Post by dodger hoberman on Apr 25, 2009 19:26:02 GMT -5
dodger keith hoberman!
[/color][/font]WON'T HESITATE NO MORE
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TO BE CHILL BUT YOU'RE SO HOT
[/color][/font]THAT I MELTED I FELL RIGHT THROUGH THE CRACKS AND NOW I'M TRYING
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"well hey hey sexy people, the name's dodger keith hoberman, but most people
just call me hobey. i was welcomed into this fine world on december third, 1989,
which would make me about ninteen years old. obviously i'm a dude, and
i'm hella proud of it too! i'm also very proud to be a straight, so if
you don't like it, you can go suck it! a lot of people tend to tell me that i really do
look a whole lot like danny beauchamp. i think it's mostly because of my dark brown
hair and my totally heart breaking pale blue eyes. but what really makes me sexy is
my great smile and chiseled jaw. oh...and did i mention that i'm living it up as a university sophomore.
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nothing's gonna stop me but divine intervention
[/color][/font][/i]i reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some but i won't hesitate no more[/font]
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playing pranks on people, girls, sleeping, my hair, movies, food,
surprises, spontaneity, music, contacts, kissing, soda, junk food,
horror movies, relaxing, hanging out, action movies, classic rock,
staying in shape, the smell of cut grass, cars, rain, fooling around,
jokes, staying up late, burgers, super hero movies, bacon, talking,
cold showers, flirting, loud music, sports, comic books, working
out, video games, sun, french fries, drinking, taking life as it comes,
public displays of affection, driving, pizza, batman, attention, dogs,
gum, making people laugh, laughing, chocolate, lightning
AND NOT SO MUCH?
studying, failing, being rejected, classes, coffee, the library, drinking
age (so close!), being bored, snakes, reading, having nothing to do,
planning things in advance, quiet, my glasses (i refuse to wear them),
chic flicks, going to movies in the theater, snow, dressing up, cigarettes,
being told to ‘act my age,’ vegetarians, vegans, hair gel, classical music,
fish, being serious, stress, being alone, sleeping in, citrus, diet soda,
knuckle-crackers, chores, missing meals, cleaning, any purple candy,
the overly serious, running for extended periods of time, girls under
sixteen (they’re annoying), getting lost, thunder
WHAT GET'S TO YOU, SCAREDY CAT?
well, i wouldn’t really call it a fear, but i hate sitting still, not doing
anything. damn, what’s that word... oh, stagnant! ha, years of
vocab finally pay off! yes, i hate being ‘stagnant.’ ...i hope i’m using
that word right. anyway. if i just sit around for too long and don’t do
anything, i get freaked out. this is going to sound kind of shallow i
think, but i’m afraid of not being liked. i’m afraid of being alone.
and i’m really afraid of snakes. dude, those things are just creepy.
WHAT'S YOUR DREAM COME TRUE?
i dunno. i’d like to graduate college, i guess. i want to decide on a
major before the end of the semester. i want to be a model, but
that’s not exactly likely. i can’t really think of anything else. i mean,
i don’t know what i want to do with my life yet. this is gonna sound
corny, but i do know that i want to get married, have a family.
WHAT ARE YOUR HABITS , GOOD AND BAD?
i like walking on walls and ledges. like, instead of walking on the
sidewalk, i’ll walk on the ledge or the wall next to the sidewalk.
and i always walk on those things in some parking lots, the blocks
along the front of the parking spaces? i dunno how to describe
those things, but they’re wicked fun. i tap my fingers and kick things
and just move a lot. when i’m trying to convince someone to do
something, i use their first name a lot. i think it makes me more
persuasive, but i have no idea. i’ve been told i’m overtly flirtatious.
i’m not even entirely sure what that means. and i’m almost always
chewing gum, not that i’m particularly original in that.
WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?
well, i think i’m pretty open. but i don’t exactly broadcast the fact
that i’ve always wanted to be a model or that women’s studies is
my favorite class, ‘cause my friends would call me gay. i am totally
not gay, by the way. not that i’m like, a homophobe. jeez, i think
i’m digging myself into a hole here. moving on – i wouldn’t call it a
secret really, but i don’t like people to know how badly i did in high
school. i’m doing a bit better now in college. i still procrastinate,
but i manage to get almost everything done, and on time. i didn’t
in high school. i’m lucky i graduated and got into upittsburgh at all.
i don’t like people knowing that, because i’m not really as stupid as
that makes me sound. i mean, i’m no genius. i’m just not an idiot,
and i don’t want people to think of me as one.
GOT A FAVORITE MEMORY?
my high school graduation, hands down, because it was the
weirdest day ever. before graduation, i hung out with roscoe,
which we never do, so that was fun. then, we all had to be at
school an hour early. all the girls were getting ready and stuff,
but the guys really had nothing to do. we threw things in the
pool. old school papers, the clothes we were wearing under
our graduation robes (me and all four of my best guy friends
went naked), a football (it floated!), a junior. then we graduated,
which was a way bigger deal than i ever thought it would be.
i couldn’t believe i almost didn’t. i said goodbye to all my old
teachers – more specifically, the ones i liked. then i hung out
with my family for a bit. and then, the wildest night of partying
of my high school career. even better than prom. it was a good
fucking time, man.
THE WORST?
i had this girlfriend my senior year in high school. arabella. i
was so convinced i was in love with her. all my friends thought
i was being an idiot. i applied to colleges because she applied
to them. she got into wellesley, the best all-girls school in the
country (i clearly didn’t apply there). even if i was a girl, i
wouldn’t have gotten in. but she was going to go to upittsburgh
anyway, to go to school with me. i didn’t want her to throw
her future away for me. not that up isn’t a great school, because
it is. it’s just no wellesley. i told her to go there, and she got
angry with me. she thought i was trying to break up with her
and make it seem like i was being the good guy, doing the right
thing. i wasn’t, but i couldn’t convince her. she broke up with me
and went to wellesley, in boston. last i heard, she was dating a
harvard guy. is it pathetic that that’s my worst memory? i’ve
considered going to boston, but i don’t know what i’d say. and
she said she never wanted to see me again. but i’ve never felt
about a girl the way i felt about her.
WHAT ABOUT PET PEEVES?
well, i’m not very easily annoyed, really. this is really hypocritical,
because i do it all the time, but i get really annoyed when i’m
trying to concentrate and do homework and someone else is
tapping their fingers on the desk or kicking the leg of the table. i
find people who take themselves too seriously very annoying. i
hate professors who are never around when you need them. and
i hate making plans. i just like doing things, not thinking too
much about it.
HOW STRONG ARE YOU?
i’m pretty damn strong. oh, you meant like, metaphorically or
whatever. well, i’m pretty good at sports and stuff. and i'm
funny. i have a high self-confidence, which is definitely a good
thing. i always keep my promises, and i’m a reliable enough guy.
i’m honest. and let’s face it – i’m damn sexy. that’s a strength,
yeah? girls like me ‘cause i’m just so smooth. i’m funny and a
pretty good prankster. i’m not a total idiot, though i hate school
and work. i’m creative in a way. at least, i can make up decent
excuses as to why i didn’t do my school work on any given
occasion. i’m likeable and can get out of trouble pretty easily;
call me charming. i’m level-headed and don’t have much of a
temper. i know when enough is enough; i push boundaries,
but i don’t cross them.
EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS ...
i’ve been called a bit of an ‘egomaniac.’ whatever. i don’t try
in school, even though people always tell me that i could do
so well if i did. i get distracted easily and don’t like to focus
on anything for too long. i talk too much. as roscoe says, i
‘don’t act my age.’ i don’t have a very big vocabulary and i
can’t spell to save my life. i can not stay serious for any
extended period of time. i’m easily annoyed and quick to
judge people. i get easily distracted by girls. i think about
girls too much. i flirt too much. i probably date too much. i
definitely drink too much. and i think i curse too much.
HOW'S YOUR HYMEN, METAPHORICALLY OR NOT?
wtf’s a ‘hymen’? i like girls. a lot. =D
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i'm yours; well open up your heart and see like me
[/color][/font][/i]open up your plans and damn you're free look into your heart and you'll find
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reading’s overrated. i guess if i like, had to choose…
i kinda liked that book we read sophomore year in high
school… the catcher in the rye? it didn’t totally suck, anyway.
FAVORITE MOVIE?
oh, either the original jaws, nightmare on elm street,
or rush hour. action/horror flicks all the way.
FAVORITE MEMBER OF NSYNC?
hell if i know any of their names. i was more of
a backstreet boys kinda guy.
(lance.)
FAVORITE FOOD?
pizza and french fries, please and thank you!
FAVORITE TYPE OF BUBBLE GUM?
original or mint. none of that fancy crap that i
can barely pronounce.
FAVORITE COLOR?
probably blue. yeah, cliché answer.
FAVORITE TV SHOW?
family guy, with the simpsons as a veryyy close second.
FAVORITE NON-ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE?
coke. and none of that diet shit. just plain old coke.
FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE?
gin and tonic. i mean, if you wanna get all fancy. as far
as like, party-friendly drinks go, i’m pretty easy-going. i
mean, i can’t really tell the difference from one beer to
the other.
FAVORITE TIME OF DAY?
really late at night. like, eleven at night through
two in the morning.
FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
probably either new year’s or halloween. new year’s
because, i dunno, there’s something really exciting
about it. that’s probably really lame. and halloween
because i like dressing up, having an excuse to be
silly and wild. ha, not that i really need an excuse, i
guess.
FAVORITE IDEAL DATE?
hmmm... oh, i know! picnic on the beach! i always
thought that looked like fun. ‘cept, there would
need to be a blanket involved. i had sex on the
beach once. it’s really not fun, and not romantic
like people make it sound. it’s actually really,
really uncomfortable.
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spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
[/color][/i][/font]and bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer but my breath fogged up
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alexander leonardo hoberman; fifty-one; los angeles, california; stock broker; father
AND HIS BABY MOMMA?
maria isabella lorenzo; forty-eight; los angeles, california; runs a small cafe; mother
WHAT ABOUT THOSE CRAZY SIBLINGS?
roscoe james hoberman; sixteen; junior at stewart academy; younger brother.
WHERE ARE YOU FROM?
los angeles, california.
WHAT'S YOUR LIFE STORY?
first of all, i should say that my brother and i have
a really weird background. my mom’s half italian,
one-forth greek, and one-forth columbian, and my
dad’s half italian and half jewish. we were raised
catholic, but i’m not even a little religious.
anyway. there isn’t really anything interesting to
tell. my parents met in college at amherst, both
business/econ majors. which of course is the last
thing i would ever major in. i have a younger brother.
i went to school, partied, whatever. graduated, and
now i’m at university of pittsburgh. up. like, you pee!
i’ve always been amused by that. i grew up in la, and
i am such a california boy. roscoe isn’t, really. he’s
probably more well-suited to being here, but damn do
i miss california. but really, i haven’t got much to tell.
my parents are still together. my brother and i get along
relatively well, though we do of course have our fights –
we’re really very different. we’ve always been pretty
well-off. not enormously wealthy, but rich enough that
paying for my college and roscoe’s private school was
not an issue.
THE SOUNDTRACK TO YOUR LIFE?
i’m wide awake and so alive, ringing like a bell. tell me this is
paradise, and not some place i fell. ‘cause i keep on falling
down. i want to feel the car crash, i want to feel the capsize,
i want to feel the bomb drop, the earth stop, ‘til i’m satisfied.
i want to feel the car crash, ‘cause i’m dying on the inside. i
want to let go and know that i’ll be alright, alright. so push
me ‘til i have to fly. i’ve shed my skin, my scars. and take
me deep out past the lights where nothing dims these stars.
nothing dims these stars.
car crash matt nathanson
something’s in the air tonight, the sky’s alive with a burning
light. you can mark my words, something’s about to break.
and i found myself in a bitter fight while i’ve held your hand
through the darkest night. don’t know where you’re coming
from, but you’re coming soon. all of this is more than i’ve
ever known or seen. come on and we’ll sing like we were free.
push the pedal down, watch the world around fly by us. come
on and we’ll try one last time. i’m off of the floor one more
time to find you. and here we go, there’s nothing left to choose.
and here we go, there’s nothing left to lose. so i packed my
car and headed east where i felt your fire and a sweet release.
there’s a fire in these hills that’s coming down. i can still hear
the trains out my window. from hobart street to here in nashville.
i can still smell the pomegranates grow. and i don’t know how
hard this wind will blow, or where we’ll go.
nothing to lose mat kearney
so you sailed away, into a grey sky morning. now i’m here
to stay. love can be so boring. nothing’s quite the same
now. i just say your name now. but it’s not so bad. you’re
only the best i ever had. you don’t want me back. you’re
just the best i ever had. so you stole my world, now i’m
just a phony. remembering the girl leaves me down and
lonely. and it may take some time to patch me up inside.
but i can’t take it so i run away and hide. it’s not so bad,
you’re just the best i ever had.
best i ever had vertical horizon
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THERE'S NO NEED TO COMPLICATE
[/color][/color][/font][/font]OUR TIME IS SHORT THIS IS OUR FATE I'M YOURS SCOOCH ON CLOSER DEAR[/font]
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hey, what's up? my name is andi and i've been rocking out with
my stunna shades for seventeen years. yeah, i know i'm pretty ill.
and obviously i'm a chica, can you dig it? if you wanna get in touch with
me just hit me up by pm is fine. oh, and i gotta have me my red light district.
[/i], no less. But that malicious cacophony sending shivers down Ezra’s spine had a similar effect on the youngest Black brother. He wasn’t a regular at Knockturn Alley, not in the slightest; in fact, this was only his second rendezvous to the less high-brow (lower brow, if you will) section of wizarding England. For like any intelligent Hogwarts student, Regulus typically kept to Diagon Alley for his school shopping.my stunna shades for seventeen years. yeah, i know i'm pretty ill.
and obviously i'm a chica, can you dig it? if you wanna get in touch with
me just hit me up by pm is fine. oh, and i gotta have me my red light district.
His one prior experience in Knockturn Alley had been when he was ten. His brother was at school, and had been sorted into Gryffindor the week before. Orion did not take the news very well. He took it quite badly, actually, as one might expect. And once he was made aware of the situation, he made it his mission to make sure that he could not call both of his sons utter failures; Regulus would be in Slytherin, if it was the last thing he did.
Orion was never the most paternal of fathers; Regulus barely knew the man growing up, though he did rather idolize him. His brother was always his main role model, but what young boy can help but look up to their fathers, as distant a figure as they may be? The prospect of going on a rare outing with his father was the pinnacle of Regulus’ awful year to himself; maybe, it seemed, since he had lost Sirius to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, he could build a closer bond with his father, making Sirius’ eleventh birthday seem a little brighter in Regulus’ eyes.
The outing did not go quite as Reg might have hoped. His father took him to Knockturn Alley and showed him things that he considered “draws.” Items in various shops and the like. He thought that introducing the world of the Dark Arts to Reg early would get him interested in it. And Reggie pretended to be; he didn’t want to let his father down, after all. But truthfully, he had nightmares for weeks. It was one of his less pleasant memories.
This trip, his second trip to Knockturn Alley, was under very different circumstances. He was not dragged here againsthis free will, nor was he mindlessly browsing. No, he had come here alone, for one, and on purpose, for another. He had intentionally strayed from his school shopping, strayed from the neatly cobbled streets, down a dark side street, and into the grimy roads of Knockturn Alley. The filth was not quite doing it for Mr. Black. He much preferred cleanliness, honestly; he remembered that the sheer disrepair of the place had been one of the main turnoffs on his last visit, as well.
But the goals of this visit and his last were disturbingly similar. His father had been trying to jolt that Death Eater spark into his remaining heir; Regulus was now striving towards the same goal. It had been a little over a month since June twenty-third, the date of not only his birthday, but his Death Eater initiation. Yet, he didn’t feel any more of a Death Eater than he did at age ten, and it was frightening him. He would sit awake at night, running his fingers over the scar burned into his left forearm, shivering at how out of place it felt against his cold, pale skin. To him, that was the only difference between the Regulus Black that had been dragged from shop to shop in Knockturn Alley by his father, and the Regulus Black that wandered them now. A raw patch of skin that burned and tingled, woke him up in his sleep.
It was worrying him. He should feel differently, shouldn’t he? At least a little bit. He should be… excited? Ready? Enthralled? Something positive, at least. But he was nervous. He was making himself sick for nerves. His mother thought that he had a stomach virus for the amount of times he had been sick in the middle of the night, woken by dreams and flashes of green light and an odd taste in his mouth. Shouldn’t he be more excited by the prospect of joining the Dark Lord’s ranks? Feel like he was serving a purpose, like he was honoring his family and his heritage? It should be a point of pride, not a vomit-inducing nightmare that haunted him whenever he could think too much about it, a dark cloud growing from the back of his mind, extending from his subconscious into his every day life, threatening to consume him, body and soul.
He figured that he could make it a positive thing, if he tried hard enough. He was suffering from apathy, no doubt. He wasn’t deluding himself, surely. He just wasn’t yet exposed enough to that world to realize what he was doing. He was only thinking of the negatives; of killing, of torturing, of murder. He was overlooking what was important: preserving the blood line, honoring his family and heritage, doing what he had been raised to know was right. So he had insisted on doing his school shopping alone this summer – his parents hadn’t minded, really. And he had gotten some of it done thusfar – he had a bag full of books and a smaller bag of quills and parchment. And then he had diverged from his path, wandering down into Knockturn Alley. He would peruse a bit, look through the stores dedicated to the Dark Arts, try to immerse himself in it. And who knows, maybe it would work. No delusion there.
Reg had since wandered into, and quickly out of, three or so stores. And it would seem that he would now be victim to more nightmares, for he had seen nothing remotely pleasant, and nothing that enthralled him to be a part of his new Death Eater lifestyle. In fact, he was quite sure that he was going to be…
Yes. Regulus staggered off of the main road, past a hag selling something that looked mysteriously like toes on toothpicks, and doubled over, clutching his stomach. The hag made a face and some clattering guttural noise, and scuffled a few feet away from the pile of sick Reggie had left in the decaying grass. He was a sight – the normally pristinely dressed and manicured Regulus Black was pale, more so than his usual pale tint, eyes slightly bloodshot, hair disheveled. For once not caring about his appearance, he wiped off his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak via the back of his right hand. He picked up the bags he had dropped, one in each hand. It was the dismembered hand on a plaque that had really gotten to him. He cursed himself mentally for being so weak-stomached and soft-hearted. It did not at all suit the life he had “chosen” for himself. He scowled as he started back down the road, stumbling slightly as he worked towards regaining his balance.
He had had enough. He needed to finish his school shopping, anyway. Quite distressed and disappointed with himself, Regulus started back in the direction of Diagon Alley. He became distracted by a cloaked figure, face hidden beneath a hood, standing on the side of the road. Weird, frightening noises were coming from the figure, but didn’t seem to be from beneath the hood… Frightened, Reg took off quickly, but didn’t check ahead of him before darting down the road.
CRASH! Regulus smacked into another body in motion. For lack of attention and his slow success in regaining use of his motor skills, Regulus fell backwards, though the figure he had collided with was noticeably smaller than himself. He heard a yelp, and a loud thud as his bag full of books hit the ground; a lighter one as his other back hit the ground. He winced as the crack than ensued; it would seem that an ink well had broken. He’d have to get some more, apparently. Then something heavy fell on one of his feet – something metal and curved. He yelped, more in surprise than pain (not that it didn’t hurt), his leg retracting inwards toward his body reflexively. He then noticed that he had squeezed his eyes shut as he had headed towards the ground – an impulse, presumably. So he opened his eyes, one by one, hoping like hell that he hadn’t crashed with anyone particularly frightening.
Reg’s eyes widened as he quickly recognized his victim. “Ezra?” he questioned, visibly perplexed. What on earth was Ezra doing in Knockturn Alley? Surprised though he was, Reggie exhaled a quiet sigh of relief, more than glad that it had been a friendly face he had crashed into, as opposed to a creepy street vendor.[/color]
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this application was created by ally uno of toybird productions and
ally cubed of toybird productions and CAUTION 2.0. steal this and we will
hunt you down and release ally uno's angry pregnancy hormones on you.