Post by Jesse Lincoln on Oct 8, 2012 16:55:18 GMT -7
JESSE|MATTHEW|LINCOLN
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Hangin' Out...Down the Street....
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[/size]IT’S A LIE SHE’S BEEN CARRING AROUND
IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
[/font][/size]IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name: Jesse Matthew Lincoln
Nickname: Jess
Age/Birthday: 12/13--16
Gender: Male
Orientation: straight
Blood Status: muggleborn
Affiliation: Warrior's Order
Year/House: 6th--Bastet
Wand: 11 inches, Mahogany, Hippogriff Talon
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[/size]TAKES PRIDE IN APPEARANCE
AND THE JOB IN HAND
[/size]AND THE JOB IN HAND
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Height: 71 inches
Weight: 150 lbs.
Distinguishing Features(if any): Well, Jesse really doesn't have any distinguishing features, except he did wear glasses for many years, and he does have a scar on the inside of his nose from getting hit in the face while playing outside and his glasses cut him up.
Play-by: Robert Hoffman
Overall appearance: Jesse is of average height and weight for his age and walks with pride. He has blonde shaggy hair that is never really done and blue eyes that catch a girl's attention. Jesse has a soft smile, not wide or toothy, but quiet. If he isn't in his school robes, he is seen in jeans and a button down shirt. He believes in looking decent most of the time. Jesse isn't usually scruffy, his face is typically clean shaven, or has a little five o'clock shadow or more if he's skipped a day or two.
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[/size]IT’S THE SIMPLE FLAW
THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
[/size]THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Erised: To find out who killed his brother; seeing his family together, unbroken.
Patronus: When his older brother Tyron died, he ended up with his patronus. It resembles itself in a black stallion, his father's, then his brother's, and now his, patronus.
Boggart: Losing his mother
Dementor: Watching his brother take his last breaths
Amortentia:Mom's cooking; Basil; Cigars
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[/size]THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T SEE
AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
[/size]AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Likes: Justice; family; Logic; Children; Girls; Falling Stars; Winning an Argument; Christmas;
Dislikes: Sluts; Rapists; Guys who think they're awesome; Mean Teachers; Homework; Transfiguration; Apparating; TV
Strengths: Being Charming; Dueling; He's understanding
Weaknesses Crying Girls; Death; His Mother
Overall Personality: Jesse is a down to earthguy. He is funny,but also very serious]/b]. He enjoys school, but will argue with authority if he doesn't feel they deserve his respect. The same goes for his friends and peers. If they don't deserve his respect, he won't be giving it to them. He is proud of where he came from, and proud of his work as a student. Pride can definitely be one of Jesse's bigger personality traits. He's proud to be a Muggleborn. Proud that his 'people' have come back from the war with their heads held high. However, Jesse is also a sad young man as his father died protecting his older brother, who was also killed almost right in front of him. He is determined. Determined to find out who it was who killed him.
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[/size]IT’S THE CRACKING OF THE GLASS
THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
[/size]THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Family: Lindsay Michelle Lincoln-doting, sweet, caring mother; Gordon John Lindoln; Tyron Andrew Lincoln- deceased older brother; Keller Breon Lincoln-14 year old brother; Dayton Joshua Lincoln-12 year old brother; Drace Garret Lincoln-11 year old brother.
Pets: Britton; black cay
Residence: Downtown L.A.
History: Jesse was born and raised in downtown L.A., California. He is one of five boys. He was born second, to an older brother two years older than him. Life was great, especially assuming, you know, that magic and everything it contains didn't exist. He was eleven when he came into his powers. He had lived a normal life. Jesse was brought up as a nice young man with a hardworking father and loving mother. He and all his brothers were taught to be respectful, work hard, and treat girls with respect. There were baseball games, working on cars, and eating pizza on Friday nights. Again, he came into his powers at eleven, but it will forever be an unfortunate event and memory for him.
He and his older brother, Tyron, and his father were out getting pizza on a Friday night. The rest of his brothers and mother were home waiting, choosing which movie they should watch. Of course, most of the boys usually preferred the football game, but their mother trumped all and usually got her way. They were at the little pizza shop at the end of the street, when a gunman entered and demanded the cashier's money, forcing all the customers the ground. Jesse's father wasn't about to this let this man get his way. He was a cheat, there wasn't anything in the world that would sit right with Jesse's father if he let this man get away. So he rushed the gunman, and Tyron followed suit. By the time Jesse was up and figuring out what was happening, the gunman had pulled the trigger multiple times and both Tyron and Jesse's father were dead on the floor. He came into his powers as he sat there, rocking back and forth wishing the scene would go away. He wished it all to go away; and everyone aside from his brother and father, went away. They disappeared, and Jesse will forever remember sitting in the cornerand covering his ears from the gunshots instead of helping his father and brother. He doesn't blame himself, but he assumes he could have done something to help.
Weeks later, Jesse was sent to Heka's as a first year. He enjoyed it. He was able to get the gruesome deaths off his mind during the day at lessons. However, at night the nightmares came, waking him up in a cold sweat and tears. To this day the nightmares haunt his sleep. His brothers followed him to Heka's as they also came into their powers and he continues to help them in the studies. He's made friends and enjoys his teachers. However, during his second year, Jesse did indeed discover he was a seer, and pretty good at it. He only wishes he had come into this power before his brother and father had been shot...
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[/size]YOU TOOK YOUR EYES UP OFF THE GAME
YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
[/size]YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name/Alias: Sophie
Age: 26
Roleplay Experience: 5 years?
How you heard about us: Members tend to run in the same circles as other members of other sites.
Code Phrase: admined
Roleplay Sample:
Shane first stared at Mercedes, unaware of what to say or do. Hell, even his head wasn’t even working right. Everything was fuzzy and seemed a little blurry. He assumed it was because of the fact that he’d hit his head on that damn wall. Although he felt dumb and stupid, he just stood there. That made him feel even more like an idiot. And to put the rest to shame, he was crying. Shane Dorsal. King of jokes, pranks, plans, and smiles was crying.
He sniffled and in moments, was enveloped in one of Mercedes’ hugs. On any other day, he would have welcomed that hug, grabbed the girl, and swung her around in a circle, laughing through the whole thing. However, this wasn’t a normal day at the Fairchild house. It was the day that had finally come from Hell and captured him its cold grasp. He stood there, letting her cry and hug him; her hot tears on his neck and shoulder. Why was she crying? Had he done that? Had he made Mercedes cry?
Eventually, though, he couldn’t resist the hug. He slowly let his arms come up and hug her back. Shane couldn’t put his finger on why it was so hard for him to want to hug her. It was like touching him hurt. He was terrified to be touched, but by Mercedes? However, as he was thinking those thoughts, he realized he was hugging her harder and tighter than he had intended to. His tears were still running down his bruised face and his nose was stuffy and running. When he broke the hug, he once again wipe his running nose on his sweatshirt like a child. ”That’s my shirt,” he said through tears and a stuffy nose. He quietly and dejectedly slid passed her and into the house. It was warm and all he wanted was a hot shower and some food.
That house. It had always been, and would always be, his safe haven. He’d run to their house before after his dad had hit him, but never this bad. It was never in a place like Silver Beach, which was supposed to be safe and rid of Henry Dorsal. This house; it was always full of people who loved each other, full of laughter, full of….family. It almost made him mad, but then he thought about why he felt like he wanted to stay and never leave. His own father could care less; but Mr. Fairchild was at every band concert, and Mercedes wasn’t even in band. Mrs. Fairchild made him meals and sent his lunches in a bag with Mercedes when he was younger; and he wasn’t even there when she made it. The twins; they pranked him and didn’t beat the shit out of him when he pranked them back. Ellis; well, he treated Shane the same as he treated everyone else, so he took that as a good sign. And Cam. Shane wiped his face again, standing there in the middle of the room, and thought about Cam, who was undoubtedly sleeping. That boy laughed, jumped, and giggled when he went to their gigs. It wasn’t anyone else but him, and maybe Mercedes, that he was amazed at on that stage. Cam was his favorite little person in the world. And the house always smelled like syrup or pancakes or something.
Shane bit his lip, sniffled, and then rubbed his forehead hard with his hand. If anywhere in the world he fit in, it was right there in that house. So that’s where he broke down. It took a minute, but it happened. By the time he was in the kitchen with Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, he couldn’t hold it in. Mrs. Fairchild was there, looking sleepy, worried, and like she herself had been crying. Mr. Fairchild looked calm, concerned, and nearly happy to see him there. And Mercedes was right there with him the whole time. In the kitchen, he sat down in a chair, put his head on his arms on the table, and cried. His head and his face hurt, and after he was done crying, he realized his ribs hurt from when he’d been kicked. Finally, he picked his head up, his chin resting on his forearms and looked at everyone. His eyes were puffy and red, and his nose was still running. His bruises throbbed. ”I know that I’m a burden, but thank you so much for being up so late and letting me stay here. I have been out since last night, when I left that sh—stupid group home. After I left my dad, I just ran. Until I got too cold. So I texted Mercedes,” he said through his stuffy nose. He looked at Mercedes, sudden embarrassment dawning on him completely. He looked then to Mrs. Fairchild, the mother he never had. The mother he never would have. The last time she’d seen Shane cry was the last time Henry had hit him in New York. It had been another bad beating and he’d needed a butterfly stitch in his forehead. Mrs. Fairchild fixed it and put him on the couch with some tacos and that New York blanket. Shane sighed and said, ”Mrs. Fairchild, I know it’s like midnight, but I’m really hungry.” He sighed again and let his head fall back on his arms, looking at her with sleepy eyes. Then his gaze went to Mr. Fairchild. It was weird. He felt like he’d let him down somehow, but he couldn’t figure out why he felt like that, or even assume what he would have let him down with. ”I’m sorry, Mr. Fairchild,” he said, new tears coming to his eyes. ”It was all my fault! I was stupid enough to go into that alley with him. It was a public place! I didn’t think he’d do anything in a public place with people around! But then…” he stopped, and shrugged, ”I’m so sorry.” Shane shook his head and sighed, letting his head fall back onto the table. Without Mercedes and her family, Shane would have absolutely nobody to fix him. They always did put him back together. Shane doubted they’d be able to this time. It was his fault, and he’d dragged everyone down with him. He was the shit on their shoe.
He sniffled and in moments, was enveloped in one of Mercedes’ hugs. On any other day, he would have welcomed that hug, grabbed the girl, and swung her around in a circle, laughing through the whole thing. However, this wasn’t a normal day at the Fairchild house. It was the day that had finally come from Hell and captured him its cold grasp. He stood there, letting her cry and hug him; her hot tears on his neck and shoulder. Why was she crying? Had he done that? Had he made Mercedes cry?
Eventually, though, he couldn’t resist the hug. He slowly let his arms come up and hug her back. Shane couldn’t put his finger on why it was so hard for him to want to hug her. It was like touching him hurt. He was terrified to be touched, but by Mercedes? However, as he was thinking those thoughts, he realized he was hugging her harder and tighter than he had intended to. His tears were still running down his bruised face and his nose was stuffy and running. When he broke the hug, he once again wipe his running nose on his sweatshirt like a child. ”That’s my shirt,” he said through tears and a stuffy nose. He quietly and dejectedly slid passed her and into the house. It was warm and all he wanted was a hot shower and some food.
That house. It had always been, and would always be, his safe haven. He’d run to their house before after his dad had hit him, but never this bad. It was never in a place like Silver Beach, which was supposed to be safe and rid of Henry Dorsal. This house; it was always full of people who loved each other, full of laughter, full of….family. It almost made him mad, but then he thought about why he felt like he wanted to stay and never leave. His own father could care less; but Mr. Fairchild was at every band concert, and Mercedes wasn’t even in band. Mrs. Fairchild made him meals and sent his lunches in a bag with Mercedes when he was younger; and he wasn’t even there when she made it. The twins; they pranked him and didn’t beat the shit out of him when he pranked them back. Ellis; well, he treated Shane the same as he treated everyone else, so he took that as a good sign. And Cam. Shane wiped his face again, standing there in the middle of the room, and thought about Cam, who was undoubtedly sleeping. That boy laughed, jumped, and giggled when he went to their gigs. It wasn’t anyone else but him, and maybe Mercedes, that he was amazed at on that stage. Cam was his favorite little person in the world. And the house always smelled like syrup or pancakes or something.
Shane bit his lip, sniffled, and then rubbed his forehead hard with his hand. If anywhere in the world he fit in, it was right there in that house. So that’s where he broke down. It took a minute, but it happened. By the time he was in the kitchen with Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, he couldn’t hold it in. Mrs. Fairchild was there, looking sleepy, worried, and like she herself had been crying. Mr. Fairchild looked calm, concerned, and nearly happy to see him there. And Mercedes was right there with him the whole time. In the kitchen, he sat down in a chair, put his head on his arms on the table, and cried. His head and his face hurt, and after he was done crying, he realized his ribs hurt from when he’d been kicked. Finally, he picked his head up, his chin resting on his forearms and looked at everyone. His eyes were puffy and red, and his nose was still running. His bruises throbbed. ”I know that I’m a burden, but thank you so much for being up so late and letting me stay here. I have been out since last night, when I left that sh—stupid group home. After I left my dad, I just ran. Until I got too cold. So I texted Mercedes,” he said through his stuffy nose. He looked at Mercedes, sudden embarrassment dawning on him completely. He looked then to Mrs. Fairchild, the mother he never had. The mother he never would have. The last time she’d seen Shane cry was the last time Henry had hit him in New York. It had been another bad beating and he’d needed a butterfly stitch in his forehead. Mrs. Fairchild fixed it and put him on the couch with some tacos and that New York blanket. Shane sighed and said, ”Mrs. Fairchild, I know it’s like midnight, but I’m really hungry.” He sighed again and let his head fall back on his arms, looking at her with sleepy eyes. Then his gaze went to Mr. Fairchild. It was weird. He felt like he’d let him down somehow, but he couldn’t figure out why he felt like that, or even assume what he would have let him down with. ”I’m sorry, Mr. Fairchild,” he said, new tears coming to his eyes. ”It was all my fault! I was stupid enough to go into that alley with him. It was a public place! I didn’t think he’d do anything in a public place with people around! But then…” he stopped, and shrugged, ”I’m so sorry.” Shane shook his head and sighed, letting his head fall back onto the table. Without Mercedes and her family, Shane would have absolutely nobody to fix him. They always did put him back together. Shane doubted they’d be able to this time. It was his fault, and he’d dragged everyone down with him. He was the shit on their shoe.
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Feel free to add and change as necessary, but please do leave my credit here.
I worked very hard on this, and I’d rather not
have to send my horde of zombie soldiers after you.
[/size][/center]Feel free to add and change as necessary, but please do leave my credit here.
I worked very hard on this, and I’d rather not
have to send my horde of zombie soldiers after you.
I hope this isn't a problem. 
