Post by TACO on Jan 24, 2011 1:08:58 GMT -5
donald alexander sheffield
"show me
show me your colors
show me
don't break the spell i'm in
please don't break my heart"
NICKNAME(s) Donny
AGE 18
GENDER Male
SEXUALITY Homosexual
GROUP Human
MAJOR Sociology
OCCUPATION Italian Chef
STATUS Single
ELEMENT Air
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Standing at five foot ten inches tall, Donald weighs exactly one hundred fifty seven pounds. He has dark brown hair and beautiful yet piercing blue eyes. Donald's sense of style can best be described as both casual and comfortable. He prefers to wear jeans and sweat shirts or t-shirts with sneakers when outdoors during the winter months. Though the weather and how cold it is would determine if he'd wear a coat or not. In the summer, Donald hates wearing shoes, so if he's out camping or walking in the woods you'll see him doing so barefoot. Donald isn't the type of person who likes ties or fancy suits. He prefers to be casual, normal, and basically relaxed. Donald's habits are that he bites his fingernails, picks at his toenails, and likes to keep his body from face to toe clean shaven as well as he can. Yes, he shaves his arms and legs as well as his pubic area. He has this obsession with being smooth and hairless, adorable. His motto is that he doesn't like the taste of body hair so he doesn't want to have any. In sneakers, Donald wears a size thirteen wide. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Donald is quite well endowed in both length and girth. He's also skinny with some tone, but he isn't overly toned or buff like Taylor Lautner was in the Twilight movies.
PLAY BY Daniel Radcliffe
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-cats
-chocolate
-boys
-books
-cooking
DISLIKES
-bullies
-discrimination
-bugs
-snow/the cold
-apples
STRENGTHS
-honest/trustworthy
-determined
WEAKNESSES
-obsessive/compulsive
-emotionally dependent
OVERALL
Emotionally Dependent. Donald is afraid of never falling in love, of never finding that someone special to spend his life with. It's safe to say that Donald is somewhat Claustrophobic because if you put him in a locked room by himself with nobody to talk to, he literally breaks down into tears and begins losing his mind. When in a situation like that, he literally feels as if the walls are moving and closing in on him, suffocating him and that he can't breathe. He was locked up like that before and he literally begged and pleaded to be released, needing to be free to socialize, mingle, and breathe the fresh air in the world.
Obsessive/Compulsive. Donald is quite the determined and driven individual. When there is something that needs done, he's usually one of the first ones there to do it. He is the type of person who can't leave a task or job unfinished. If he does, it gnaws at him and torments him until he gets up and completes it to his own satisfaction and standards. Even if it just comes to writing something, Donald likes to think of himself as a Nazi because if he isn't happy with it, he doesn't think other people will be and he emotionally beats himself up over it.
Sex Addict. Even though Donald is a virgin, he's read a lot about sex as well as fantasized about it. He has erotic dreams and desires left unfulfilled. Donald is attracted to slightly younger guys and teenage boys who look a certain way. One of his secrets is that he usually masturbates anywhere from once to twice a day. There are days when he masturbates three times a day, but he doesn't usually brag.
Hypocrite. Donald is an excellent advice giver. He gives advice on family, friends, sex, and relationships. Yes, a virgin giving sex advice. Ironic, right? How he's an expert in things he's never experienced? All of his friends love him for his advice and look to him for advice because he seems to be intelligent and wise. Wise beyond his years, as if he's experienced it and lived it all before. Though despite all this, Donald doesn't usually follow his own advice. When it comes to life, even if you tell him something he doesn't know, Donald doesn't usually learn the lesson until he's experienced it himself. It's a bit like learning by doing.
Honest. Donald doesn't like being lied to. He knows how broken promises hurt people and he, himself, has been hurt or disappointed by broken promises in the past. He figures that if you can't tell the truth, don't say anything at all. Add onto this that Donald can be bluntly and brutally honest, sometimes coming off as a complete bitch because of his sincere honesty, and you basically know the kind of person he is. Yes, Donald knows how to keep secrets to protect others, but that doesn't mean he has to like the things he's keeping secret.
Protective. Donald isn't much of a physical fighter, but he will physically defend himself and those he cares about when no other choice is left to him. He prefers to talk things out and verbally settling things. In this same train of thought, Donald would rather use his gifts to defend others and to enjoy life than to hurt people. He will, however, use his gifts to kill people or creatures he feels are threatening his life or the lives of innocent people.
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MOTHER Faedra Marie Sheffield nee Cook, 37, Restaurant Owner/Executive Chef
SIBLING(S) None
OTHER None
HISTORY
Donald's basically grown up being taught and trained by his mother. As a child, when he wasn't in school, he was with his mother helping her cook, serve customers, and taking orders or running errands. He's basically grown up being what in the old days was called a 'serving wench'. His mother taught him how to cook and she'd always let him experiment with herbs, spices, sauces, and ingredients. To invent his own dishes and if they were good enough and became popular enough, they were added to the menu. Ironically enough, Donald still has trouble flipping eggs in the frying pan. In school, however, Donald was usually the shy, nervous boy who was very sensitive. It's safe to say he's been something of an Empath since birth, being able to feel and sense others emotions. He was the kid everyone usually picked on, threw spitballs at, or laughed at when something embarrassing or awkward happened to him. There was a time when Donald correctly corrected a teacher when the teacher made a false statement and claimed it true. The teacher, in retaliation, pointed out how Donald had corrected him and caused Donald an emotional breakdown.
Since then, Donald has hit puberty. He had his first crush on a fellow male classmate when he was twelve and went on thirteen. He's always remained a rather sensitive, intuitive, intelligent individual since then. He still helps his mother out in the restaurant and sometimes he looks over his father's documents and cases, correcting them and pointing out mistakes or scams here and there. One of Donald's most awkward secrets is that he's afraid of heights, but only until he's about ten feet off the ground. Once he's ten feet off the ground or higher, he feels free and absolutely at ease and relaxed. He dreams of flying and being completely free to go anywhere and do anything he wants. He isn't afraid of falling or landing, but he's afraid when his feet first leave the ground.
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NAME/ALIAS Taco
EXPERIENCE 14 Years
OTHER CHARACTER(S) None
HOW YOU FOUND US Tiger gave me the link.
ROLEPLAYING EXAMPLE FROM YOU
Harry had never liked it when people brought up his parents deaths. He hated not having parents. Everyone else had their mothers and fathers around to love them. Parents who cared about them, protected them, took them places, and spent time with them. But he didn't have that. No. All he'd have left were the Dursleys. An aunt, uncle, and cousin who'd never even wanted him around in the first place. The Dursleys hated everything about wizards, magic, and anything they considered to be unnatural or paranormal. Harry didn't know how his aunt could hate his mother, her sister, but she did. She always had. She'd told Harry so herself. It was the main reason why the Dursleys had said they hated him. Because he was his aunts sisters son. Because he was just like his parents. Not a muggle. But a wizard. Having abilities, skills, and powers that they, the Dursleys and most of the world would never have. They actually blamed him for being different. For being special. But that wasn't his fault, now was it? It wasn't like Harry had talked to God while his parents were having sex and said 'I want to be a wizard! I want to be special!' when he was concieved. He'd been born a wizard though, and that was just how things were.
Though he couldn't remember the past few years since he'd been in a coma. But he did remember that his relatives didn't want him. That all the Malfoys were foul, loathsome, evil followers of Voldemort. The man who had wanted to kill him. Harry still didn't know who had killed Voldemort or how. But it seemed he wouldn't have to do it after all. Even if the Ministry did report that there was a Prophecy in their posession that said Harry would need to be the one to kill Voldemort in the end. Though how could he kill someone who was already dead? Was there a way for wizards to live forever? A way for Voldemort to come back? Sighing softly, he really didn't have any answers to that. So unless he found someone who had an answer, or somehow came across a book with some information or something about how wizards could make themself immortal, he supposed that was one question he had that would never have an answer.
As he walked away, Harry thought about what Draco had said and how Draco had looked. What Draco had said was cruel, even heartless. Draco couldn't possibly know how he felt because Draco hadn't lived his life. In fact, Harry didn't even know if there was a way that Draco could ever sympathize with him. Or even understand. Not even if he tried to. And Harry wasn't even sure that Draco was trying to understand him. And yet, and yet there had been that look of fear in Draco's eyes. That look of terror. And before that looks of confusion, shame, humiliation, curiousity, and even possibly a bit of actual caring and compassion? Harry didn't know what was going on anymore, not even with himself. The feeling he'd had of wanting to punch Draco in the face. The desire he'd had to tear Draco limb from limb. It hadn't felt right, but in the situation his anger and emotions had flared up. Draco had brought up a very painful subject for him, had said the wrong thing. But Harry had wanted to kill Draco for that. And thinking back on it, the desire to kill Draco in that moment just didn't seem like something he would do. It seemed like something Voldemort would do if he were still around. Killing someone for saying the wrong thing or looking at him the wrong way. Harry had felt so violent in that moment, so powerful, and not only did it scare him, but he began fearing for his own sanity. Wasn't it enough that he'd lived through hell already? Why was he the one who always had to be the center of someones attention? The attention of people who wished to harm him, kill him, or use him to achieve one end or another? Was he only alive to either save people or die? It was beginning to look that way. And Harry didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.
Going over what had just happened with Draco in his mind, Harry began to wonder who Draco hated. Did Draco really hate him, or did Draco hate himself? The way the Malfoys treated him always made Harry feel as if all three of them hated him. But the marks on Draco's arm pointed to Draco hating himself. If Draco loved himself, surely he wouldn't have been cutting himself? Hurting himself and making himself bleed just so he'd feel safer? Feel as if as long as he was hurting himself that nobody could hurt him? Licking his lips, his stomach reminding him that he needed to eat, Harry blinked. He figured the house elves would still be awake. So he could always go to the kitchens and eat until his hearts content and they wouldn't mind. It was always a possibility. Suddenly, visions of food began to fill Harry's head. Plates and plates of food dancing before his mind. All the different kinds of food he could ask the house elves for that they'd be more than happy to give him. It was all so tempting. A bit too tempting. Forcing his mind back to the matter at hand, Harry forced himself to come out of daydream land and back to the present. As bleak and awkward as it was.
Was there some way to reach Draco though? Some way to get Draco to think of someone other than himself and his past? Harry had tried to there for a bit. Tried to, and failed. Or so he thought. But he could tell Draco wasn't the same as he was when he was a first year. Draco had changed. Harry had had his wand in his pocket most of the time. Draco could've easily hexed him or attacked him and he wouldn't have had time to block him. But Draco hadn't. Harry had even held Draco's hand and touched him. If Draco had wanted to do him any harm or even kill him with the Killing Curse, he could have easily done so. Yet Draco hadn't done it. Why hadn't Draco done it? Was it possible that Draco was different from his own parents? Could it even be remotely possible that Draco was the one Malfoy he could reach, that he could save from theirself? For some reason, Harry didn't want to give up hope on Draco. He believed there was some hope there. Some possibility. And he didn't want to give up on Draco just yet.
Another thing Harry wondered was why Draco hadn't said anything when he'd pinned him to the wall. Even though he'd seen fear in Draco's eyes when he'd did it, Draco hadn't said a thing. True, Draco's mouth had moved a bit, but Draco hadn't said a single thing. He could've easily denied everything, threw a few more insults and curse words Harry's way. But Draco had been completely silent. Something that Harry couldn't remember Draco ever being before. It was odd, that was for sure. But why did Draco laugh? Draco had been acting like his father, at least in Harry's opinion. And when Harry pointed that out, Draco had laughed. Harry certainly didn't seem to find that funny. Though obviously Draco did. Maybe Draco felt a bit of pride in being compared to his father? Or was happy about living up to the Malfoy name? Either way, Harry couldn't tell you which one it was. If either were true. So you'd probably do better not to even ask. Though when Draco began speaking to him again, Harry stopped walking. He refused to turn around to look at Draco. But he would listen to what Draco had to say. Especially if it might give him some answers. Or at least a valid explanation for some of the things he'd noticed about Draco in such a short amount of time. Anything to clue him in or let him know that Draco truly had changed. That Draco wasn't just another clueless, stupid idiot doing Voldemorts bidding long after he was dead. Hearing Draco still calling Voldemort the Dark Lord though, Harry didn't flinch. Not one bit. Though it did aggravate him that Draco still talked about Voldemort as if the man was some sort of great king. Voldemort had never been a king. Not in Harry's mind, anyway. Voldemort had been nothing more than a virus. A ruthless murderer who finally met a sticky end. A person who put so much bad karma out into the world that it finally caught up with him and he couldn't deal with it. He had to wonder though if Voldemort had ever felt any remorse over the years. If Voldemort was ever truly sorry for any of the things he'd done. Probably not.
"I don't believe it." Harry said, forcing himself to speak calmly as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down a bit. "I don't believe it and yet in some ways I do believe it." Licking his lips once more, Harry slowly turned around to face Draco, looking Draco square in the eyes again. Harry was going to be honest with Draco. He'd tell Draco the savagely blunt truth if that's what it took. He couldn't sugar coat things or gloss over the horrible pieces of it. "And stop calling him the Dark Lord." Harry said, jaw set. "Voldemort's dead. The Prophecy in the Ministry that the Ministry had written about in the paper said I had to be the one to kill him. But someone else killed Voldemort first. He's dead, and my parents are dead. So stop talking about him like he was some sort of king. Voldemort was a man just like any other man. He was an insane, murderous psychopath that everyone is better off without." Yes, Harry was still speaking in a firm and authorative voice. Very adult and roguish of him. Don't you think? "It's because of him that everyones life is a living hell in one way or another. So, let's drop the subject now. I don't want to hear or talk about him any more. Understood?" Harry said, staring unblinkingly into Draco's eyes. He didn't care what Draco said now. Though a possibility did occur to him.
"Yes, I needed saved." Harry said, having heard every word that came from Draco's mouth about everything. "But nobody saved me, did they?" Harry said, walking toward Draco again. Coming to stand a few iches before Draco, Harry looked down at Draco, slowly raising his hands and placing them on Draco's shoulders. "I had to save myself. I didn't know you'd been raped. And if you never told anyone, how could you expect anyone to know?" Harry asked. "You say you were raped and you say you can't remember the mans name. Has it ever occurred to you that Voldemort might have given the man permission to rape you? That Voldemort and your father might have allowed it to happen in the hopes that they could break you? In the hopes that if they broke your spirit and took away your innocence that you'd be more obedient and not question them?" Harry asked, bringing up what could quite possibly be the actual truth. "If you don't know who raped you, you probably didn't even see their face. So it could have been anyone. Snape, your father, anyone..." Sighing inwardly, tears tugging at his eyes again, Harry forced them back. He was the one that always had to be stronger than the other person. He'd learned that early in life. Emotionally and mentally strong. So as it was then so it was now. Looking into Draco's eyes again, Harry didn't know what Draco wanted him to do or expected him to do. Harry had a lot of mixed feelings right now. Mixed feelings and millions of questions with no answers.
Instead of pushing Draco away this time. Instead of trapping Draco against the wall, Harry did something even he didn't expect himself to do. He wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling the blonde into a gentle, yet protective hug. When he did so, he placed his lips next to Draco's right ear. His breath warm and soft. He didn't have any words, just the hug. And as he held Draco close, gently yet exquisitely close, he allowed a single tear to escape his right eye. The tear sliding out of his eyes, rolling down his cheek, and falling onto Draco's shirt. "I'm sorry.." he whispered, lips close to Draco's ear. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
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