Post by ashton reinhart on Sept 22, 2012 18:33:58 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 460px; padding: 10px; background-color: #e1e1e1; border-top: 10px #FF6E67 solid; border-bottom: 10px #FF6E67 solid;] [STYLE=float: left; width: 100px; height: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/CP01N.png); box-shadow: 5px 5px 0px #FF6E67; margin-right: 10px; position: absolute; z-index: 3; ] [/style] [STYLE=font-family: 'arial narrow'; font-size: 35px; color: #FF6E67; letter-spacing: -3px; padding-left: 30px; ]ASHTON C. REINHART[/style] [STYLE=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; margin-top: -8px; background-color: #f1f1f1; text-align: center; position: relative; z-index: 2; margin-left: 100px; color: #464646; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; letter-spacing: 1px; ]MCKINLEY STUDENT[/style] [STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; margin-top: 5px; background-color: #f1f1f1; text-align: center; position: relative; z-index: 2; margin-left: 100px; color: #464646; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; letter-spacing: 1px; ]this character is played cake[/style] [STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; margin-top: 5px; background-color: #f1f1f1; text-align: center; position: relative; z-index: 2; margin-left: 100px; color: #464646; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; letter-spacing: 1px; ]in this cliched story there must be only one ending [/style] [STYLE=margin-top: 30px; font-family: 'arial narrow'; font-size: 25px; color: #FF6E67; letter-spacing: -3px; padding-left: 8px;] PERSONAL INFORMATION[/style] [STYLE=background-color: #f1f1f1; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #FF6E67 solid; border-bottom: 5px #FF6E67 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #535353; margin-top: -6px; ] [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] NICKNAME:[/style] most people just call her Ash, as is preferred if at all possible. she typically will not answer to her middle name, Cassidy, unless the person is family member. [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] AGE:[/style] seventeen [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] GENDER:[/style] female [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] GRADE/OCCU:[/style] tenth grade on account of having dropped out of school for a year. as for her occupation, ashton is embroiled in gang-related activity, typically nothing more than a delivery girl - albeit her cargo may or may not be legal. [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] SEXUALITY:[/style] bisexual [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] ETHNICITY:[/style] american, just your average, run of the mill mutt with no redeeming qualities.[/style] [STYLE=font-family: 'arial narrow'; font-size: 25px; color: #FF6E67; letter-spacing: -3px; padding-left: 8px;] PERSONALITY INFORMATION[/style] [STYLE=background-color: #f1f1f1; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #FF6E67 solid; border-bottom: 5px #FF6E67 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #535353; margin-top: -6px; ] [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] POSITIVE:[/style] → methodical → independent → nurturing → shrewd → industrious → ambitious → passionate → determined → resourceful → philanthropic → practical [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] NEGATIVE:[/style] → abrasive → truculent → dishonest → sarcastic → cynical → aggressive → uncooperative → spiteful → vindictive → self-conscious → reckless → aloof [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] LIKES:[/style]→ kung-fu flicks → medical programs → caramel flan → anime → sleeping → playing the guitar → old james bond movies → music → cats and dogs → high places → rainy days → getting paid → shooting games [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] DISLIKES:[/style] → birds → red meat → cold weather → brutish people → blatant ignorance → wastefulness → having to go to school → alcoholic beverages → people who want to 'save' her → enforcers of the law → being up in the wee hours of the morning → children [/style] [STYLE=font-family: 'arial narrow'; font-size: 25px; color: #FF6E67; letter-spacing: -3px; padding-left: 8px;] OTHER INFORMATION[/style] [STYLE=background-color: #f1f1f1; -moz-border-radius: 1em; -webkit-border-radius: 1em; border-top: 5px #FF6E67 solid; border-bottom: 5px #FF6E67 solid; padding: 10px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #535353; margin-top: -6px; ] [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] HISTORY:[/style] Ashton Cassidy Reinhart is just one of the many beautiful babies born in Farlax, CA but thankfully, had begun as one of those who would be much better off. Rather than living in the congested inner city limits, Ashton had the wonderful privilege of wealthy parents who made their home in a gated community. Her father was a reputable engineer who designed electronics for a living. Her mother was a real estate agent and something of a socialite who was friends with just about anyone with a big enough name. They were your typical moneybag parents who now had the perfect little addition to their family and they wouldn’t spare any expense to see that she was happy and comfortable. Everything from Chanel baby bags to Petit Tresor apparel, anything for little Ashton. Born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, growing up was loads of fun. Anything she expressed an interest in was virtually at her fingertips. She wanted to be a ballerina? Mom signed her up for ballet lessons. Bored of that and want to take Tae Kwon Do? Okay Dad, sign me up! No? Guitar lessons more your speed? Here’s a Fretless, enjoy. She was spoiled to her core and certainly thought she was better then all the other kids. Walking with her nose in the air and acting like a princess was how she worked and it worked for her so why change? New baby brother, that’s why. When Ashton was five the proud Reinhart’s welcomed William James Reinhart into the world and he was trouble. Ashton hated him on sight. She hid his blocks, dropped his pacifier in the sand and one time let the child scald his tongue on milk she heated too much. She was fiercely chastised for her childishness and constantly grumbled about not being the center of attention anymore. Thankfully, as egocentric as she was at that age, Ashton wasn’t all bad. It took her a few months but she got over her qualms. Maybe it was the cute way he would giggle, or how he would watch her from across the room and demand that she pick him up? Or maybe it was just the fact that he was her brother, her little brother, and would always look up to her. It was the start of a beautiful bond. Things were normal – well as normal as they can be when you’re loaded – and when Ashton entered high school she was naturally sent to Prep with all her high class friends. She was very proud to attend; being able to rub it in the faces of the McKinley kids was a nice perk too. She enjoyed herself there and thought that this was how her life would be. She already knew what she wanted to do when she was an adult, having discovered her love for medicine and after slapping band aids on every skinned knee and boo-boo since fifth grade, it was kind of obvious. All she had to do was pass high school with stellar marks and she could go into nursing. That was the plan anyway. It’s still unclear to her as to why this happened, who brought it to light, but one day authorities came to their home and ushered her father out and into a car. He didn’t return that night and later on the news it became clear why. Her father, for whatever reason, had been stealing company secrets, designed that hadn’t yet been patented, and had been selling them to their competitors. While his company took a dive from the loss of merchandise, he got a lovely sum of cash from those who were buying his five-finger discounts. The affiliated company was sued, peoples jailed, and her father made to face his crimes with a five year sentence and a hefty price of 2.1 million dollar in reparation money. They had that much but paying off the exuberant fine all but wiped them clean. They couldn’t keep their lifestyle. They sold jewelry, furniture, heirlooms and did what they could for as long as they could. But there was no avoiding the inevitable. No reputable company wanted to hire her father after that stunt and her mother could only sell so many houses to keep them afloat. Eventually, it was their house they sold before moving into the congested inner city. Ashton was withdrawn from Prep and much to her chagrin, enrolled in McKinley. It was as humiliating as it was a reprieve. After her father had been charged the other students, people who she thought had been friends, had started to shy away from her. Not all, but enough that she noticed their stares and whispers. But she still didn’t want to go to McKinley. It was a public school! Ashton refused to attend for a whole year under the excuse that if she went there directly after what had happened she would be ridiculed and isolated. Her mother, stressed as she was, allowed it. Mom, working two jobs, did what she could to support her family. Ashton didn’t do much to help since she was still stuck in her princess faze but was quickly realizing that things weren’t going to change. Things would be different now. She didn’t like different. The saving grace for her dilemma was her little brother, five years younger than her but coping with his new middle school without a fuss. She grudgingly listened to him and started going to school the following year. Ashton turned sixteen before the start of her year officially began. She resented that she was a freshman again but couldn’t really argue the point since she hadn’t been able to finish her first year at Prep and had prolonged her absence from school another twelve months afterward. It was kind of difficult not to fall into old habits. A former Private student and heiress to a fortune, she couldn’t connect with their everyday problems and held most of her new peers in contempt. They in turn seemed to notice – whether because they remembered her name or just didn’t like her attitude – that she wasn’t going to be one of those girls who opened up and began making friends. It kept on like that for a while and the loneliness and feeling of isolation began to whittle away at her hard exterior enough that she did try reaching out every so often. At home she had become quiet – save for when her brother initiated conversation – and help an irrational disdain for her mother that she couldn’t quite explain or reason with. But despite this, when money became an issue Ashton took up the big sister/eldest child mantle and got a job at a convenience store. It didn’t last long. The hours sucked and the pay doubly so, the only good that came of It was meeting a guy who came by regularly for cigarettes and energy drinks who seemed taken with the quiet, boyish looking girl who wouldn’t let the irritable customers badger her. He’d been sitting in front of the store the day that Ashton was fired after assaulting a customer with a slushie after he’d called her a bitch. He told her that if she didn’t have any scruples about working under the radar that he could offer her a job. Three days later Ashton was another grunt working for the locale gang, running back and forth correspondence or delivering packages with contents she knew nothing about. She started attending school less and less, got into fights with her mother, stayed out late or didn’t come home at all, slept in abandoned buildings, started drinking, smoked, learned to gamble. All the vices that she would have turned her nose up at and said she would never do. But the money she earned she would sneak into her mothers clothes, into her brothers wallet, were a constant. When asked where she was getting her money from she would ignore the question and leave to do whatever and come back like a stray cat in the night. The morning rituals were repeated. She sauntered through the door at close to four in the morning, retreated to her room and caught a few hours of sleep before the alarm from her brother’s room woke her. She’d roll over and twenty minutes later William would walk in and ask the same question: “Are you going to school today?” and as always the answer was: “Sure.” And like so many days before this one she would choose not to attend. It should have been like clockwork, their pattern undisturbed. But the school collapsed. That tenuous stability that they shared was upset by a few thousand tons of cement and twisted metal. McKinley High School had been reduced to a mountain of rubble, stealing the lives of so many people…while Ashton sat on a worn living room couch eating cheerio’s and watching cartoons. She didn’t even know what had happened. She never watched the news and the only thing she listened to was an MP3 player. The blare of sirens was ignored entirely, chalking it up to being the result of another gang skirmish somewhere in the city. It wasn’t until the sun had set behind the apartment complex that she even began to wonder why nobody had come home. Her brother, the golden child, hadn’t walked through the door and it was well past seven in the evening. Although she knew that he had stayed after for the Decathlon, he would have phoned them if he had decided to stay out later than six. The fact that there had been no word prompted Ashton to call her brother and was sent directly to voicemail. Belatedly she noted that her mother had blown up her phone since she had a dozen missed calls but ignored it while phoned one of his friends and was met with the same issue. Both worried and irritated, she texted her mother. Seconds later her mother called, furious and obviously crying into the receiver. Despite the babbling and tearful speech Ashton could make out that something had happened to the school, her brother had been hospitalized and the word ‘coma’. She was still in her pajamas when she hopped on her bike and pedaled in the direction of nearest hospital. Upon arrival she was floored by the amount of people in the lobby. Group after group of crying people, doctors and nurses scurrying in and out of sight, orderlies restraining people – and the flat screen in the corner broadcasting the horrific scene of the decimated school building with workers still frantically trying to sort through the debris and save those trapped underneath. Her brother had been at school today. It didn’t seem real and she barely remembered speaking to the receptionist or taking the stairs because the elevator was too slow, sprinting down the hall, people yelling at her for it, so much of the transition was lost as she searched out her brother’s room. And when she found it? She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. William sitting up in bed with a few bruises, trying to assure their mother that he was okay and then smiling that smile of his when she walked in. Yeah, that’s what she’d wanted to see. What she got instead was the sound of a respirator, the machine breathing for him, the eerie beep of a heart monitor, and then a backhand that sent her to the floor and had a nurse shrieking somewhere. She almost didn’t hear her mother’s tirade and accusations as she looked at the battered and bandaged form on the bed. Ashton almost didn’t hear how she was a ‘useless child’ how her mother wished it had been her in the bed instead of him. Orderlies retrained her and led her out of the room to calm down and a nurse tried to help her up but Ashton refused the offer and simply moved to her brother’s bedside. With all the medical knowledge that she had, none of it seemed to want to help her read his charts or let her see things objectively. By the time her mother returned Ashton had taken up a post beside the window. She tried to apologize for what she had said but Ashton gave no indication that she heard of cared about what she had to say. They lapsed into silence and then fell asleep. Come morning Ashton was gone – she couldn’t keep looking at her mangled, unresponsive sibling anymore. She tried to shove all the aches into a little box as she did everything else about her life but her brother refused to stay in isolation. Morning would never be the same now. Her brother’s alarm wouldn’t go off, he wouldn’t wake her up or ask her if she was going to school, it was different. She didn’t like different. She spent the next several days in a sort of haze. Functioning but not at the capacity most were used to seeing – particularly her fellow gang affiliates. Surprisingly, some sympathized with her, others called her out for her womanly emotions and told her to man up. The majority seemed content to overlook the whole ordeal since they had other things to worry about. Business would be stunted because of the tragedy and they would need to find new routes to turn a profit. They expected her to continue on her own jobs as per usual and Ashton did as ordered. Her week was sluggish and grueling even though she was used to the work assigned to her. She found herself too drained most days to make the journey home from across town so she’d crash with other members of the gang or would go to the slums and shack up in one of the more stable abandoned buildings for a night. The news was always the same. Coverage of the tragedy at Mckinley High was like the media flare that had gone on for Princess Diana. She desensitized herself, it made the event easier to watch as the body count rose and more tearful reunions were had. But one thing that did not change was her visits to her brother. He was off the respirator which she had taken as a reassuring sign but he still hadn’t moved. She would always make time on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s to see him, talk to him, and encourage him to wake up. She left each time disappointed but still maintained the new ritual. As the community picked itself back up and the announcement went out that all the McKinley kids would be going to Prep, she almost begged someone to shoot her. She couldn’t go back. The daughter of a deposed engineer going back to her former school was a sentence worth than death and she had no intention of going. And then she would remember her brother, strung up on all kinds of wires and unable to do the things that had made her smile. He’d have wanted her to go, she reasoned – albeit he’d wanted her to go to McKinley as well but she’d only barely attended that. It took her another three days of deliberation before she finally dragged her heels through the iron gates that she used to take such pride in crossing. [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] FEARS:[/style] → losing her little brother → getting in trouble with the higher ups → taking a life [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] HOBBIES:[/style] → cooking when the opportunity arises → reading medical books → wandering the city → skipping class → avoiding Prep students → collecting bottle caps [STYLE=background-color: #FF4840; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: f1f1f1; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; width: 100px;] FACECLAIM:[/style] tsubomi, kido – reinhart, ashton [kagerou project][/style] by rimy ♥ of btn! |
