Post by Sonny McMillan on Dec 15, 2009 18:38:38 GMT -6
[/color]idon'tcareaboutclever,idon'tcareaboutfunny
sonnymicahmcmillanbonjour, my name is Meghan. i've got 21
tracks spinning on my record. i've got serious skill 'cause i've been roleplaying for lots of years and i live in the pacific timezone.
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iwantloadsofclothesandfuckloadsofdiamonds
name , Sonny Micah McMillan
nicknames , None.
age & date of birth , Twenty three, April 3rd.
gender , Male
sexual orientation , Everyone thinks he’s straight, but privately he’s very gay.
played by , Victor Norlander
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height , 5’10
weight , 160lbs
basic appearance, Sonny treads the line of androgyny very well, since with long hair he can flicker in and out of looking very masculine and looking slightly feminine. However when his hair is cut Sonny is undeniably and very noticeably masculine, making him a very versatile and sought after model. He has high cheek bones, a slightly feminine mouth and a square, chiseled and masculine jaw and all together combines into a rather handsome young man.
Not as tall as most in his industry, Sonny is still just tall enough and due to his ability to exchange back and forth between androgynous and masculine he keeps his frame muscled yet thin, and shoot his agency want him more muscular then it is only a matter of weeks. Sonny is by now a master of changing his body form in a small space of time, and will do so every now and then as required by his job. As a general rule, however, Sonny is kept surprisingly strong yet thin, and not an ounce of fat escapes his view.
His sense of style is a very unconcerned, bohemian yet expensive one since as a model and the son of an even more famous model, Sonny is often given clothes no one else can afford for free, simply because it’s good publicity that he wear them. Vests over a t-shirt and jeans, scarves, hats and worn out looking blazer jackets. Even though how he dresses can at times be so simple and would look terribly awkward and out of place on anyone else, Sonny flawlessly looks like a model even while walking around on the street.
physical flaws, narrow ‘sleepy’ eyes, a refined bone structure that can make him look a touch alien, looks slightly feminine, has a small half dollar sized scar from a burn on his collar bone, often looks cold and indifferent when not trying to, big ‘elf’ ears, narrow chin and mouth
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likes , Nice clothes, looking good, attention, sex, casual no commitment relationships, poorly spelt text messages, scarves, people who speak Spanish, cats, drinking, drinking with stupid people, watching female drama, models, white noise, loud music
dislikes , Talking to stupid people, rejection, people who don’t care about what they wear, men with feminine voices, people who want to ‘fix’ others, Catholicism, being told what to do, bats, overly ‘good’ people, quiet, being alone
overall personality , No one really gives Sonny enough credit, the man is a magician when it comes to relations and public affairs. He’s a silver tongued, smooth and adapts to each and every single person he talks to like a trained assassin. He’s a manipulator of words and subsequently minds and has an uncanny ability to be just as charming as necessary. Sonny can fake a feeling or lie and make it look truer than the actual truth, but only because the lies seem a far better place to be. Sonny is in essence a businessman who has yet to grow into his skin and is trying out his abilities on the general public. All in all it makes for a venomous combination that people are better off avoiding but are drawn to all the same.
All most people ever see of Sonny is the rough equivalent of a plaster mask, decorated and eloquent. He’s charming, kind, polite and gentlemanly, someone easy to talk to and pleasant to be around. It’s an act so harshly trained into him that it rolls off him naturally and so well that for a while even he believes he loves people, the world and puppies. Sonny is very easy to work with and is a safe person to be around with just the right amount of chivalry and general respect for another person. However while this façade is nearly impenetrable and a masterful replica of the real thing, it’s very hollow and easy enough to forget. But that is only because most people Sonny associates with he only associates with on a basis of necessity or for a week at most. His eyes aren’t vacant and it’s easy enough to see there’s more below the surface, but after a while a person can start to feel like there’s nothing but a celluloid void under his skin.
Beneath the still waters a storm rages in Sonny, since after being told he was diagnosed with Huntington’s he stopped caring about himself and the world around him. He’s gone through his periods of cutting himself just feel something, gone through phases of treating himself like trash and has recently settled into a happy medium. Sonny has become selfishly motivated, cutthroat, cold and wasteful. He uses people like they were tissues and throws them to the ground just as easily. He doesn’t care if they hurt him and a bloody nose only reminds him he’s alive. He drinks far too much, he only sleeps when he has nothing better to do and only avoids something if it has a potential to make himself less attractive. Since if he isn’t good looking, then all he would have is money, and how common would he be then?
To say the least, Sonny is a bit needy and hard to become attached to for very long. Romantically speaking he’s a fine boyfriend for a week, but then his darker, tar filled side emerges in all its ugliness. He often demands compliments and can be quite moody and is always personally responsible for why all his relationships are on again then off again. Even his fake relationship with women are filled with turmoil that he personally creates for no reason other than that he can and some days he just wants his world to fall to pieces around him. The rare few people who know him often say the only reason he’s gay is that he is more moody than most women, and when paired with an equally emotional female the explosion is nothing attractive. As far as friends go, Sonny generally tends to attract people who need to take care of someone or want to fix something broken, since Sonny is the ultimate project for those people. Beautiful outside, filthy and slick with sewage inside and regularly painting his life in kerosene just to light it on fire and start over again for little to no explanation than a feeling of hopelessness he cannot conquer due to his shortened lifespan. It is possible to become friends with Sonny, but is hardly for the faint of heart or the intolerant. If someone flips a bitch on him on the way he is, you can be sure Sonny will be right there to meet their challenge, but should they weather the all too frequent storms that come with really knowing him, he’s a very loyal and good friend. Not always honest and not always reliable, it can only be expected and he usually makes up for it.
As difficult, confusing and unbearable as he can be, Sonny is generally a cool, calculated person. He doesn’t act like a crazy and he doesn’t cry for seemingly no reason. He’s very much in control of himself and the things he does he rationalizes, analyzes and spends hours calculating. Sonny does have frequent outbursts but only in private with people he trusts or is trying to trust. In a way, his outbursts are a way of him reaching out to people, since nothing can change the fact that his life is spiraling down to the age forty, but having someone there makes the all too visible brick wall at the end of the road seem farther away. He’s incredibly street smart and can read a person easier than words lain in front of his face, only acting on impulse behind closed doors. It is for these reasons why Sonny can be so ruthless and cutthroat, and part of the reason why he has done so well in his career.
To put it simply, Sonny is a demon behind a trained and camera ready smile and practiced charisma, but even beneath the skin of a beast he is human, afraid, angry and compassionate. It’s only a matter of getting there.
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hometown , Chicago, Illinois
family , Derrick McMillan, father, fourty eight
Isis McMillan, mother, deceased
pets , Bint Al-Hawa, Bedouin Arabian, fifteen
history , Isis was a half Syrian, half British girl born in Suez, Egypt. The girl was beautiful and had a smile that seemed oh so harmless, but it never was so. She grew up fast, living with a family that was better off than the rest of her small community, Isis used this as her stepping stone, quickly rising from her status as the farmer’s daughter to supporting herself in the cutthroat world of modeling that had no place for a country girl with no spine. To say the least, Isis had a spine and then some. The woman was heartless, a heat seeking missile aimed at what she wanted and nothing more. Her father died after a few years of madness, but if it affected her no one saw it, since nearly a month after his death Isis was one of the most sought after models in Egypt. Her rise to greatness soon followed, as did marriage to the wealthy American heir of an oil mogul, Derrick McMillan, who was destined and did take over the family business. They loved each other in a dysfunctional yet honest relationship, even if Isis was meant to be only a trophy wife and Derrick only meant to be a source of money when it started. The two settled into a home in Chicago Illinois, and it was this life which Sonny was born into.
Understandably, his parents were a busy pair, and before Sonny could talk his parents took very little interest in him, leaving him to be raised by nannies and the like. However once he passed the age of needing diapers changed and not being able to get himself dressed, his mother swooped in, years of repressed maternal instinct welling forth in a sudden surge. Still a model at the time, Isis was by far not the ideal mother, taking her young son with her to work where a small most certainly should not have been. It was of course no surprise that Sonny also became a model, since he was involved in the industry from the moment he could walk and talk. Regardless, it was a good few years, even if it was spent eating hotel food and photographers slipping him wine in order to keep him calm and quiet, his mother loved him, in her own delirious, cold way.
His father, however, was always distant. He cared; of course he did, but was appalled at what his wife had turned his son into. It came as no surprise to Derrick when Sonny revealed he was gay at fifteen, and it was then when the man simply stopped trying. Derrick continued to support and see Sonny, yet their relationship was nonexistent, and it was in this lacking and longing that Sonny had learned to mimic his father’s keen way of dealing with people. Between the two of them, his parents taught him how to be ever public ready, the son of a billionaire and a super model, the things he did were things that people watched, waiting for the young heir to do something headline worthy. His parents, much to the disappointment to diligent pop culture journalists, closely monitored and trained Sonny, curbing his behavior to make him a respectable and presentable son, despite all his downfalls.
However when his mother fell to Huntington’s Disease, which they then found was the cause of Sonny’s grandfather’s death, everything seemed to fall to pieces. Sonny, then an established model and with an influx of money of his own, eighteen years old and at the peak of his youth, was not only handed the news of his mother’s death, but also struck with a needle. A fifty-fifty chance that he got the gene, and where life had previously been nothing but kind to him, he was suddenly dealt a bad hand. In his forties, he was going to die of a disease that could not be controlled, cured or postponed according to modern science, and the sudden redefined timeline on his life was not something that he could handle. Outwardly he seemed unaffected, yet inside Sonny fell apart, he was angry, scared and felt a sudden urge to do and experience everything, which turned instead into a cataclysmic avalanche.
All his mother’s horses, the ones he’d learned to ride on, were sold away by his father but for her prized mare, Bint Al-Hawa, and this seemed to only solidify the fact in Sonny’s mind that she was gone and before long he would follow. His mother never showed any symptoms, any signs, all of a sudden she just started to fall apart. Silent and swift. Sonny went through phases of depression, anxiety, cutting himself, starving himself and forgetting fear in order to just try and feel something. Only recently has Sonny settled down a bit more, having surrendered himself to six months of no runways and no photoshoots outside of Chicago so he could spend time with his mother’s horse and trying to pull himself back together.
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roleplay sample ,
“I honestly believe you were set up by Reid, I really do, it isn’t like you to be a political terrorist since politics don’t exist on your plane,” Rooke sighed, running a hand through his short dark brown hair, loosening the tie of his suit. He was FBI now, but the suit still didn’t feel like the right uniform. He looked across the table at his pale haired, childhood friend. Uno was a criminal, this he knew, he’d turned a blind eye for the younger male one too many times, but Rooke knew he was a good person beneath it all, no different than himself really. Uno understood the difference between necessary and not, even if he despised to show it. “But the simple fact is we’ve got nothing to go on but your word and the word of Wyatt who’s a convicted felon himself, and the fact that you were trying to kill Reid wont sit right with even a clean jury.” Rooke sighed and Uno scowled, rare look of rage across his face. But this was his friend; Uno felt he was allowed that inch of freedom, to not have to control himself in this room. “Hey man, not to say you shouldn’t file this appeal, I want to see Reid go down as bad as you do and to get you out of here, but until I find something more concrete you’re stuck here.”
Stuck here.
Uno replayed the scene with Rooke this morning over and over in his mind, and every time it just seemed to make him angry. It wasn’t so much being stuck in prison that bothered Uno. He didn’t like it, but he could live with it since he knew, one way or another, he wasn’t going to be serving the life sentence that had been handed to him. Reid had the money, but Uno had quite the bank account himself, and Uno just so happened to be a touch more charismatic. All Reid’s high ranking friends liked Uno better, and it was just a question of how much money it would take to help them overcome their fear of the crime boss.
Uno sighed, rolling over on his cot in his cell. It was lunch time, the mess hall was open yet Uno couldn’t bring himself to eat. He’d been here only a week, it was typical, even for someone who could adapt to a new situation easily, like Uno. The walls were stifling, and even though upon arrival to prison Uno found himself meeting up with customers past who he was on good terms with, Uno was… depressed? It was probably a more accurate word, but Uno wouldn’t allow himself to admit that. Anger was what he preferred to call it.
His connections had helped him to skate by unharmed and untouched the first week, but after his conversation with Rooke this morning, Uno understood he needed to start planning for the long run. Uno was small, un-athletic, plagued by past injury and out of his comfort zone. To retain his sense of self and for self preservation, he needed to make a deal, and soon. And who better to protect the intelligent antelope from the lions than a member of the pride?
Good timing. Uno looked up, outside his cell walked the blonde from one cell over, blood dripping from beneath his shirt sleeves. Uno could categorize him easily, unstable, an emotional train wreck beneath that ambivalent and pleased exterior, more animal than man who was needlessly and dangerously strong. Physically, at least. But a murderer, a sociopath, was all too easily swayed by a stronger personality, and a strong personality Uno had. He sat up with a long sigh, taking that breath to gather himself, to compartmentalize.
“You know, eventually if you keep killing people and being so blasé about it, you’re going to get caught and then you wont have anyone else to vent those, mm… creatively vicious tendencies.” Uno said smoothly and easily.
Stuck here.
Uno replayed the scene with Rooke this morning over and over in his mind, and every time it just seemed to make him angry. It wasn’t so much being stuck in prison that bothered Uno. He didn’t like it, but he could live with it since he knew, one way or another, he wasn’t going to be serving the life sentence that had been handed to him. Reid had the money, but Uno had quite the bank account himself, and Uno just so happened to be a touch more charismatic. All Reid’s high ranking friends liked Uno better, and it was just a question of how much money it would take to help them overcome their fear of the crime boss.
Uno sighed, rolling over on his cot in his cell. It was lunch time, the mess hall was open yet Uno couldn’t bring himself to eat. He’d been here only a week, it was typical, even for someone who could adapt to a new situation easily, like Uno. The walls were stifling, and even though upon arrival to prison Uno found himself meeting up with customers past who he was on good terms with, Uno was… depressed? It was probably a more accurate word, but Uno wouldn’t allow himself to admit that. Anger was what he preferred to call it.
His connections had helped him to skate by unharmed and untouched the first week, but after his conversation with Rooke this morning, Uno understood he needed to start planning for the long run. Uno was small, un-athletic, plagued by past injury and out of his comfort zone. To retain his sense of self and for self preservation, he needed to make a deal, and soon. And who better to protect the intelligent antelope from the lions than a member of the pride?
Good timing. Uno looked up, outside his cell walked the blonde from one cell over, blood dripping from beneath his shirt sleeves. Uno could categorize him easily, unstable, an emotional train wreck beneath that ambivalent and pleased exterior, more animal than man who was needlessly and dangerously strong. Physically, at least. But a murderer, a sociopath, was all too easily swayed by a stronger personality, and a strong personality Uno had. He sat up with a long sigh, taking that breath to gather himself, to compartmentalize.
“You know, eventually if you keep killing people and being so blasé about it, you’re going to get caught and then you wont have anyone else to vent those, mm… creatively vicious tendencies.” Uno said smoothly and easily.
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mmkay. so this application hurr was made by AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? of caution. steal it or take off this credit, and i shall hunt you down and eat your insides! lyrics credit to lily allen.
