Post by bradford michael austen III on Jun 3, 2011 15:26:41 GMT -5
BRADFORD MICHAEL AUSTEN III
The pen is never mightier than the sword. Not in my stories, anyway.
| B A S I C S |
Name Bradford Michael Austen III.
Nicknames Some may feel an inclination to call him Brad, but he prefers Bradford.
PB Gaspard Ulliel.
Age Nineteen.
Sex Male.
Year Sophomore.
Major/Concentration Writing: creative writing.
Occupation N/A.
Organizations Is your character in any clubs? Sororities? Fraternities? Running for Student Government? Say it here! Also indicate any positions of power, but note that you need admin permission for any power position in an organization not started specifically by your character. And you need admin permission to start an organization.
Location Princeton, New Jersey.| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
Eccentric wouldn't really be the precise word to describe Bradford, but conventional and normal definitely don't fit the bill by anyone's standards. He is quite different in his methods of living life, and most of it revolves around his writing. The bulk of what he does regularly is for two purposes: college and his stories. Generally, the boy throws himself into situations that his characters throw themselves into. He has smoked a few times because his characters smoked and he wanted to get into their minds. He's gotten himself drunk before, much to the horror of his mother (and was fortunate enough to not get caught). With his families wealth, he has travelled to other countries (but being a teenage boy, he had more fun than was needed to write about a certain character). Life to him is his next prose.
Maybe that's an exaggeration; not literally every moment of his life is spent working or conspiring for the next story. Bradford does have a social life, friends, girlfriends, and drama, but he avoids drama as much as possible -- unless it's for a story. (He has broken up a few couples and gotten into spats, both physically and verbally, for the sake of entertainment before, but only his closest friends would know the truth.) Bradford enjoys partying, particularly when it's not for experimental purposes, and does not actually enjoy drinking. He's actually very intelligent, but he has a tendency to do stupid things. His common sense is what's lacking. He does not give the best of advice, but he tries to be there for his friends, rather they need a shoulder to cry on or someone needs a good fist to the face. The boy is very in-touch with his friends, and he will ask anyone - regardless of gender - what's bugging them. He's very comfortable with his sexuality, so he enjoys the occasional joke with a bud and takes the "getting in touch with your feelings" stuff very seriously without any sort of masochistic concern about being labelled homosexual.
Bradford is actually a pretty nice guy if you manage to join his inner social circle. That's not to say that he's rude or unfriendly toward those that he doesn't know - quite the opposite - but it's easier to look past his unconventional lifestyle when you actually get to know him. He constantly fights for independence: his parents expect much out of him, particularly for him to follow the footsteps of his older brothers. No. He's different because he wants to be different, and that is that. The nineteen-year-old smiles constantly, and it's usually a genuine smile. He doesn't anger easily, and even when he does, he doesn't have astronomical anger management problems that cause him to punch people in the face to make a point. He handles his problems with words or by avoiding situations altogether, which in the long-run could be seen as running away from problems, a very bad thing to do. Even verbal spats can turn into fist fights, though, and Bradford cares too much about his wonderful body - particularly his face - to involve himself in such matters -- unless, of course, for the sake of the latest prose.
Strengths: Self-motivated, friendly, independent.
Weaknesses: Unconventional, stubborn, over-excitable.
| H I S T O R Y |
Tell us your story. Please be thorough, again--we really want to know your character's story. Don't skim over important details, please, and make sure to use paragraphs.| A P P E A R A N C E |
At about 5'10", Bradford is neither too tall nor too short. He rather favours his height, and his other features complement it just nicely. His hair is dark brown by nature, and it tends to be rather messy as the boy doesn't usually agree with hair cuts -- or hairbrushes, for that matter. He does at least brush his bangs from his face, but one cannot always promise that it will stay that way. Of course, if he dresses up for formal events, then Bradford will manage himself a little better. He does shave, as facial hair gets irritating and uncomfortable, so he doesn't appear as some untidy, homeless man.
His skin is not pale, nor is it really tan; it simply is, as days at the beach or simply outside to tan are not really at the top of his list. Bradford's eyes are hazel and rather bright and friendly. He smiles constantly, even if something is troubling him. What's the point in bothering others with simple things that he shouldn't concern himself with or that he could easily correct? (He can't say that he's been through anything traumatic, though, so one could only guess how he'd handle that.) His clothing of choice is usually a button-up shirt with jeans or slacks, but he has a sort of aversion to suits. He wears them when needed, particularly as requested by his father, but dislikes them with a passion. Bradford prefers light colours over darker ones, but sometimes darker colours look nicer and, therefore, are more favoured. (He does enjoy looking his best when the time comes.) Although he prefers button-ups and pants, he will wear tee-shirts and shorts.
| S K I L L S |
The storm outside had rolled into anything but gentle, though it halted the boy none. He was sat beside the window, curtains drawn and nothing but the full moon and the light of a candle to light the pages strewn before him upon the surface of his writing desk. Bradford took great solace in these nights: the power was out, which meant that the threats of technology interrupting his creative spark were few and sparse. Truthfully, he preferred the touch of a computer when he was working on a new story and could easily do so on his laptop, but writing on paper felt positively medieval and . . . traditional. This story involved tradition, so the mere prospect provided the boy a writer's insight.
Bradford licked his lips every few seconds, though they were not dry. It was a habit of his, really, when he got into the heat of things: he positively had to activate other parts of his body, whether he was licking his lips or tapping his feet or using his free hand to brush his messy dark brown hair. This had always been the case, whether he was writing for fun or doing some silly essay for school. The nineteen-year-old sometimes felt classically trained, as though he was born to create dragons or to analyse a character from Shakespeare or to write whatever kind of essay was thrown in front of him. His parents worried about his future, but Bradford worried none. He was all set for his future, and he would be home-free once he got that writing degree.
Dinnertime, Bradford!
The boy was quite taken aback that his mother's voice became the voice of the sturdy gentleman that was helping the damsel mount the steed before Bradford realised that it was his mother's voice floating from downstairs, not swirling around his mind. How awkward it would be for his knight in shining armour to have his mother's voice! Knowing better than to keep his parents waiting, the writer drew a period and dotted his last i before setting down his pen, grabbing a clean tee-shirt from the chest-of-drawers beside his bed, and taking a moment to allow his hazel eyes to stair at the light bulb overhead. He had been so overcome with the muse to write that he had failed to notice the power being returned an hour beforehand. Chuckling lightly at his lack of attention, the boy began a pace to exit his room and trot downstairs before his mother impatiently called up once more.| P L A Y E R |
Name Sàmmius.
Age Seventeen.
Gender Male.
How you found us Greta.
Who else do you play? None.
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