BAINBRYDGE, dallas nathaniel [wip]

[DALLAS NATHANIEL BAINBRYDGE]

DALLAS NATHANIEL BAINBRYDGE

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i'm wrecking this evening already and,
loving every minute of it. [/center]
THE BASICS*[/font]

FULL NAME: dallas nathaniel bainbrydge.
NICKNAMES?: you might be able to get away with dally... if you're out of earshot.
GENDER: xy.
AGE: seventeen.
BIRTHDAY: october twentieth.
YEAR: seventh.
SEXUALITY: heterosexual.
HOUSE: slytherin.
BLOOD PURITY: half-blood.
CANON?: nnnooo.

APPEARANCE*[/font]

HAIR: Dallas' keeps his hair cropped short in a messy, ruffled style that speaks quite accurately of his ragged personality. It's hued a dirty, sandy blond blended with varying darker and lighter shades. An average color; it's nothing special, nothing that makes him stand out or look very handsome, but it suits him well enough and he has little desire of changing it. Prickly stubble of the same color roughens the line of his jaw.
EYES: Dally's eyes are a dirty gray-brown not unlike his hair, but colored with warmer veins of dark honey around the outer edge of the iris. Towards the center, the color gradually darkens and also grays slightly. Although a rather dull, uninteresting color, they have no problem holding the gazes of those he should lock eyes with. Frequently they flash with arrogance or even caustic humor. Really, he's no intriguing emotional mystery; deciphering his mood is as simple as looking him in the eyes, as intimidating as his wolfish glare might be.
BUILD: Long-bodied and lean, Dallas has a fair amount of muscle on him. His lanky form is rigid and taut with strength, but not very supple. You might as well consider him about as flexible as a table, really, which is fine for him; he was never the gymnastic type anyway. Regrettably, speed is also not his forte, due to his rather un-aerodynamic shape.
PLAY-BY: jensen ackles.

PREFERENCES*[/b][/color][/font]

LIKES:

DISLIKES:

PERSONALITY*[/b][/color][/font]

PATRONUS: spanish bull.
WAND: twelve and a half inches, ash, sturdy, core of dragon heartstring.
MIRROR OF ERISED:
BOGGART: a wall of blinding darkness enveloping him.
AMORTENSIA: car exhaust, burning wood, coffee.
VERITASERUM: "y'know, i fucking hate slytherin. the sorting hat originally wanted to put me in ravenclaw... don't tell anyone. i'll kick your ass."
DEMENTOR: hears his father voicing his disappointments in him.
ANYTHING ELSE?:

In more ways than he cares for, Dallas is very much your standard, stereotypical Slytherin. For one, he's cunningly ruthless when it comes to getting what he wants or where he wants to be, especially when his intense curiosity is piqued. Should something catch his attention, he will stop at nothing to satisfy his own desire for this elusive knowledge. This unerring determination, however, fades drastically when it comes to less entertaining tasks that are sent his way. As such, homework or assignments that he deems "boring" or "useless", typically are not completed, which never fails to earn him a fair amount of punishment. However, being something of a nerd, he rarely turns his nose up at the opportunity to broaden his mental horizons. He wants to know a lot about a lot, and therefore often finds himself mindlessly studying books to feed his mind's perpetual hunger, but also because he fears ignorance. He hates lack of understanding, especially in whatever situation he gets himself into, hence his dislike of being blinded or in the dark. He likes to be aware at all times, and darkness severely limits what he can be aware of. It's not necessarily the darkness itself that Dallas fears, it's what it does that he finds deeply unsettling. What he cannot see he cannot prepare for or fight against, and that scares him. He is loathe to admit it, though, even to himself, for he thinks it quite embarrassing.

Dallas generally resists doing anything he hadn't already decided to do himself, and does not appreciate others trying to throw their weight around or give him orders. Dallas is highly confrontational; he won't hesitate to either challenge what you have to say or downright refuse to do something. Dallas has no qualms with throwing a punch to get his point across, but does favor verbal battles to physical ones. He's also not easily convinced to do anything that doesn't hold some direct benefit for himself, being the rather selfish creature that he is. He usually prefers irritating others as opposed to giving them a reason to like him. Dallas loves to rub people the wrong way, to irritate them, to watch them squirm uncomfortably. It's just... incredibly mentally satisfying, to watch the emotions play over their face as the situation turns and twists. Over time, he's developed the most delightful disregard for personal boundaries that allows him to overlook the fact that maybe slapping someone on the ass might be considered inappropriate, and still do it anyway. Anything to get a good, entertaining response. Anything.

Beyond that, Dallas doesn't particularly enjoy the company of people. When he doesn't find them amusing, he finds them annoying or idiotic instead. He does, however, hold a certain amount of tolerance for those who can either knock him on his ass, hold his interest or match his tongue.

HISTORY*[/b][/color][/font]

FAMILY:

PET: none.
A BRIEF HISTORY?:

YEAH I'LL GET TO THIS. <3 lu.

WRITING SAMPLE*[/b][/font]

GO FOR IT: YO this is from another site<3

As his mind slowly began to register the pain from his lacerations, Dominick finally became aware of other sensations on his body. His chin, for example, was trapped by Fen's cool grip so that she could get a better look at her handiwork. With a jolt, he realized the gentle pressure on his arm that he found oddly soothing was her opposite hand. His skin began to prickle with icy flames, the cold fire licking its way from his chin down to his arm, and then down the whole side of his body when he noticed Fen kept her entire being very close. She appeared to be melting into his shape, and he noticed that she seemed to realize their bodies' proximity with a furious blush that colored her cheeks. Had Dominick been back in L.A., stoned out of his mind, with a couple of his buddies and the street broads they'd bought for the night, he wouldn't have felt like this was such a big deal.

But now it was. This suddenly was a big deal, because he barely knew this woman and she'd already torn his shoulder, busted open his head, and made him shiver delightfully as she nursed his wounds. Ugh, no! Not delightfully... Dominick was determined not to connect anything that Fen made him feel with "delightful", or any other positive word for that matter. Unfortunately, his brain seemed to have other ideas as it interpreted the electric touches that their skin shared. His flesh sparked with a strange electricity under her blood-coated fingers, as well as the dry ones on his arm. For some reason, he couldn't think beyond that reassuring grip on his forearm, and the cool smoothness of her hand on his suddenly hypersensitive flesh. His mind dimly noted her quickened breathing and her almost panicked energy, despite her rigid form's thawing into his heat.

Dom had the most inexplicable need to brush a strand of tawny hair behind her ear. It bothered him, that rogue strand of brown hair, blocking his view of a most concentrated hazel eye. For now, though, he would have to settle with staring at this criminal lock of hair and imagining his actions. His thoughts shocked the hell out of him. It's not that he felt awkward of such affectionate actions, because it wasn't like he was any novice to them, because him and his buds had seen plenty girls in L.A., touched plenty of them. That wasn't it. It was the fact that he even gave two shits about this bitch, this bitch that smashed his face open and painted half of his face with his own blood, that just about had him scooting on his ass for the frustration. He didn't realize it at the time, but Dominick was issuing a soft rumble from his chest at his irritating thoughts. One might relate the sound coming from such a broad chest to a massive, bloodied lion purring.

Dom was shaken from his thoughtful stupor by a quick shaking of Fen's head. Was she indicating him? No, it didn't look like that... heh, looked like she was having an internal battle with herself just as he was. Cold water poured down his back at the strange smile that twisted her lips. God, that was fucking creepy. She looked like she was debating causing him more pain, though he doubted that was her actual line of thought... but what if it was? A slow shudder crawled down his spine like a great spider. Who knew what this bitch was thinking? She seemed about as mentally predictable as sixteen year-old girl with ADHD and twelve kinds of personality disorders.

At his words about his hoodie, Fen drew back from his face, releasing it. He felt strangely cold from the lack of her skin contacting with his. The low temperature quickly burst into flames of outrage at her reply. “Well seeing as you left it with me; I believe I have a rightful claim to it.” she snapped at him angrily. The words were stamped into his head, his indignant, bleeding head. He'd given her his damn hoodie because she had been ass-naked! She was lucky he didn't run off while he fetched it for her! She had no right to it, what bullshit had she been sniffing lately?! A low "Also," issued from her lips alerted him that she wasn't finished with her bitchiness just yet. She peered around his uninjured side, looking for something. Glass, maybe. He opened his mouth to say saying something to her fucking dumb logic and --

Her hand cracked across his face.

The words were slapped clean out of his mouth, leaving him speechless. The sheer force of her blow cocked his head at an angle down and away from her. His dark bangs shielded his eyes, shadowing his face and giving him a beaten dog appearance. For the first time that day, Dominick had nothing to say. His thoughts, however, boiled and screamed and kicked the walls of his brain. Rage singed every inch of his body, incinerating the pain of his ribboned cheek and giving way to a totally new kind of pain. One he wasn't used to experiencing, one he couldn't quite put his finger on. He'd never let himself get slapped by a woman before. He had slapped the sluts that his buddies liked to hand with when they got too shitty with him, but they hadn't dared retaliate because of the guys he was connected with. He'd never been slapped, except by his mother when he got to cheeky with her, but even then that had been merely a harsh knock upside the back of his head. Dominick's face stayed in that same angle that it had been slapped in, his jaw slack, breathing hard, fists clenched his lap.

“That was for calling me a whore. Call me bitch, call me Fen, but not whore or slut.”

Her words humiliated him. The situation humiliated him. Here he was for the second time, bleeding and torn and pissed off, while she was unharmed. Would things follow this suit every time they met? Injury to Dom, Fen gets mad and slaps him? Dominick refused to look at her, still utterly mortified by the events that ensued after his crass comment he'd spat only a minute ago. He felt like a nine-year-old boy, back in the golden state, smack-talking his mom and getting the shit whooped out of him for it. He was scolded by his momma, to put it lightly, and now he was being scolded by this woman whom he barely knew... and yet he took it without saying a word. Had this been any other nasty bitch, let it be a hooker from L.A. or another hybrid from this shithole known as Colorado, he wouldn't have hesitated in bounding back with a much more powerful slap of his own. He was not a little boy, he would hit girls. He was no gentleman, he would hit women. But for the moment, he was astonishingly docile. The seething man made no movement as Fenrryn turned her back on him to fetch more medical supplies.

It was silent, painfully so, in the large kitchen. He'd been in the middle of awkward silences before, but this was a strikingly difference silence. It was tense and dramatic, and for Dominick, it was the loudest silence he'd ever heard. The sharp crack of her hand still resounded in his mind. Dominick calmed down slightly, his tremors of rage subsiding ever so slightly. He was tempted to call her a nasty whore again, just to see what she'd do, but he didn't want to be slapped again. If she hit him one more time he'd lose it to his wolven temper for sure, and he would regret that far more than anything he'd ever said to Fen that referred to her as a crude name. He did speak, however, but without moving it so much as an inch from where she had smacked it.

"Fine," he murmured, his comment shockingly devoid of dirty language. There was still a harsh underlying tone of anger, but at least it was a somewhat neutral response. He offered no apology, no swears, and no glance. He waited in his own cooling blood, lathered with sweat, perfectly silent for once to hear her reply.

OOC*[/b][/font]

NAME: Alu <3
EXPERIENCE: Something like five-six years.
TIME ZONE: Central.
CONTACT: YO JUST THROW ME A PM OR CATCH ME WHEN I'M ON. You can try emailing me, but I don't check my inbox that often.
FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ICE CREAM: I... don't like ice cream ;3;

this is croaky’s form, made for AYR? don’t steal kthxbai