anunit: Sin
anunit: let's go on a crime spree.
innerharuspicy: I don't need you for that
anunit: yes, but it's more fun that way
innerharuspicy: Fine. I pull the heists.
anunit: I do the cons :3
innerharuspicy: You get girls to sex me after.
anunit: fffhahaha
innerharuspicy: What? XD
innerharuspicy: It's a good plan
innerharuspicy: I will toss you a bone on occasion
innerharuspicy: because I'm nice like that
innerharuspicy: wow
anunit: 'toss me a bone'
anunit: ffhahahahahaha
innerharuspicy: I just redefined "Toss you a bone"
anunit: you REALLY did
innerharuspicy: I'm the shit
anunit: I can get my own girls, honey
innerharuspicy: This is going on my LJ

Player Name (or nickname): Bruce Wayne

Character Name(full): Bruce Wayne

Nickname (what they like to be called): None

Fandom (series of origin): Batman

Age: 16

Sexual Preference: Straight

Grade level or staff position: 10th

GPA (if applicable): 4.6

Description of original canon, or link to wiki/other source: DC Wiki

Short Bio: Bruce, son of Thomas and Martha as well as heir to the Wayne fortune, was born April 17th of 1990 in Chicago, Illinois. From birth to the age of eight, he was raised on the spaciousness of Wayne Manor, on the immensity and scope of the penthouses of those skyrises under the ownership of Wayne Industries, and on the distanced affection of philanthropist parents. Dr. Thomas Wayne played both the sternest and most admired role in young Bruce’s life, forever pushing him to succeed. Urging him to be the best person possible, perhaps in a harsher way than Bruce was prepared to handle. Life had had a habit of being that way for Bruce; always harder than he’d been prepared to handle. In his youth, two profound events moved to the forefront of all his life-shaping experiences.

The first one took place when Bruce fell through a hole into an underground cave system on the ancestral Wayne Estate, wherein he was terrorized by a colony of bats. That experience would leave a profound impression on him, terrorizing him with visions of bats, one large on in particular, for years to come.

The second occurred when, frightened, Bruce pleaded with his parents to leave early from a showing of “The Mask of Zorro”. It was in a back alley that a mugger, later caught and identified as Joe Chill, shot and killed Bruce’s parents in a struggle, right before his eyes.

Young Master Wayne was left in the care of Thomas’s brother, Phillip Wayne; the majority of the parenting done after that point was done on the part of the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth (a trained servant hired away from the British Royal Family), though. In the days following the murder, Bruce was inconsolable and despaired to the point of running away from home to his parents’ grave, where he swore to avenge his them against the criminal underworld that bred their murderer.

At twelve, his uncle decided it best to send the boy abroad, to boarding schools, where he could attain a higher education just as his parents would have wished for him. He studied wherever he wished, with little resistance from Phillip, mostly in European and Asian schools where he hoped to hone his skills in the fields of chemistry, history, forensics, and criminology.

Outside of academia, Bruce ardently practiced gymnastics and various forms of the martial arts, some learned during his school stays*. Others were learned on the “vacations” (also allowed, though hesitantly, by Phillip in the hopes of appeasing the troubled heir, he would take in between**. While his stays were only long enough to pick up basic concepts and form, he continued to put his studies into practice.

This went on until the age of sixteen when, midway through his tenth grade year, Phillip summoned the boy home under pressure of the media. Bruce returned to Chicago depicted as both a shame to the family name for having disappeared and as a pride and legacy of the Wayne family, a prodigal son returning to restore honor to the name attached to the money machine that Wayne Industries had become. He remained home, in Chicago, for a total of four months before deciding, for his own health, to leave again but promising his lifelong friend and mentor, Alfred, that he would remain within the United States for a number of reasons, one of which was to relieve pressure on the company from the press and offer some semblance of moral integrity that perhaps might be held to.

Papers nationwide noted the second, more public, departure of the Wayne Heir to study in Pennsylvania where he is speculated to graduate early in order to attend one of the many New England Ivy League colleges. No Pittsburgh high school will be seeing ‘Wayne’ added to the attendance, though. There’s a small town, more suited to Bruce’s fondness for privacy, called Middle Area where he hopes to settle.


*Aikido and Jujitsu in Japan, Systema by a Russian school instructor in England, Muay Thai and Kung Fu in China

**Hunting technique while on safari by African Bushmen, healing arts by Nepalese monks, meditation and force of will by Shaolin priests, and the ways of ninjitsu and disguise by a temporary but still-contacted mentor, Ra’s Al Ghul.


Appearance (and/or attach a photo to the email):

Player Contact (email or AIM): AIM - Innerharuspicy

Sample narrative rp (a short, third person narrative scene): It’s a labyrinth. Every hall turns into another one, longer than the last and more foreign. Every step erases the one before it so that the further into it he goes, the more lost he feels. That’s how it works, though. For him. Ten years since he took the first step, but walking in circles can make you feel lost too, even if the person you’re lost with knows exactly where they are.

“Are you quite sure this is your wish, Master Bruce?”

“Yes, Alfred.” Pennyworths and Waynes. They’re both a part of this place; part enough for the first to know he wants to sever the phantom limb and the second to want to preserve it. Most people would say it’s odd for someone so young to have such a grave, disciplined air, but most people don’t get a look at that face. Lucky Alfred.

“I feel--” He tenses his hands at the corners of the plain white sheet he’s pulled out from under bed at the butler’s request. A contemplative expression is fixed more in his eyes than on his face and all at once scared away by the growl of a clearing throat. “—in the dark here. In this place.” Satisfied with the straightening he’s done to the dog-eared corners of the material, he pushes the square into Alfred’s hands.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe it’s up to you to turn on the light.”



Sample Character Journal Entry (short, first person entry the character would make in their journal):

This house is little more than a mess of dust and dreary memories now. I know Alfred feels obligated to serve our family, but he’s more tied to this place than what remains of it is. I wish more than anything not to have to stay here. My father’s name is everywhere I don’t want to see it. On the bulldozers tearing down Cabrini-Green. Cut into the smog hovering around the metal skyline that the factories pump out night and day. On statues downtown that are spray-painted over by rival factions. I’m angry and I hate feeling that way. More than that, I feel helpless because it’s all out of my hands. My name doesn’t even belong to me and I’m the “Wayne Heir”. It belongs to the chairmen and big wigs at the top of that building everyone knows because every night at seven o’clock sharp it blocks out the sun. I think I’d give all of it up to be able to start over with a new name, but rhetoric isn’t enough right now and it’s all that I have besides fistfuls of dollars.

I have a promise to keep and neither of those are going to help me keep it.

First YOU. You know who you are. Our talk got me thinking a little. I don't want you to think of me that way. It may all be true, but I still don't want it to be the way you see me. I /do/ wish I could change it, if that's any consolation.

Now YOU. You know who you are too. You were SORT of right when you say people could give a shit less about you, but not in the way you think. I can only really speak for myself when I say this, but I sort of get the impression that you're just not interested, and I don't know how to react to that really. I'm not going to force myself on you if I think you don't want me around. If it helps any, I've given up wanting or trying to be your favorite anymore. That spot's taken care of. I just want you to...you know...be around.

RAR. NOT ANGSTY, just sort of...I don't know. Tired? I fail at the wordthings.

innerharuspicy: my priorites are as follows:
innerharuspicy: 1) keep my friends happy
innerharuspicy: 2) eat
innerharuspicy: 3) do not be depressed
innerharuspicy: 4) sex
innerharuspicy: 2 and 4 are interchangable, though
anunit: hahah.
innerharuspicy: and I cannot help that 4 and 1 sometimes coincide
anunit: it is a burden you must bear.
innerharuspicy: dirty job
innerharuspicy: but someone has to do it
innerharuspicy: like ghostbusting
innerharuspicy: except with hip motions
anunit: hahah
anunit: some ghostbusting might involve that.
anunit: you never know.
innerharuspicy: that crosses the line into necrophilia
innerharuspicy: or...ectoplasmiphilia
anunit: oh, shit
anunit: I think we just made a new fetish
innerharuspicy: SWEET
innerharuspicy: We fucking RULE
innerharuspicy: I'm putting this in my journal
anunit: watch 5000 new fetish sites spring up in the next five seconds
innerharuspicy: so you know

Ummm. So, normal journal entry. I really think I want to start school again in the fall, so if I suddenly get rly busy or disappear, it's probably because I've stopped procrastinating and started my applying. Until then I'll do the work thing.

Also, I think I may go back to playing the guitar, this way I can start a band and become famous and TOTALLY throw it in Dele's face for waking me up like that.

Keep in mind, there was like ten minutes of silence on both sides before this event occurred:

innerharuspicy: I think I'll do the sleep thing now
anunit: yes, VH1, I really want a CD called "Monster Booty"

Dear Diary,

I think I have a crush-crush on Kay and Dele. They looked at me today and my stomach felt all fluttery. I want to talk to them, but every time I even think about it, my mouth gets dry and I don't know what to say.

I hope something good happens.

Sin

I know I should've read this forever ago, but late is better than never.( Anyway... )

ALSO, on a less philosophical note, I am totally thinking about going to see Zach Galifianakis. Here is a video of him being fucking hysterical.


( MOAR ZACH )

Alright. So, sort of starting over and I think the best way to go about it is to start from the ground up. A few people have told me now that I should seriously work an LJ for a lot of reasons, most of them having to do with the fact that it's an outlet that is NOT destructive. :3 I have no idea what that is.

I'll try to post frequently, even if it's just to throw up the stupid shit I see or do on the daily basis.