Title: FULLER, romeo
Romeo Fuller - December 2, 2007 08:52 PM (GMT)
Alias: Turner. =]
Age: Eighteen.
How Did You Find Us? RPG-Directory.
Other Characters: None.
Full Name: Romeo Alexander Fuller.
Nicknames: Rome, Rommy, Fuller.
Age: Sixteen.
Gender: Male.
Birthday: October 26th.
Astrological Sign: Scorpio.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.
Grade: Sophomore.
Clique: Rebels.
School Activities: Football (Running Back), Swimming (Individual Medley).
Power: Intangibility. The ability to "phase" through objects, such as walls.
Personality Traits: Entertaining. Mischevious. Teasing. Cocky. Naughty (interpret as you like).
General Personality: Romeo has always had the potential to climb the social ladder of Aura Academy -- he has simply... chosen not to (by making fun of the kids that could pull him up, of course; no one is safe from Romeo's pranks). Always knowing how to bring a smile to someone's face, whether he puts himself on the line of embarassment or he teases other people, Romeo is a natural attendee at any party -- often as the one that climbs up on the table and starts dancing ridiculously in a half-drunken stupor. His reputation somewhat precedes him; professors know of his mischevious ways and know better than to turn a blind eye -- most girls know that he has a tendency to be unfaithful, as he attends many parties and often forgets what he is doing. Regardless of his "wild," "uncontrolled" behavior, he's generally a nice guy. Although his laid-back persona and easy appearance give him the aura of some friendly, approachable guy, it's rather difficult to determine where you stand with Romeo. He teases people; it is in his nature to toy and experiment... even if it means breaking hearts in the process. Romeo is by no means callous or cold; he is probably one of the easiest people to talk to -- it is simply a matter of whether or not Rome is amusing himself. He's more than willing to share his experiences and advice, although he is not a very good friend. He's everyone's "buddy," but few can consider him a friend; people forget that he is not to be trusted -- constantly occupied with things to do, people to see, Romeo is rather bad at keeping promises.
Romeo comes off as comfortable; he is not easily rattled by sour comments and he doesn't get defensive. Laughing off most his troubles, Rome is an accurate example (although not ideal) of a person who lives in the moment; carpe diem. Only thinking ahead to whatever parties or social events he may attend, Romeo is blind to the problems that he creates around him and the hindsight to learn from his mistakes. Rarely without a smile or some sense of humor, Rome chooses to be the center of attention and enjoys pleasing people, supplying them with their wants... after all, he's got a pocketbook with seemingly, no end. Truly believing that money can buy just about anything, Romeo constantly lacks the feeling of satisfaction, thus driving him further to obtain little lusts and desires. He'll buy friends, he'll buy things, he'll buy sexual partners -- anything and everything to satiate his hunger for more.
Likes:
- Rock, especially of the heavier genre.
- Drinking, partying. The usual "bad" teenage things.
- Doing stupid but extremely exciting things. Laughing.
- Swimming, football; anything physical, really.
- Private encounters of the sexy kind. Sex.
- Fighting; "Pride Fighting." Wrestling. Kickboxing.
- Money -- he's grown up spending it his entire life.
- Piper. She's one of the only sincere people he knows.
- Pulling pranks, getting away with breaking the rules.
- Cute girls. Smart girls. Funny girls. Hot girls. Women.
- Dogs; his pup Hunter who he had to unforunately leave at home.
Dislikes:
- Television -- it's a load of crap controlled by the government.
- History, he sucks at it and, generally, school as a whole.
- Drugs (but he will smoke cigarettes). It's disgusting and unclean.
- Figures of authority, especially restricting and overpowering ones.
- Pickles. He's allergic to them... strangely enough.
- Stupid people. Annoying people. Loud people.
- Drawing; his skill only goes as far as stick people.
Habits:
- Grinds his teeth in his sleep; insomniac tendencies.
- Laughing for no reason. Making fun of people unintentionally.
- Pulls at his hair and sets his jaw when irritated or frustrated.
Pet Peeves:
- People that try too hard. People that try to impress.
- Whores, sluts; girls that don't leave anything to the "imagination."
- When he gets corrected for his grammar or spelling.
- When people try to correct just about anything.
- Repeating himself, especially if he has to explain things.
- People that pick on his little sister, Piper.
Height & Weight: 6'3" / 182 lbs.
Piercings/Tattoos: None.
Picture:
Appearance: Some people swear they've seen Romeo modeling here and there, possibly in a calendar once or twice -- all of which are untrue (after the stage of a toddler, anyway), but Romeo loves the attention. Bright, blue eyes -- azure with faint, honey flecks. Blond hair, hay, tickling slightly past his ears and brow. His features are sharp, almost serpentine -- his face and neck lack significant flesh, emphasizing the bold skeletal structure that underlies his facial features. It has a strong, Roman feel; the lines of his face still hold the majority of their soft, younger, boyish curves. They are somewhat sharp, defined -- it is evident that he is starting to mature into the older stages of manhood. Romeo's lips are thin, his eyebrows are angled. His hair often has little work, it appears tousled -- or simply not trifled with from the aid of a beanie or such; his face is free of blemishes and scars. His complexion is more of a rich olive than tan -- his love of swimming outdoors shows. He is overall of a healthy appearance, physically fit, healthy smoker's skin, white teeth. He plays the part of a player, and he certainly looks it -- few people in the school can boast a eleven-thousand-dollar Rolex watch.
After all, with as much money as he has, appearance is crucial.
There are no imperfections to the outward appearance of Romeo Fuller's body. He does, however, suffer from a poor, low metabolism. To maintain his figure and health, Romeo does not eat much -- some claim him to be "anorexic" as he few people see him eat; he will eat as little as an apple or two a day and nothing more. Smoking helps whenever an appetite develops; if he decides to drink at a party, he will not eat the next day. Although his diet is seemingly unhealthy, Romeo maintains a decent stamina and endurance throughout the day; he is fine.
It's genetics, he says.
Family Members:
- Father: Daniel Fuller, 44, Father, Real Estate Mogul.
- Mother: Maria Fuller, 38, Mother, Socialite.
- Sister: Piper Fuller, 15, Student (Freshman).
Pet(s): Hunter, golden retriever pup. At "home."
Financial Status: Lots of dough. Like almost Paris Hilton wealthy, I guess.
History: "You know, I don't really like to talk about myself, but if it'd entertain you -- aw, I guess why not. Anyway, back in the day a stone's throw away from the Empire State Building and somewhere in New York, I was born and the world became a better place. I was pretty well off as a little runt; my mum used to show me little magazine pictures of me modeling and shit. I was pretty badass in the day. Anywho, a little more than a year later, my sister was born. I don't remember anything about us as little kids, but I remember one time I stole my sister's toy and she didn't realize it... well, I think she didn't realize it, but my Optimus Prime action figure disappeared too -- whatever, she was a clever little devil. Our younger years were pretty alright, we always got what we wanted and we were the "popular" kids in elementary school -- is that even possible?"
He laughs. "Elementary school had its ups and downs; middle school just had a bit of hormones here and there and wasn't much different. I remember I'd do all kinds of shit with my buddies; don't know where they are now... I haven't talked to them for some time. I think it was seventh grade that I realized something was wrong with me. One day when we were playing soccer, I saw someone running straight toward me when I had possession of the ball... and right when his big, fat, sweaty body was going to crush me, I somehow... went... through him. I didn't realize it right away, I just kept running the ball while everyone was staring aghast at me. Someone who had been recording the soccer match fainted. My nanny at the time stole the tape and it was nothing more than a rumor for some time. My nanny swore not to tell my parents -- you see, I was pretty close to my nanny since she had been wiping my ass since I was about three months."
"Any-who, I'd find myself slipping through my bed and floor in the middle of the night whenever I'd have nightmares. One day I figured I'd use my talent to my advantage. I will admit, I have stolen some shit from stores every now and then... even though I could just buy it. I don't know -- it's something about the adrenaline, I guess. It's a lot more exciting when people have that 'WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED' face. Or reaction. I don't know if it'd be on their face, since I'd be running away."
"Anyway, things weren't all that exciting until last year, when I was a freshman. I lost my virginity to some Sa-- Su... I don't remember her name. My parents flipped out when my sister and I got invitations to Aura Academy. They denied anything was wrong with us... but when Piper had the balls to do some hocus-pocus shit with some light from her hand, things went sour. They locked her up in her room for like, a month and it was fucking terrible. I tried to visit her as much as I could. My parents didn't know there was something 'wrong' with me, so I did my best to comfort my little sister. Then we made a plan... to get away. I couldn't live with one of the most important people in my life being caged like an animal." Romeo sighs and shifts in his seat. "We ran away, away to Aura. When my parents found out, they just... literally, gave up on us. Not that either of us minds, of course -- we're somewhat better off without them. And now... my sister is starting high school. I know what it was like for me in my first year. Shit, drama, sex, drugs, shit, girls, parties, drama, drama... I can only hope that it goes better for her than it did for me."
"Regardless, I'm always here for her. I'll always have her back."
Magic Words: Admin Edit
RP Sample: As Mikhail D. Kostov at EWSotA.
| QUOTE |
| Dumbasses. The professor had left sometime prior, probably to escape the raging hormones and stupidity of his “knowledge-eager” neophytes. The moment his office door had closed, the room had erupted into chaos; girls began to flip their hair with their tiny hands and gossip about some goddamned thing that Mikhail couldn’t give a shit about – the jocks collected together into one corner of the studio and began to talk of the latest football game. Some of the more diligent students continued about developing their portfolios; Mikhail sat idle, his eyes tracing over each face in the room. This is AP Art. He could not figure why such precious time would be thrown away for the musings of entertaining one another. With an unsuppressed sigh, he turned in his seat and proceeded about his monotype print. Quick, thick strokes of the brush with a masterful precision on the plexi-glass molded his composition; within minutes, he was grabbing a damp paper and slapping it onto the ink. Applying careful pressure with a brayer, he pulled the print and took several steps away from it. Once satisfied, he took up his black Sharpie and went about attacking the paper. Knowing better than to leave his piece drying in the same room with immature dicks, Mikhail collected his things and decided to go elsewhere for the remainder of the period. Mikhail paused in the doorway entrance of the student lounge, as if to register what was taking place – then, nonchalantly, he turned towards the couch and seated himself, silently. Placing the print safely near one corner of the table, he plopped the duffel bag he had been holding beside him; the quiet of the room was briefly disturbed by the metal prongs of a zipper coming apart and quickly after, the sound of ruffling paper. The contents of his bag were unusually organized, divided into color-coordinated folders of a dull, rusty sort of hue. He pulled out a textbook – labeled Calculus in some fancy print – and automatically flopped it onto the table, proceeding to turn the pages carefully with calloused fingertips, as if the thing itself was delicate and prone to damage. A notebook soon followed after the textbook, finding its own place beside it on the table. The German went about jamming buttons on his graphing calculator to slowly scribbling numbers and variables onto the paper. He had the intimidating sort of appearance, despite the lack of weight on his frame – as he shifted his arms, the lines of muscle that underlined his taut flesh were evident signs of his physical prowess. The German was thin, but not underdeveloped. His hair was ruffled; his shirt was wrinkled. Dark crescents traced beneath the line of his eyes, signature to Mikhail’s recent sleep deprivation. Occasionally, a thin square hand would rise to rub away the tiring dust that collected on his eyelids; an indelicate and wide yawn emitted in unison whenever he would turn a page. Within a few minutes, Mikhail closed the textbook quietly and slammed his notebook closed, pushing them aside as he began to shuffle through his bag. He wore a “Tool” tee, ripped slightly at the hem of one short sleeve; jeans patterned with drops and thin lines of accidental paint hugged at his hips, held up by a simple, black leather belt. The German’s Etnies had some wear and scuffled damage of them – the rubber backing of his right shoe was nearing the point of being ripped off. The whitening of his knees on the jeans, along with the quality and condition of his shoes, both were enough to signify his liking to skateboard, even with the absence of the object itself. A few scabbing wounds lined his exposed elbows; a few yellowing bruises collected along the side of his face and hands. Despite these injuries, Mikhail’s movements did not seem the slightest bit awkward or forced. The German held a tired expression; the corners of his savage mouth were dipped down in dissatisfaction and disappointment. An old scar sketched down from his brow and over his temple, finishing somewhere in the corner of his thin lips; its jagged quality whispered of a violent origin. However, despite his malicious appearance, his shoulders sagged with the expression of a burdened man. He was evidently tired – of what? One would have to ask, but an answer would not be guaranteed. He seemed to completely ignore – or even, become completely oblivious – of the presence of the other boy altogether, neither addressing nor sparing another glance towards his direction. It wasn’t until he spoke aloud that such an assumption was smutted to falsehood. ”You wouldn’t happen to have any point five lead, would you?” His tone, thick with a Slavic accent, held little amusement as his eyes turned up towards the stranger artist. In his left hand, he held up a mechanical pencil. His powerful eyes were silent, as if waiting. |
Alice Black - December 2, 2007 08:57 PM (GMT)
Accepted!
Congratulations, you've been placed as a rebel.
You have been placed in the physical abilities class.
You have been placed in the evening cycle.