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| reek_havok's Application?; oh oh pick me pick me! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 3 2010, 11:34 PM (104 Views) | |
| reek_havok | Jan 3 2010, 11:34 PM Post #1 |
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Newbie
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Username: reek_havok Preferred Name: Victoria (and any variation of the name) or Jeremy Age (optional): 104 Years role-playing: 8ish Favorite Genre: Historical Fiction Least favorite genre: Anime Anything you’d like to add: I never label my characters as uke or seme. Ever. It just seems so artificial to me. I am a HUGE fan of historical stuff that does not always fit exactly what happened in the past. If I don't know everything about a time in history, Wikipedia is my friend. I do not like to do books, anime, movies, shows, etc. Non RP: I ride horses, read a ton of books, go to college, love to have fun, and tend to get horrendously busy! Feel free to chat me up outside of playing. I love to talk to people :3 Role-playing Sample: Since his mother’s death when he was fifteen, Benson Haber spent the years before he turned eighteen being juggled between subpar foster homes. He wasn’t the most popular pick because of his age, but his big brown puppy dog eyes usually drew in the skeptics under false hope that his expression betrayed his real demeanor. Each family turned into a complete disaster whether it was a couple legitimately seeking adoption causing him to rebel or being abused by a pedophile father simply collecting children for tax reasons. Benson was broken by his mother’s passing and never found peace from grieving until he was introduced to alcohol and other drugs. They temporarily took away the pain, made it easier to pretend everything was fine, and he certainly made several friends in the foster system because of it. No one wanted to deal with his addictions and outright disturbing behaviors, nor did he appreciate being fondled by grimy old men and the sounds of other children’s sorrows. So when his eighteenth birthday finally rolled around and he was released from the government he celebrated until he realized that he had no family and no where to go. Joining the army seemed like the most reasonable choice since it gave him a job, somewhere to live, and a structured schedule that would hopefully keep him out of prison; that was his worst fear. Benson eventually got his act together a few months later and voluntarily joined the U.S. Army, but unfortunately he was recruited right before the United States decided to enter World War II. Since he didn’t quite lead a normal life he had no clue that such things were happening around the world, let alone to other Jewish people. He was angered by the injustice of it all, even though he wasn’t particularly religious, and dedicated every ounce of strength he gained throughout his experiences towards being sent overseas to exact some vengeance. Little did he know that the horrors of the war were far worse than anything he could have imagined. His tough exterior got him through basic training with ease, pushing him quickly up the ranks. All of his hard work made him forget his dependence on drugs, but it also pushed him away from his fellow comrades giving him the reputation of being cold and quiet; he definitely did not mind this. Benson didn’t need anyone else and no one certainly needed him. When he was prepared for war he was tall, lean, stern and uniform with his shaved head and suave clothing. The only features that made him stand out were his soft brown eyes and strong nose and jaw. He was a soldier through and through and he truly believed that he was ready to face whatever the Germans were planning to throw at him. For the most part, Benson hardly saw the true face of battle in the beginning since he primarily spent his time in planes, trains, or dangerously swaying Lorries. He marveled at the landscape of all the different countries in which he was stationed because he was never able to leave America before, and the only traveling he did was to another failure of a home. He felt bad sometimes for being excited about all the things he was able to see, but this guilt was quickly covered by the primal fear that was brought about by random attacks on their platoon. Benson experienced fighting in two locations where he watched people across the way get blown to pieces and his brothers shot down in front of his eyes. Death was not something foreign to him, but it certainly was a different experience when one moment you are speaking to someone and the next their jaw is missing. When he was injured he dreaded spending any length of time in the medical ward, he hated the screams of agony and all of the broken people, so he feigned health every time just to escape; it all reminded him far too much of his previous life. He tried his best to remain as steadfast and disconnected from the world as he had during training, but his wall was slowly crumbling. It would take time to get to the soft innards of his human soul, but the war was obviously speeding up the process. Benson was able to swallow the terrors of war long enough for his squad to stumble upon a small concentration camp on the outskirts of Poland. All of the soldiers were stunned by what they found, glad that they could save these people, but horrified that they did not get there soon enough to save thousands more of innocent souls. This discovery hit home with Benson and when he laid eyes upon the mess it was as if someone had punched him in the stomach, emptying him of air and emotions. He robotically did as he was told, aiding those that needed it most, removing himself from the situation entirely. He continuously reminded himself that this was his job, he was doing these people some good, and that he was an American soldier, strong to the core. His highly exercised coping skills were getting him through the hardest part of his career as a war veteran, and hopefully they would hold out until he could get home. Benson had the right personality for the job, but it was a learned personality, not who he was underneath all of the raw tragedy. This was the goal of the army though wasn’t it? They were making killing machines, not murderers; there was a clear difference. To reward the courageous group of soldiers that saved the lives of those imprisoned, they were stationed in France to take a break from it all and even send home some of those individuals that were profoundly changed by the experience. So far Benson was holding strong and agreed to remain in Europe until his service was no longer needed. The soldiers of his battalion decided to go out for a drink to ease their bodies and over stimulated minds, donning civilian gear and demeanor of men who had not seen the worst of human degeneration. Benson had agreed to join them, remembering what alcohol had done for him in the past, and dressed in a warm sweater and slacks. His short hair would be the only indication that he was anything but a normal citizen, including the fact that he was clearly American. Hanging out in a pub and chatting and drinking just like one of the boys again brought everyone back to humanity, reminding them that life continued as usual. It was the break that they were all craving. Benson sat on the outskirts of the group, nursing a mug of beer and quietly watching cliques of European ladies swarm upon the soldiers, offering services that no one else could offer. This was something that did not interest Benson at all, so he was glad that he was easily ignored. Instead he tried his hardest not to think about what had happened to him thus far. ((My stuff is not always this lengthy :x )) |
| If you're going through hell, keep going. | |
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| Purple Butterfly Pills | Jan 3 2010, 11:36 PM Post #2 |
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In Over Her Head
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**Accepted** Bit of advice, Cut up the paragraphs. >< Reading all that bunched together made my head hurt a bit. Other than that… WELCOME JEREMY! |
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[align=center]Live each day like it's your last...[/align] [align=right]Because it very well could be...[/align] | |
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