Post by SOREN SOMERSETT on Aug 18, 2012 12:06:13 GMT -5
...Soren Skyler Somersett*
*”Jesus fuck. I said ‘don’t go in the West Wing’, you little shit.” *
[/size]*”Jesus fuck. I said ‘don’t go in the West Wing’, you little shit.” *
...basics*
name Soren Somersett
nickname He’ll show you a fucking nickname.
age 21
gender Male
grade Barrie University Junior
hometown Your mom’s his fucking hometown. (Grandin, Florida)
sexuality Straight as a fucking arrow, and not one of those pussy-ass plastic arrows, either. A real arrow.
personification The Beast
status Dormant
face claim Cristiano Ronaldo
...appearance*
hair color Dark Brown
eye color Brown
build Burly and muscular
height 6’ 1”
clothing style Jeans with a soccer t-shirt of some kind. He’s got ‘em all. Seven Real Madrid, six Chelsea, two Arsenal, and this one Japan one that some kid gave him once, though you’d catch him sucking his English teacher’s cock before he ever wore it in public. Oh, and he has this one Barcelona thing that he drew dicks all over and wears on the day of every UEFA Championship because Barcelona sucks. Also, his English teacher is a dude.
distinctive traits Your mom’s his distinctive trait.
...personal*
personality With his tall, lanky stature and bulging chest, Soren Somersett is an athlete by nature. Almost as long as he has been able to think coherently, he has known that he wants to play soccer. His interactions with his friends consist almost exclusively of the previous night’s soccer scores, analysis of each player’s and team’s statistics (which he can rattle off without a second thought, from career scoring averages to franchise records). He plays for two premier soccer teams in addition to the school’s varsity team (of which he’s been MVP for the past three years), and can never be found without a soccer ball within inches of his feet. Through class, band, lunch periods, and whatever sport he happens to be playing, he feels incomplete without a ball to maneuver in intricate patterns between his legs. Soccer is his ambition, his identity, his pride and joy.
Off the soccer field, Soren is a snide, sarcastic fellow. As a child he was consistently insolent, and having mastered the art of sarcasm at a much earlier age than his peers, was frequently punished for proclaiming insults towards students and teachers alike in a loud and raucous manner. At sixteen Harry has managed to refine the obstinacy into a more passive-aggressive demeanor. His signature behavior is under-the-breath imitations of teachers and students after they have spoken, adding his personal ornamentations, as it were, to twist even the most innocent of phrases into chasms of unspeakable perversion. When not in conversation with his soccer team or other, close but inconsequential friends, his words are almost exclusively veiled mockery and/or innuendo, his every word dripping with subtle sarcasm.
Soren belittles his superiors so frequently that other students often question his consistently above-average grades. But his teachers’ records show that he has handed in every paper and homework assignment to date, though in the interests of his reputation he often does this in a surreptitious manner, slipping packets onto a teacher’s desk or inbox when no one is looking. As a person Soren is more intellectual than he lets on to his excessively masculine soccer-jock group of friends; he can obliterate any riddle or puzzle in seconds, though he may not be able to resist throwing in an inordinately sexual reference. In addition he’s fascinated by languages; he is fluent in English (which he detests speaking) and Spanish (which he speaks at home and wherever else possible), and is a German major at Barrie, but any Nazi jokes and he’ll smack you in the balls with a lampshade. He’s been playing and composing on the piano since before he can remember, though he’s never played for anyone and doesn’t plan to do so in the near future. He also plays the trumpet in the Baum Academy Band, and though he could be a fantastic player if he applied himself to practicing and playing, improvising suits him just fine. He spends his spare time devouring every book he can get his hands on, from Jane Austen to Shakespeare to Stephen King to…ahem…definitely not that Twilight vampire book, you little lying fuckers. Once again, however, he’d probably rather have his soccer posse catch him playing Women’s Volleyball than reading a book. He also has an odd knack for remembering long, random sequences of numbers (say, soccer statistics) and letters; his iTunes password is 239k4ILS9403w4, his Facebook password 34903450IIE4583L349NMw. But don’t tell anyone or he’ll rape you in your fucking sleep, you little donkey ballsack.
past Soren doesn’t know his Mom. He’s gathered some hasty story about some affair on a cruise ship or some shit, but it’s not something in which he’s ever been interested, or ever cared about, so shut the fuck up before he shoots you in the nuts. His father, Patrick Somersett, is a well-known television actor, and apparently plays some cop in some show that like, every other person in the fucking universe is obsessed with, though Harry doesn’t even know what channel it’s on. However, his fucking glamour gig means that he’s almost always shooting in some studio in California, frolicking with some hot actress chick on some obscure Caribbean island, or doing something else away from the small, inconsequential town of Grandin, Florida. His brother Irving, five years his elder, has always been of the rebel/delinquent walk of life, and has presumably spent all of Soren’s life either guzzling toxic substances behind various gas stations, guzzling toxic substances in dark, smoky rooms surrounded by hungry-looking women, or guzzling toxic substances in a jail cell. The two combined circumstances have left Soren to his own devices throughout his childhood.
Often lonely and bored, Soren was naturally drawn to recreational activities, particularly Grandin’s youth soccer program, probably the only aspect for which the town is moderately well-known. Patrick, happy to keep his son out of the bowels of society that had swallowed his older brother, signed him up without a second thought. Soren played year-round soccer throughout his elementary and middle school years. As he celebrated wins and suffered through losses, he began to see his fellow players as the brothers he’d never had, and while Irving flunked out of public high school and chugged all the alcohol he could get his hands on, Soren and his friends breezed through exams and championships alike.
Likewise, Soren’s coaches became his long-craved parents who, along with providing almost ten years’ worth of soccer instruction, answered the multitude of questions aimed their way during what seemed like every hour of every practice. Even at an early age, Soren stood out from the other boys as someone who craved knowledge and answered. He constantly questioned their authority, sometimes in a rather obtrusive fashion, and though he had not yet acquired the characteristic urge to make each and every comment vulgar and raunchy, the beginnings of his sarcasm and offbeat sense of humor began to shine through.
The end of his senior year of high school was a bittersweet moment for Soren, for though he was happy to be leaving the sleepy, uneventful town of Grandin, he hated the idea of leaving the soccer team he’d become so close to. Even as he selected Barrie University, the university with highest-ranked high school soccer team in the country, and waved goodbye to his fellow teammates and soccer enthusiasts, he felt as if one of his limbs had been wrenched forcefully from his body. Though he is happy among his friends at Barrie, he eagerly awaits Christmas and summer breaks when he can escape the congestion of the city and play soccer in Grandin without a care in the world.
present Soren is relatively popular at Barrie, especially among the girls, namely, ever girl who has ever laid eyes on him. He can never resist flirting with one who makes advances, and as a result, often finds himself in quite intimate relations with girls of whom he can barely remember the names. This doesn’t faze him, however: Soren tends to revolve around his soccer friends, with any and all girls acting as ornamentation to his lifestyle. Soren molds himself to group he needs to impress: he’ll be wholesome and charismatic with the “preps” of the team and dirty up his mouth around the more questionable conglomerate.
It’s well known that Soren excels at everything he does, from straight As to a lead in the school play to winning every award and making every all-star team ever invented for soccer. Combined with his muscles and aesthetically alluring features, this gives him a large factor of intimidation over both the boys and girls of Baum. Therefore, despite his snide persona, Soren manages to “rule the class,” staying on the good side of the important members.
family Dad- Patrick Somersett
Brother- Irving Somersett (27 years old)
likes Soccer
Other sports, to a lesser extent
Music (Piano, and trumpet to a lesser extent)
Books, particularly Jane Austen and, ahem, not Twilight at all.
Cooking
The outdoors
Acting
Languages
History
Foreign Cultures
dislikes Football…so overrated
Flute…like, okay, that is just such a dumb instrument, like why does it even fucking exist?
Being bored
Television
Being hungry
Math
French (for pussies)
other notes Your Mom’s his other note
...literature*
book title Beauty and the Beast
backstory Alright bitches, listen up. So the Beast was a prince who lost his father at a young age, leaving the running and defense of the kingdom to the queen, aka Beastie’s mom. So the queen leaves him in the care of this little evil fairy bitch who really wants his nuts, but he’s all “bitch, you ain’t tappin’ this shit.” So the fairy’s all offended and turns him into a Beast, upon which said Beast goes and lives in a little castle by himself.
He wakes up one morning and finds this merchant dude picking one of his roses, which just does not fly, so naturally, the only fitting punishment for such a theft is death. The merchant argues that he was only picking the rose for his daughter, so the Beast is all “fine bitch, then you can gtfo, but your daughter’s gotta come chill in my castle for the rest of her life ok ok.”
So this Belle bitch shows up at the castle and every night the Beast asks her to marry him, but she’s all “nope”. And one day Belle asks if she can go home and visit her family, and the Beast is all “sure, fine, one week yo”. But her sisters are all jealous of her awesome life at the castle, so they’re all “oh come on, stay an extra day”, and Belle’s like “okay fine man whatever”. But when Belle doesn’t’ come home the Beast gets so sad that he starts to die of a broken heart. When Belle returns to the castle she’s so sad that she starts to cry, and when her tears touch him he becomes a handsome prince. The Beast tells her the whole long story about why he’s a Beast and that he finally broke her curse by finding true love. They get married happily ever after omg good meeting guys.
...roleplayer*i
name Monica
age 17
gender Female
rp experience q3wedilfsjkfp94rseiojtw039er
how you found ouac A little bird told me
rp sample Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala penis
