Post by splash on Nov 22, 2016 4:44:11 GMT
Name: Lance Jackson Kingsman
Playby: Thomas Brodie-Sangster
Age: Born July 5, Twenty-three Years Old
Shipping Status: Recently Single
School: Attended Metric for Sculpture
Class: Graduated, Bachelor's Degree in Art
Occupation: Works part-time at the local Pizza Place
Build: "Ottermode"--or as most would identify, Swimmer's build
Hair: Sandy Blonde in colour, a bit shaggy and he just lets it fall where it may
Eyes: A dark, chocolate brown that can melt the coldest heart
Skin: Delightfully pale, with an occasional freckle or two
Distinguishing Marks: His shoulder blades and the back of his thighs have crosshatching of scars
Physical Strengths: He is *ahem* flexible in some respect and he possesses quite the reserve of stamina
Physical Weaknesses: He does bruise easily and is rather clumsy, often tripping on his own feet
Sexuality: Homosexual
Pronouns: He, Him, His
Astrology Sign: Cancer,
Myers-Briggs: INFP "The Mediator"
Temperment: Melancholic
Enneagram: Type 5 "The Investigator"
Chakras:
- Root: under-active (-6%)
- Sacral: open (19%)
- Navel: under-active (-25%)
- Heart: under-active (-6%)
- Throat: open (19%)
- Third Eye: open (19%)
- Crown: under-active (-6%)
Alignment: Neutral-Good "The Benefactor"
Personality: Quiet and kind, Lance often just wants to see others smile. His purpose in life is to raise others up and not cause any harm. Softspoken and timid are words usually used to describe him as well as mild-mannered and gentle. Naturally, as with physics where every action must have an equally as powerful reaction, there is a side to Mr. Lance only seen by the very few. For such a seemingly innocent and polite young man, pain as well as domination-submission tactics are what get him off.
Mental Strengths: Open-minded, Passionate, Creative, Idealistic
Mental Weaknesses: Sensitive, Introverted, Alcoholic, Pessimist
Relationships:
- FATHER-- a Mr. Crosby Kingsman, a preacher
- MOTHER-- a Mrs. Angelina Kingsman, a preacher's wife
- EX-SO-- a Mr. Robert Simple, a photographer
Character History: Midway, Utah. Population just over 7,000 and filled with people so far up their own asses they can't tell their right from their left. Home sweet home and little Lance Kinsman had to be the perfect little preacher's son. How restraining. Not at all whom he really was. His father made it clear that only their way of life was permissible and would punish his son harshly for any deviance from 'the righteous path'. Stripped down to nothing and thrown over his father's knee. Lashes buried into the skin on his thighs and shoulder blades, the buckle of the leather belt catching at times. After a while they became normal, even--dare he say it-- enjoyable. After the first cry of ecstasy from his lips his father didn't know what to do anymore. So the beatings stopped. Kneeling on grits didn't seem harsh enough. But pain was enjoyable.
He'd always shown promise in the art of sculpting. Faces and figures were given much thought, much detail. An almost loving touch at the hands of the master. A model instilled a burning passion and desire, one thought unquenchable even as clay was rolled and molded in his hands. Robert Simple was beautiful, talented, strong. He shared the burning desire for that sinful touch, that act so shamed in the walls of the church and their homes. A relationship was carried out in secret. Until they were discovered in bed together. The belt was retrieved, both boys ran in vain. The beatings were harder, harsher, filled with a deep burning hatred. Blood was spilled, bruises turned his skin black.
House arrest. Only allowed to leave the family home for school and church, lasting his remaining high school years. Graduation day could not come soon enough. Diplomas received, Lance and Robert packed their bags and left town hand-in-hand. California was their safe haven, a place where they could be who they were and pursue whatever it was they most desired.. Memory of a school called Metric resurfaced and Lance applied, delighted upon approval. The young men moved to Salem, California. Hope of better lives was instilled in their chests.
Alcohol was introduced to their lives. It had been preached against back home. In Salem the booze flowed like rivers. Everything was hazy, light. Problems drifted away. The sex grew rougher, drugs pulsed through their bodies, and pupils dilated. Lance became dependent on the alcohol, a sweet escape from the memories paining him. Seeing him sober was reserved only for classes, his art needing his full cognitive abilities. Hands became calloused and rough, creating beauty in a sea of turmoil.
Abuse. It came subtly at first, a slap from Robert every once in the while not in the sanctity of the bedroom. It escalated. Slaps became scratches. Scratches fostered punches. Punches led to brutal beatings. Most was enjoyable. Sick, Lance knew, but with the alcohol, drugs and euphoria flooding his body, it was difficult to comprehend the trauma his body was granted. Not until the fifth concussion and a broken jaw as well as a sprained wrist warranted a visit from the authorities. Domestic Violence was charged. A restraining order was filed. Lance and Robert broke up days after Lance earned his degree in art.
Alone now. Alcohol his only warmth and the softness of the sheets his only comfort. A smile hiding the sadness and confusion. Drunk slurring masking the depressed thoughts of a young man struggling to find his place in the world yet again. No family. No lover. No friends. Absolute solitude. Will it get better?
Who knows?
