habit of using his hair as a curtain to cover it. His body is lean, some might even say skinny, and he loves to wear tight clothes. He’s a very self conscious person, and is nervous about changing in front of others. Not because of the tattoo on his hip, which is of half a heart, but because of the scars that decorate his chest and back from a knife fight he had gotten in when he was drunk with his friends.
.attitude
Talents: He never gets praise that often, and so he decided himself that he was a good artist, though he draws more abstract art which many people don’t appreciate.
Likes:
Cats
Smoking [drugs in general]
Alcohol
Change
The cold
Men
Women
Music, basically everything besides country
Friends
Art
Sensual pain[He’s somewhat of a masochist]
Anarchy/Chaos [though he can’t really do that here]
Light shows
Rough sex
Biting
Scratches
Blindfolds
Dislikes:
Liars
Cheaters
Homophobics
Uniforms
Closed spaces[He’s rather claustrophobic]
Assholes
Losing
Dogs
Arrogant People
Nosy people
Clingy people
Sheeple
The dark
Fears: As a result of being locked in a closet for days on end he fears the dark and spaces where he can touch all four walls at the same time. He is also afraid of rejection, as making friends was part of his survival as a foster kid.
Strengths: He knows how to fight pretty well, though he hates to in the first place. He can usually talk his way out of any situation, such as a fight or detention.
WeaknessesHe hates hurting other people, and hates it when people hurt him emotionally. He’s afraid that if he gets with anybody else it would be like betraying Jeramiah.
Dreams:To get out of this private school, get back with Jeremiah and live with him, own his own house. The usual stuff.
Personality:Klint might not be the most perfect person in the world, but he has people skills. He can make friends most anywhere he goes, but usually he chooses not to, staying more aloof and secretive. He hates it when people are stronger than him, but being so skinny it happens a lot. When people murmur near him, he automatically thinks they’re talking about him and he often times gets in fights about nothing. He’s a very suspicious lad, and it’s quite often difficult to make a first good impression on him.
.ze past
Family Members: Mother: Nichole Acker. Father: Albert Acker. Step dad: Tony Ray
Hometown: Chino Hills, southern California
History:At the beginning of his 16 years, life had been good for Klint. He was the single child of a happily married couple in Chino Hills, southern California. His mother, Nichole Acker, was a well paid Doctor who was making more than six figures, and his father was a newly employed teacher of accounting. That is how it was for the first seven years of Klints life, going out on random picnics and to the beach in happily with innocence. But it all had to change.
His father found out that his mother was having an affair. It brought out the worst in him; a side nobody knew existed. He became abusive toward is wife; Often times Klint would sneak downstairs after listening to one of their ferocious battles, and find his mother curled up and bleeding on the kitchen floor. For a while he had been naive enough to believe her story of “she had hurt herself cooking”, but whenever he checked the pots they were covered in a thin layer of dust. His mother was not the only one who abused by the now out of control father. Klint had his fairy share of beatings, but his mother always threw herself as a human shield between them, causing his father to fall further into his abyss of rage.
Four days from his eight birthday, child protection services were suddenly pounding on the door. Neighbors, hearing the ruckus, had apparently called them. Whenever he thinks about the last time he saw his parents, it tears at him. The last thing he ever saw of his parents were his mother’s tear stained face as his father held her back, and his own father’s look of complete disgust.
Klint lived his eight and ninth birthdays in a foster home. He hated it there, but to survive he was forced to make friends. The foster home was where, at the age of 9, Klint got into the habit of smoking. It happened innocently and openly; He had merely stumbled upon some of the teenagers smoking in the back, and they offered him some. Back then he had been eager to please and eager to fit in, so he took it like a puppy takes a treat. Soon after this, he was adopted out to a single father; Tony Ray.
Life with his new step dad was okay for the first year or two. They moved to a nice little town in north California called Ukiah, where he was sent to a public school. There he made an amount of friends, though he was never able to climb the status ladder high enough to be a ‘popular kid’. Most everyday he was in detention, usually for not doing his homework or arguing with the teacher over the most ridiculous things. It was like this for two years, until Klint was fourteen. Friends came and gone, fought and made up. He had had several girlfriends by then, even lost his virginity to one, but they never stuck. That was when he met Jeramiah, who made him realize he was bi.
Klint and Jeramiah had been the only boy couple in high school. Though Jeramiah was pretty much popular in school, it didn’t stop the others from taunting him in the hallways. It rolled right off of Jeramiah’s back, and affected by his self confidence, it slid off of Klint’s too. It was a pretty good relationship with Jeramiah, they never really argued. They made out, proudly kissed in public, all the normal stuff. Sometime when he was fourteen, he got drunk with a group of his friends. They were hanging out at the park when the usual group of gay bashers arrived, and found Klint and Jeramiah sitting on a table. They started jeering at the couple, and the leader of the pack, Kyle, was even cocky enough to start throwing rocks and broken beer bottles at them. Klint was trying his hardest to ignore them, watching the blade Jeramiah was playing with intently, but when he watched a rock slice open Jeramiah’s cheek, he lost it. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was grabbing Jeramiah’s blade and rushing at Kyle with it. He cant really remember what he did to Kyle; all he can remember was waking up with his shirt ripped to tatters and crusted with his and kyle’s dried blood, and the blade still clutched in his fist had become bloody.
“Jesus Christ” Jeramiah said dully. “Both of you are unconscious..he got you pretty good with a broken beer bottle…come on I’ll help you home and cleaned up” Everyone was gone, except Jeramiah, Klint, and the unconscious body of Kyle. With a shaky sigh, and a mumbled “Shit his friends probably told the cops”, Jeramiah helped Klint stumble to his house, glad that his step-dad wasn’t there. Jeramiah helped Klint to the couch and dropped him; Klint was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The next thing Klint woke up to were sirens outside and a furious banging on the door. Klint sat up, deciding that was defiantly not helping his hangover, and held his head groggily. He watched as his step-dad walked towards the door. “It’s two in the fucking morn- Oh hello officer” he said, going from a drunken slurr to a military bark in a matter of seconds. “What seems to be the problem?” He listened silently as the officer explained that Klint was under arrest for “Underage Drinking” and “Attempted murder”. Klint got up unsteadily, trying to explain what happened, but the cops ignored him and cuffed him. As he was led to the patrol car, he saw Jeramiah. “Get a half a heart tattoo” he muttered quietly, so only Klint could hear. Not understanding why, Klint merely nodded, feeling that if he opened his mouth he would puke.
Tony had gotten the best lawyer they could afford without going bankrupt, but the best he could do was convince the judge that it was merely an assault, and shortened lints stay in juvenile to two years.
Life in juvenile hall wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be. Nobody was raping anybody else and people didn’t stab each other with sharpened spoons every chance they got. No, It was a tight nit circle between the inmates, as they had each other to fall back on whenever something happened. Not to say it wasn't hell on earth, though. There were plenty of fights and drama going around, but this drama you couldn’t get away from. You were forced to stick with it till the end. It was in this juvenile hall that he got the tattoo on his hip, here where he took a liking to drugs, here was where much of his innocence was stripped of him.Juvenile
When he was finally let out of juvenile, it was with bitter feelings. On one hand, he felt like he was deserting his fellow comrades, but he also wanted to move on his with his life. His step dad had to be bribed to accept Klint back into his home, but in reality everyone knew Klint wasn’t accepted there anymore. Even the public school he had spent so many years at wouldn’t allow him back in; He was too much of a danger to the other students with his criminal record. At a loss of what to do, Tony began to try and beat some sense into Klint. This only caused problems because Klint was basically it. He took to the habit of basically living at Jeramiah’s house, only sneaking back when he knew his father was out. The few times he miscalculated, he paid dearly. His father would fly into a horrible rage and beat him, leaving him bruised and bloody in a locked closet for days at a time. Then he would go to jeramiahs house for a few weeks, until Jeramiah’s parents kicked him out,even though they knew what was going on. It was during one of his stays with Jeramiah that he first had sex with another man.
Unfortunately, his step dad found a school that either didn’t know about his criminal record or they ignored it. There were countless days of arguing, until one day his step dad basically dragged him into the car and dumped him on the airplane. The last thing he had ever seen of his best friend was through a car window, struggling to hold back tears.
.other
Anything Else: He still has the blade Jeramiah “gave” to him, and usually carries it in his back left pocket, just in case.role playing
.role playing
Please provide a role playing sample: Hard, bloodied pads sunk deep into the hot sands of the dune. A grizzled, dead mane twitches in the undying breeze, lifting sand through the air and causing it to waft through his lungs. God...how did he get here? He wasn't made for deserts..he thought back but couldn't remember anything before the sand...all he could remember was the never ending ache in his throat for just a drop of water.
With a ragged sigh, he finally stopped to rest at the top. As he watched the horizon idly, his heart suddenly leapt. The emaciated lions eye's, only moments before glazed over, suddenly snapped to attention. There was water..on the dune on the horizon. All he needed was water...then everything would be fine. He would be back home with his pride...all he needed was that puddle of water.
With bounding leaps he flew down the dune, his paws barely touching the ground, the tortured yellow eyes now filled with an eager pleading. He ignored the aching in his legs, the burning of his lungs, the way each step almost made him collapse. After hours, which only seemed like moments, he began to steep climb up the side of the dune. He closed his eyes as he reached the top, taking one last rusty breath before plunging deep into the oasis.
Into sand. With a pathetic mewling, the lion unburied his head. No...this wasn't water. It was just...sand. He looked at the spot where it should of been, as if concentrating hard enough could bring it back. Maybe he hadn't gotten here fast enough? Had the sun already taken it? He couldn't be delusional...it had been too real. He suddenly spit the residing sand in his mouth out rather easily; not one grain was wet with saliva. As he sat there pondering, his legs still shaking, he suddenly collapsed into a pathetic, miserable pile. His eyes were shut tight, and if he could've cried any time in his life it would've been then. He opened his eyes after god knows how long, and blinked. His heart gave another half hearted flare. He could see, on the horizon, an oasis. This one, he was sure, was real. He couldn't be tricked twice...This time it was real. He saw water.
He struggled slowly to his knees,completely unable to hold his weight completely. Already organs had begun to shut don; but he couldn't understand this. All he could understand was the ache in his throat. Unable to get up any to wards, he began a miragete crawl towards yet another desperate; doomed to repeat this cycle forever.
