Post by raymond lewis hicks on Aug 1, 2010 16:59:13 GMT -5
R A Y M O N D L E W I S H I C K S
` [/COLOR] herb the gift from the earth
and what's from the earth
is of the greatest worth
so before you knock it try it first
you'll see it's a blessing
and not a curse
if you don't like my fire
then don't come around
cause i'm gonna burn one down
eyes i'm gonna burn one down
HEYA, MY NAME IS CRACKY AND I'VE BEEN PARTYING
IT UP FOR NINETEEN YEARS. DON'T MESS WITH ME I'LL SCREW YOU UP,
BUT IF YOU WANT TO CHAT HIT ME UP AT PM.
I FOUND THIS AMAZING SITE FROM HALEY,
I PLAY A TOTAL OF ONE; RAYMOND HICKS.
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* NAME, raymond lewis hicks
* NICKNAMES, hicks
* GENDER, male
* SEXUALITY, straight
* AGE & BIRTHDAY, twenty-two. march 7, 1988
* GRADE/OCCUPATION, mcdonald's crew member
* MEMBER GROUP, citizen
* FACE CLAIM, ryan hunter
* PARENTS,
mother, lindasy hicks, 47,
father, daniel hicks, 49,
* SIBLINGS,
sister, ashleigh hicks, died at 18
* OTHER, n/a
* HOMETOWN, San Diego, CA
* OVERALL HISTORY,
* Raymond Lewis Hicks born in San Diego in 1988 to a couple who had been married for about a year. The Hicks' family was a middle class family, but they had the money to support a family. Almost two years later another child was introduced into the Hicks' family, Ashleigh.
* Raymond's childhood was that of a normal childs. First birthday, first steps, first day of school. all of which were quite average. Raymond was about average in school, but spent a lot of his time playing his fathers old acoustic guitar. Since grade school Raymond decided he'd much rather be called Hicks instead of Raymond or Ray. He just liked it better.
* In high school Hicks met some boys his age and tried weed. It became a rather normal past time along with a two person acoustic band that played little non-paid gigs that were, according to hicks' parents, a waste of time.
* After amazingly graduating high school, Hicks moved to Los Angelos with his sister who was an aspiring model. The two got along well, and hey, he was her older brother he had to watch out for her... plus the change of scenery was nice too.
* Only a year later hicks got the news his sister had overdosed on cocaine. apparently ashleigh had been using the drugs to keep herself thin. Hicks beat himself up over not watching out for her well enough, for not noticing.
* Now hicks is a twenty two year old who works flipping burgers and taking orders at the local mcdonalds. He still smokes too much weed and might give off the 'hippy vibe.' and even though he lives in LA he has no aspirations to become famous in anyway. He's happy just living day to day.
* EYE COLOR, dark brown
* HAIR COLOR, brown
* WEIGHT, 5'11”
* HEIGHT, 152lbs
* TATTOOS & PIERCINGS, hicks has two tattoos one of his left upper arm and another on his right forearm.
* DISTINGUISHING FEATURES, hicks' dreads tend to be an eye catcher, aside from his hair he is rather average looking.
* SECRETS, he blames himself for his sisters death.
* DREAMS, hicks doesn't really have dreams at the moment, he lives day by day.
* FEARS, death, gets light headed and nauseous at the sight of large amounts of blood, and loosing someone he cares about.
* PERSONALITY,
hicks is a really layed back kind of guy. basically he thinks you can do whatever you want so long as it doesn't harm anyone. Like weed for example. Hicks is generally a really nice, caring person but he tends to be rather brutally honest when asked his opinion, so if you need someone to tell you if your ass looks big in those jeans, ask Hicks he wont lie to you. Hicks is a bit of your everyday 'hippy-ish' lovable stoner. He can get along with just about anyone, and would very much rather people didn't argue.
` ROLE-PLAY EXAMPLE,
For Chase today was basically like every other day, Chase hadn't managed to get much of anything worth while done. Shooting up, drinking too much, and wasting time around town cruising in his racer green Jaguar XKR. Extremely exciting waste of a day. He'd recently gotten back from a rather uneventful day on the town. He had decided to call it a night early tonight because he had to stop by some dudes house to drop off a couple dimes of weed. That's where he got most of his money, weed. He wasn't a fan of pot – it wasn't strong enough for his taste. But most of the collage students and young adults he sold to had jobs, or classes they still had to deal with and getting totally high off your ass wasn't exactly the way to get things done right. So weed was more of a demanded substance.
Stepping into his apartment, and locking the door behind him, he tossed his keys onto the counter. There where still a few boxes here and there. He was much to lazy to unpack everything. After all there wasn't much he could, or was willing to do, to make his shitty – according to him – apartment look any nicer... so why bother? There was bent up spoons on the counter, and empty rigs in his room, drugs – that where well hidden, and a few sealed needles in the bathroom... along with the drug related things his dishes where stacked in the sick, and there where a few tee shirts hanging over the foot of his bed, all in all his apartment looked like that of a young, careless boys' place. Just what you'd expect from someone like Chase.
The nineteen year old boy collapsed on the couch his hands resting behind his head, and a lit, half gone cigarette sticking out between his lips. This boy practically smoked constantly – at least he did when he wasn't busy with other, better drugs. Lung cancer was the least of his worries. The boy sighed, fuck this was boring... Maybe he'd head back out. It wasn't like he'd have much fun sitting around his all too quite apartment alone. Deciding the club sounded a hell of a lot better then his current entertainment he pushed himself up off the couch and tossed the rest of his almost finished cigarette into a glass that still held a little water in the bottom that was setting on the kitchen counter. Then he wandered into his room and pulled off his shirt. He was all too thin, drugs did that to you. He was also quite pale – lack of a love for the outdoors. He pulled a clean, at least clean enough, Disturbed shirt out of his closet and pulled it over his head. As for the rest of his looks, he never spent a lot of time on what he looked like. His hair was unruly, the straight, damaged, black locks stuck out in any direction they wanted. His eyes, ice blue. He was tall standing at six foot two inches.
Grabbing his keys he wandered into the main room of his basically empty apartment. Then there was a knock on the door. He glanced toward the shut door. Who the fuck could that be? No one was supposed to come over. No one had called. It was probably some junkie showing up cause they ran out of shit. He hooked his car keys on his beltloop and made his way to his door. He flipped the lock and opened it, he smirked not too upset by who was standing outside his door, arms over her middle. Yup – a junkie, a girl he'd sold to before. Her name... what has her name? Oh well, it didn't really matter.. she was hot, and obviously at the moment quite in need of a fix. “Well, hello there. Come on in.” He stepped out of her way ever-so-slightly, giving her just barely enough room to get inside. What? she was sexy, he wouldn't mind her rubbin' on him a little as she passed.
Now, if it had been some fucked up dude, in need of a hit, he'd probably have shut the door in his face and told him to fuck off. “What can I do for you, babe?” He asked. 'babe' was one of his regular, condescending nicknames he used for the chicks he found attractive.He shut the door behind her and followed her into the apartment. If he remembered correctly this chick was into heroin. Much more fun then weed. Maybe he'd have a bit of entertainment here after all.
Stepping into his apartment, and locking the door behind him, he tossed his keys onto the counter. There where still a few boxes here and there. He was much to lazy to unpack everything. After all there wasn't much he could, or was willing to do, to make his shitty – according to him – apartment look any nicer... so why bother? There was bent up spoons on the counter, and empty rigs in his room, drugs – that where well hidden, and a few sealed needles in the bathroom... along with the drug related things his dishes where stacked in the sick, and there where a few tee shirts hanging over the foot of his bed, all in all his apartment looked like that of a young, careless boys' place. Just what you'd expect from someone like Chase.
The nineteen year old boy collapsed on the couch his hands resting behind his head, and a lit, half gone cigarette sticking out between his lips. This boy practically smoked constantly – at least he did when he wasn't busy with other, better drugs. Lung cancer was the least of his worries. The boy sighed, fuck this was boring... Maybe he'd head back out. It wasn't like he'd have much fun sitting around his all too quite apartment alone. Deciding the club sounded a hell of a lot better then his current entertainment he pushed himself up off the couch and tossed the rest of his almost finished cigarette into a glass that still held a little water in the bottom that was setting on the kitchen counter. Then he wandered into his room and pulled off his shirt. He was all too thin, drugs did that to you. He was also quite pale – lack of a love for the outdoors. He pulled a clean, at least clean enough, Disturbed shirt out of his closet and pulled it over his head. As for the rest of his looks, he never spent a lot of time on what he looked like. His hair was unruly, the straight, damaged, black locks stuck out in any direction they wanted. His eyes, ice blue. He was tall standing at six foot two inches.
Grabbing his keys he wandered into the main room of his basically empty apartment. Then there was a knock on the door. He glanced toward the shut door. Who the fuck could that be? No one was supposed to come over. No one had called. It was probably some junkie showing up cause they ran out of shit. He hooked his car keys on his beltloop and made his way to his door. He flipped the lock and opened it, he smirked not too upset by who was standing outside his door, arms over her middle. Yup – a junkie, a girl he'd sold to before. Her name... what has her name? Oh well, it didn't really matter.. she was hot, and obviously at the moment quite in need of a fix. “Well, hello there. Come on in.” He stepped out of her way ever-so-slightly, giving her just barely enough room to get inside. What? she was sexy, he wouldn't mind her rubbin' on him a little as she passed.
Now, if it had been some fucked up dude, in need of a hit, he'd probably have shut the door in his face and told him to fuck off. “What can I do for you, babe?” He asked. 'babe' was one of his regular, condescending nicknames he used for the chicks he found attractive.He shut the door behind her and followed her into the apartment. If he remembered correctly this chick was into heroin. Much more fun then weed. Maybe he'd have a bit of entertainment here after all.
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