HART, ezra.

[EZRA HART]

ezrafuckinghart.
what's up, winterthorne? i'm SAV,
and i'm applying to your FANTASTIC
little site. i'm FIFTEEN years young.
i've only been roleplaying for AIDEEKAY years
long, but you can still count on me to be
the HIGH one.



thissong'sfortheemokids.
( withthepunkrock,rockabillyscreamolids )

name , ezra hart. no middle name.
nicknames , ezza, ezzy.
age and year , eighteen and senior.
sexual preference , pan-sex-you-all.
birthday , april nineteenth, 'eighty-nine.
species , demon.
occupation , student; bartender at the secret.
powers ,

acid generation.
magnetism.
teleportation.
metal manipulation.
gravity manipulation.

butdamnyoulookgood.
( andi'mdrunk )

height , six feet, two inches.
weight , one hundred forty-eight pounds.
tattoos and piercings , like fifty piercings in each ear, snakebites, and a thousand more piercings. tattoo on shoulder, and XVII tattoed on the back of his neck..
best feature , his eyes, or his smile.
general ,

With his figure, Ezra’s not the ready to play pro basketball, but he sure as he hell can break up a fight if he needs to--which, technically, is part of his job at the secret. It's not like he works out every day, but he also isn't a couch potato; he finds ways to keep fit. He's underweight for his height (most likely because he prefers only to eat his "orgasmic fries" at lunch), but don't put that past him; he still has the ability to generate acid from his fingertips which, trust me, is never fun to clean off your remaining skin.

He wears what might be considered to be “rock” fashion: dark, ripped jeans, leather jackets, band tees, studded bracelets, and dyes the tips of his black hair different colors. He likes jewelry for no particular reason and feels comfortable in usually anything but a suit. His eyes, a dark, smoldering gray, often change darker and lighter depending on his mood.

playby , jayy von monroe.

littledeathsinmusicalbeds.
( soitseemsi'msomeonei'venevermet! )

likes ,

fire. smoking. fighting. horror movies. loud music. adventure. sex. alcohol. guitar.

dislikes ,

lower-classmen. bugs. ambulances. suits. white. confinement. dust. people touching his eyes. squirrels.

strengths ,

seduction (lol, fo srs).
......strength.
murder?
does being a douche count?

weaknesses ,

being a douche.
idiocy.
strippers.
POPCORN!

fears ,

water.
mini-fish. serious as hell.
something happening to sam.

quirks ,

talks in his sleep.
flirts with EVERYONE.
seems to be his goal in life to make people feel awkward.
and to beat the shit out of everyone. it’s fun.

secrets ,

he’d give anything to be an angel.
he cut his father when he was five.
his father almost drowned him.

general ,

back off;; Ezra gets aggravated (really, really) easily. That’s the first thing you need to know about him (other than the fact that he’s the biggest slut you’ll ever meet). If you really piss him off, you’ll know it—I mean, other than the fact that your face will be shoved into a brick wall and your arm twisted behind your back, the fire behind his eyes is impossible to miss. The one thing that is an easy way to getting your ass kicked is talking about his mother (and not the whole “yo momma” shit. Seriously, that’s lame). He curses a lot, but not because he’s pissed off at the world; it’s more out of habit than anger.

trusts instincts;; Honestly, you could come up with fifty different examples of how bad it would be to go down the path that says Massacre Canyon, but no—if a friend says that it’s a safe route to go, it’s a safe route to go. There’s no changing his mind. Ezra tends to follow his instinct rather than looking at a situation logically, which may or may not be a good thing (situations always seem to turn out for the better, though).

attention whore;; Ezra basically does whatever he can to grab the attention of This section has been taken over by Ezra. (; That’s right. I’m writing. Now, as you’re lingering on my every word, I’d like to tell you that whoever this bitch is who thinks she knows me is wrong. Wrongwrongwrong. I am NOT an attention whore. I just think that the world should know every single amazing aspect of *me*. Now let me go finish texting you guys these secksynekkid pictures of Sam.

gutsy;; The kids either has a whole lot of guts, or he’s just plain stupid (highly debated issue). He’s never backed out on something because he was afraid or because he thought it was a bad idea. Not sure if that’s courage or severe lack of common sense. If you’ve known Ezra for more than five minutes, you’d say it’s a good mix of both, but definitely leaning more to the stupidity side of the story.

new over old;; Really, why stick to what you know when there’s so much more out there? Learning new tricks, skills, shortcuts (hell, anything) to Ezra Hart is far more interesting than dwelling on old things. Besides, if you’ve already perfected or mastered an art, why not move on to another subject? He vowed to learn something new every day, whether it be how far he could climb up the tree at the edge of the forest or what the new guy’s phone number is.

betrayal;; He can’t help it, but one way or another he usually ends up hurting those near him. There used to be times where he tried to intervene, but there always seemed to be that one asshole that screwed everything up. Eventually he gave into it, the thrill that he got when he crushed a heart (metaphorically, though literally it was kind of fun, too) in his fingers. It was like leading someone up a roller coaster, the intensity he put into his work—only when they fell, it was painfully slow, like torture (like

WHOOORREEE;; ...Well that pretty much says it all. After seeing things such as break-ups and fights between parents, he’s afraid of falling in love. What he’s certainly not afraid of is having sex with any gorgeous passerby (or hot, reasonable, mildly-okay-looking, or—fuck. Any living person will do, really). One-night stands are all he can handle, really, and when he wants someone, he’ll get them—no matter what their sexual preference is (long and, frankly, entertaining story).

spontaneous;; ...Shit, where did Ezra go? One minute he’s in the dining hall, picking on one of the freshmen for the stupid thing they just said about demons, and the next he’s in town, texting someone about the latest party. The actions he makes are always on a whim. He enjoys “winging it” and generally living in the moment; he finds that if you do what you feel, and you say what you think, you’ll get much more out of life. Impulses are his life. So, if you have something to tell him, better hurry up and get it out. No telling where he’s going with that mind of his.

idon'tcarewhatyouthink.
( aslongasit'saboutme! )

favorite cereal , life.
deal or no deal , NO DEAL!
if confronted by the living dead , not again.

wordsofwisdomfortheweary.
( seewhogetsitintheend )

hometown , hamburg.
family ,

michael hart. (father)
alessandra davie. (mother)
casey davie / tia engel. (sister)

pets , puppy and kitty, the turtles.
best memory , when sam told him he loved him.
worst memory , watching sam die.
history ,

Alessandra Davie hadn’t planned on becoming a hooker. It was that damned Robbie Lewis, she told herself. He made her go down that path. He started her need for cigarettes, he was the cause of her ceasing education, he stole the money she saved for college, and he was the one who caused her to go to bars all night and drink her sorrow away. He, in her mind, was how she met Michael Hart. Michael Hart hadn’t exactly planned on being a father, either. He had too much to risk: the perfect job, the perfect wife, the perfect family—the perfect life. But Alessandra Davie was too much to ignore.

Ezra’s name came from the bartender that had served their first round. Alessandra would have named him Michael had she any inclination to remember him, which she certainly didn’t, and she wasn’t particularly one for names, so Ezra it was. Then again, Alessandra didn’t really care either way. She spent most of her son’s childhood drinking, smoking, and bringing home new boyfriends every week. Often times Ezra would find himself face to face with his math teacher in the morning. By the time he was twelve years old, his mother had dated the entire male faculty at his old school.

One of the worst things about the day of his birth was that Alessandra refused to let him know when his birthday was, as if it was some sort of sick pleasure that he wasn’t allowed to have. He’d try to ask questions aimed at finding out around which time he was born. Of course, his mother would frequently change her answers and lie as often as possible. As he was home-schooled for most of his life, he had no one at a regular school to perhaps help him find his date of birth. When signing up for things such as a driver’s license, he had to use his mother’s birthday, April 19th. It was something that would confuse Ezra for the rest of his life.

He discovered two of his powers when he was five: wielding metal and magnetism. He was sitting in the backyard of the auto shop, making a toy out of a broken bottle (a sight that often occurred, much along with ripped playing cards), when a piece of metal shot out from underneath a broken pile of junk and pinned a bird to the brick wall. Ezra became obsessed with moving things such as that and creating magnetic fields out of free will. One day in his five year-old life, when he was eating goldfish in the kitchen, he heard loud yelling coming from upstairs. Curse words flew threw the air, and what sounded like pieces of furniture were also thrown. A man came downstairs, unknown to Ezra at the time—his father. Michael Hart had come back for another fling with Alessandra. Ezra, crying as Michael came into the kitchen beating his mother, closed his eyes and called for a magnetic field.

Michael Hart was stabbed seven times in his leg. Still bleeding, he dragged the sobbing boy upstairs and attempted to drown him. Thankfully Alessandra, who revealed her power to be telekinesis, managed to get the man out of her apartment. They never heard of Ezra again. Fearing for her child’s health, Alessandra shipped him for a few weeks to her mother Evangeline’s home.

Evangeline was a demon as well. She wielded air and ice, had a habit of telling it to you straight, and held rule in her house with an iron fist. She also held a great interest in elves and took joy in gardening and spending her time outside. She was not a woman to be messed with, but she was the kindest of her kind that you would ever meet. He spent most of his afternoons painstakingly helping her in the vast yard. The yard must have been the most expensive thing he’d ever seen in his life. It seemed to stretch on forever, and the flowers that curled up around every twist and turn were of various colors and shapes. The caretaker of this garden was his uncle, Jasper Davie.

Jasper had initially been hired as a way to lift his spirits from the recent death of his wife. If there was anything that could save him, Evangeline reasoned, it would be hard work and the comfort of a family. Jasper moved into the guest house at the far side of the garden and vowed to keep it beautiful as long as he lived. Like Ezra cared. He was six years old and only wanted to play with real toys and real children, not the fake ones that Jasper created for him out of illusion. He’d never had a real friend, and at this point in his life, it didn’t seem like he was going to get one.

He moved back into the apartment when he was eight. By this time Alessandra had another child: Casey. She had abandoned Casey, leaving her on the step of a home of what seemed to be a wealthy family. They moved within four months, seeing as they needed a larger apartment space for the baby. Ezra discovered he had a sister by the photo that Alessandra kept under her dresser, in the box full of old, private matters that she didn’t want to deal with. He had gotten the information out of his mother, threatening her with a violent death. He didn’t particularly care for his mother—or, he didn’t want to; part of him did love her. Ezra moved out of the apartment again when he was fifteen, seeking refuge at Winterthorne. He’s now living in an apartment outside of the Castle.

So, he was basically at a lack for parental figures in his life—well, if you didn’t count Tyler. Tyler, a nineteen year-old who worked at one of the local record stores, gave him the best advice of his life: see who gets it in the end.

we'rethepartyyou'rethepeople.
( let'smakethisnightaclassic! )

password , boohoo, i'm the admin.
sample post ,

boohoo, I'M THE ADMIN.

andthat'swhatmakesmylifesofuckingfantastic.

okay, so this application
is a fusion of our old one and an
application made by AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !?
of blank pages. don't steal, cause
that's RUDE. lyrics go
to A BUNCH OF PEOPLE,
but they're not ours. and, lastly,
don't stretch the board.
it's NOT COOL.

[SAV SAVVINGTON]

i accept myself. (: