Post by ash on Jun 6, 2010 23:07:30 GMT -5
ELIJAH JACOB KNIGHT
FULL NAME: Elijah Jacob Knight
NICKNAMES: Eli
AGE: Twenty-Six
PREFERENCE: Straight
HOMETOWN: Cedar Rapids, Iowa
CLASS STATUS: Upper Class
CURRENT STATUS: Single
MEMBER GROUP: Resident
PLAY BY: Ashton Kutcher
FAVORITE FOOD?
Pizza. The meatier and greasier the pizza is, the better. Or, on the polar opposite dessert pizzas. You could live off that stuff.
ARE YOU A VIRGIN?
With a face this good looking, it would be incredibly difficult to stay a virgin.
FAVORITE COLOR?
All shades of blue
HAVE YOU EVER EMBARRASSED YOURSELF?
All the time. I’m willing to embarrass myself if it means making someone smile or cheering someone up. Though usually most of my embarrassments being and end with me being naked.
FAVORITE DRINK?
A good beer. That, and double thick, chocolate, mars bar milkshakes.
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
If not dead, opening my own tattoo parlour. Then shamelessly whoring myself out to the rich and famous and maybe even getting a reality TV Show like LA Ink or whatever.
FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
Time of the year? Easter. I have an incredible sweet tooth, an a childlike love of Easter Eggs. But destination? Japan. It doesn’t get as bizarrely modern as Japan.
WHAT'S ONE THING MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU?
I am actually greatly self-conscious. I am constantly seeking the acknowledgement and approval of those around me, and am willing to do dangerous things to fulfil this desire. That and my parents have completely ostracised me from the family for my choice of lifestyle. Too bad for them, I already have my trust fund.
DO YOU PREFER THE NIGHT OR THE DAY?
The Night. You can completely forget about your life and just enjoy yourself for once.
NAME A FANTASY?
Waking up in Hogwarts. Jokes. Not really.
Ash perched himself on the stool, concentrating hard, steadying his hand as the buzzing needle in his hand met skin, as he slowly began to trace the outline of the tribal design he had on his customer. He looked up for a moment, as he saw his customer grit her teeth. Ash smiled warmly, looking up at the teenage girl that laid down on the seat before him. “It’s alright, it’s starting to look great already.” The girl opened her eyes to meet him and smiled back as Ash continued his work. Being a tattoo parlour, the room had all the telltale obvious signs. Strange, abstract art and paintings covering the walls, there were mirrors around the room, bright lights illuminating his view, and three other, much more intimidating guys covered in tattoos working away. Ash almost seemed out of place. A young, upper-class kid as far as his co-workers were concerned, though they had accepted him as one of their own when he showed them his genuine talent for art and charismatic personality. That, and when he offered to clean and organise the work area for them. Yes, he was a bit of a neat freak.
In the background, “Treat Me Like Your Mother” by The Dead Weather blazed through the speakers. It was Ash’s day to choose the music for the ‘office’ and the rattling, messy, grungy noises of the band greatly appealed to him and was very suitable for the environment. Ash knew better than to bring in one of his more stranger musical tastes to work, and he had been proud to say he had expanded his co-workers musical horizon. Ash continued delicately tracing, focusing on the exact details of his carefully designed tattoo for the young lady. He had gained a small amount of fame for his tattoo designs in this area, as people claimed he had the ability to ‘see into your soul’ and then brand it onto your body. He simply passed this off as his possession of great insight into people, but he enjoyed the mystique that customers chose to believe, so he just went along with it anyway.
He loved his work. He always had a talent for art, but he loved the idea of tattoos. A mark signifying who you were, what kind of person you are - your status, your stories, your life. Every tattoo bore significance and every mark told a tale. Sure, you could argue about slutty women and their tramp stamps, but that held the most obvious truth of them all – it told their story, marked them to the world, albeit in a less than favourable way. This girl had come in and just wanted a tattoo, she had heard about his prowess and asked for a simple tribal design.
“I like it. But what does it mean?” She asked, when he first presented the design. It was a wild, manic combination of tribal marks and dark, fiery colours. Ash smiled as he held up the drawing pad and explained to her the meaning behind it.
“It represents youth. Fire. Passion. The flurry of emotions and the youthful decadence of your life.” Ash’s eyes blazed with passion as he described the meaning of his work. She accepted his explanation, nodding.
“What about you, you don’t seem to have many tattoos.” She said, and Ash nodded.
“I like to keep them concealed.” Ash replied simply.
“Why?”
“Because that’s where their meaning lies. In their concealment and their personal nature. Revealing them would be revealing myself to other people, something which I believe has to be earned.” Ash said, with seriousness, before switching to a playful smile. “Now! Take off your shirt and lie down!”
In the background, “Treat Me Like Your Mother” by The Dead Weather blazed through the speakers. It was Ash’s day to choose the music for the ‘office’ and the rattling, messy, grungy noises of the band greatly appealed to him and was very suitable for the environment. Ash knew better than to bring in one of his more stranger musical tastes to work, and he had been proud to say he had expanded his co-workers musical horizon. Ash continued delicately tracing, focusing on the exact details of his carefully designed tattoo for the young lady. He had gained a small amount of fame for his tattoo designs in this area, as people claimed he had the ability to ‘see into your soul’ and then brand it onto your body. He simply passed this off as his possession of great insight into people, but he enjoyed the mystique that customers chose to believe, so he just went along with it anyway.
He loved his work. He always had a talent for art, but he loved the idea of tattoos. A mark signifying who you were, what kind of person you are - your status, your stories, your life. Every tattoo bore significance and every mark told a tale. Sure, you could argue about slutty women and their tramp stamps, but that held the most obvious truth of them all – it told their story, marked them to the world, albeit in a less than favourable way. This girl had come in and just wanted a tattoo, she had heard about his prowess and asked for a simple tribal design.
“I like it. But what does it mean?” She asked, when he first presented the design. It was a wild, manic combination of tribal marks and dark, fiery colours. Ash smiled as he held up the drawing pad and explained to her the meaning behind it.
“It represents youth. Fire. Passion. The flurry of emotions and the youthful decadence of your life.” Ash’s eyes blazed with passion as he described the meaning of his work. She accepted his explanation, nodding.
“What about you, you don’t seem to have many tattoos.” She said, and Ash nodded.
“I like to keep them concealed.” Ash replied simply.
“Why?”
“Because that’s where their meaning lies. In their concealment and their personal nature. Revealing them would be revealing myself to other people, something which I believe has to be earned.” Ash said, with seriousness, before switching to a playful smile. “Now! Take off your shirt and lie down!”
hey, it's Aidan and this guy has been at it for
three years now. they are eighteen years old.
