Post by dominic on Mar 24, 2011 22:21:28 GMT -5
TWENTY FIVE. LOCALS. POMOSEXUAL. DRUGGIE. JARED LETO.
( DOMINIC RIDGE MONROE )
I SEE YOUR EYES, YOU'RE BARELY SOBER.
I HEAR YOUR VOICE, YOU'RE CALLING OUT FROM ME TO YOU.
the character
I HEAR YOUR VOICE, YOU'RE CALLING OUT FROM ME TO YOU.
the character
RAISED in deerwood, minnesota where the population was less than a thousand, nico was an only child to a strict household. his step-father was a military man who made sure to keep young nico in line. however, with all of this pressure to be a good student, nico began to crumble. he couldn't keep up with the constant flow of his step-fathers fluctuation in mood and he wasn't about to stick around and put up with it longer than necessary. once he had graduated, nico had made a run for the west in hopes of freeing himself from his step-father's reign and getting a chance to start his own life. of course, he wasn't sure what was held fro him once he made it to california. the pace of life was quick, the population thick, and so many temptations, his step-father would have had a heart attack. it didn't take long for nico to fall in with the wrong people, running in on the drug trade and getting himself hooked faster than he can name all the kids in his graduating class (all sixty two of them.)
BEFORE his step-father was even an issue, it was just him and his mother. however, life wasn't an easier for nico then. she was also strict, and not exactly the most friendly of women. quite the opposite, actually. she liked to toy with nico, no matter how small the game was or how much she protested. to this day, he still can't get over the mental distress she caused him growing up. sure, she's his mother and he's supposed to love her, but he wishes the dumb bitch the worst. his father, his biological father, had skipped out on him and his mother before he was even born, having run off when he found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. now, nico wasn't born in deerwood. he was actually born in minneapolis, minnesota where his mom was, quite honestly, the biggest whore in town. at least she got paid for it.
NOW that he lives here in california with a drug habit a mile and half long and his own business derived from it, he's doing well for himself. all he can do is hope that the drugs won't kill him because there is no chance in hell that he is going to quick now. so yes, this is nico monroe. you're friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. he doesn't bite - hard - and he's pretty comical when he's high - which is always - but don't catch him when he's detoxing. he's liable to kill.
SO SAY THAT YOU JUST WANT TO RUN AWAY.
AND REPLAY ALL THE THINGS THAT I TRIED TO SAY.
behind the character
AND REPLAY ALL THE THINGS THAT I TRIED TO SAY.
behind the character
[/b][/color]hey bitches, it's skye and i've been pimpin' these hoes for about six years. i know right, it's great isn't it? need to get a hold of me? hit me up by PM or MSN (ordinary.spy.machine@hotmail.com). i'm also in the pacific time zone just so you know. don't need to be telling you people twice. also meet the rest of my lovely babies, the ones that are nonexistent!
Damon wasn’t interested in the kids that were trying to speak with him at the moment. No, he was never really interested in the kids that were trying to speak with him. More often than not, he was given idiotic questions that he had answered a million times. Honestly, if you’re going to take Calculus as a Junior, be prepared for the shit that’s to come. It’s an advanced class and Damon holds the right to call out any stupid question you may have. Especially if he’s already answered it three times that day. It’s amazing how irritated he can get by a simple question, but really, he gets irritated by anyone who likes to show him their stupidity.
Sighing heavily, he sat back in his seat as the students worked out of their books. The day was almost over, but it was a long one, nonetheless. That and he had one more class after this and a meeting after school. His head was about to explode. Rubbing his temples with his middle and forefinger, he took deep breaths and closed his eyes, wishing the headache that was starting to surface would disappear before it could show up. He inwardly sighed as he heard someone clear their throat in the front of his desk. Slowly opening his eyes, he made eye contact with the male student in front of him and attempted to smile, even though he knew that it had come out as much more of a grimace than anything. He knew this kid. He knew him well. David. Damon understood this kids problems without actually having to know what they are. He’d been there many times and it was… Not pleasant. Somewhere inside of him, he pitied the kid. However, he didn’t pity him enough to actually say that out loud. Or show it.
Dropping his hands onto the desk and leaning forward, he gave the teen and inquisitive brow and looked him square in the eye. “Yes?" He asked and listened carefully as the younger male began to speak. “Mr. Osman… Can I… Ask you something?” Damon’s ears perked at this and he leans forward slightly, hoping that the other students were keeping their attention on their work, or their friends. “Anything,” he said softly and his expression changed from that of annoyance to that of acceptance. He watched as the boy bit his lip and looked down at his hands that were fiddling at his waist line. “I have a problem, Mr. Osman… I need someone who can help me.” Damon nodded slowly and glanced up at the class. “Would you like to talk about this another time? Or out in the hall, maybe?” he asked his student and quickly stood from his seat when the teen nodded and answer with the later. Nodding toward the hallway, he disappeared out the door, waiting for David to exit with him before closing the door. “What’s your problem?” he asked softly and leaned against the wall near his student. “My friend… got me to try this stuff and I think… I’m addicted and I just, shit. Oh! Sorry, Mr. Osman. I’m just-“ Damon held his hand up and shook his head slowly. “I don’t care if you curse. So.. what you’re saying is you need someone to get you drug help?” He watched as the boy nodded and Damon smiled slightly. “I can help you. Can you stay after school?” Again, he nodded.
As the day wore to a close, Damon called in and excused himself from the meeting, saying he had student business to care for and that he’ll catch up on the workings of the meeting later. Hanging up the phone, he looked up to see David lingering in the hallway. Giving him a gentle smile, he stood from his desk and grabbed his coat. “I believe Mr. Pollack is on campus today, so we don’t have to go anywhere.” Damon said as he pulled his jacket on and grabbed his keys, pushing in his desk chair and walking toward the door, he closed and locked it as they both exited. Walking down the hall in a comfortable silence – or what was comfortable to Damon – he watched out of the corner of his eye as David continued to fidget. Letting it go, he pushed open a large, brown door and stepped inside, holding it open for David and quickly looking around for the familiar – probably way too familiar – face of Bridger Pollack. Biting his lip and looking over at the man he was looking for, he took a deep breath and regained his barely lost composure. “Bridger,” he called softly, barely loud enough to hear. “May I speak with you?”
Sighing heavily, he sat back in his seat as the students worked out of their books. The day was almost over, but it was a long one, nonetheless. That and he had one more class after this and a meeting after school. His head was about to explode. Rubbing his temples with his middle and forefinger, he took deep breaths and closed his eyes, wishing the headache that was starting to surface would disappear before it could show up. He inwardly sighed as he heard someone clear their throat in the front of his desk. Slowly opening his eyes, he made eye contact with the male student in front of him and attempted to smile, even though he knew that it had come out as much more of a grimace than anything. He knew this kid. He knew him well. David. Damon understood this kids problems without actually having to know what they are. He’d been there many times and it was… Not pleasant. Somewhere inside of him, he pitied the kid. However, he didn’t pity him enough to actually say that out loud. Or show it.
Dropping his hands onto the desk and leaning forward, he gave the teen and inquisitive brow and looked him square in the eye. “Yes?" He asked and listened carefully as the younger male began to speak. “Mr. Osman… Can I… Ask you something?” Damon’s ears perked at this and he leans forward slightly, hoping that the other students were keeping their attention on their work, or their friends. “Anything,” he said softly and his expression changed from that of annoyance to that of acceptance. He watched as the boy bit his lip and looked down at his hands that were fiddling at his waist line. “I have a problem, Mr. Osman… I need someone who can help me.” Damon nodded slowly and glanced up at the class. “Would you like to talk about this another time? Or out in the hall, maybe?” he asked his student and quickly stood from his seat when the teen nodded and answer with the later. Nodding toward the hallway, he disappeared out the door, waiting for David to exit with him before closing the door. “What’s your problem?” he asked softly and leaned against the wall near his student. “My friend… got me to try this stuff and I think… I’m addicted and I just, shit. Oh! Sorry, Mr. Osman. I’m just-“ Damon held his hand up and shook his head slowly. “I don’t care if you curse. So.. what you’re saying is you need someone to get you drug help?” He watched as the boy nodded and Damon smiled slightly. “I can help you. Can you stay after school?” Again, he nodded.
As the day wore to a close, Damon called in and excused himself from the meeting, saying he had student business to care for and that he’ll catch up on the workings of the meeting later. Hanging up the phone, he looked up to see David lingering in the hallway. Giving him a gentle smile, he stood from his desk and grabbed his coat. “I believe Mr. Pollack is on campus today, so we don’t have to go anywhere.” Damon said as he pulled his jacket on and grabbed his keys, pushing in his desk chair and walking toward the door, he closed and locked it as they both exited. Walking down the hall in a comfortable silence – or what was comfortable to Damon – he watched out of the corner of his eye as David continued to fidget. Letting it go, he pushed open a large, brown door and stepped inside, holding it open for David and quickly looking around for the familiar – probably way too familiar – face of Bridger Pollack. Biting his lip and looking over at the man he was looking for, he took a deep breath and regained his barely lost composure. “Bridger,” he called softly, barely loud enough to hear. “May I speak with you?”
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