Vinnie Taylors-Birch, Former Capitolite, now Wanderer, FIN

Meghan
Capitol Resident

1,217 POSTS

Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 26, 2023 2:53:00 GMT -5

Vinnie Taylors-Birch, Former Capitolite, now Wanderer, FIN Feb 21, 2013 1:01:34 GMT -5

Post by Meghan on Feb 21, 2013 1:01:34 GMT -5

Name: Vincent "Vinnie" Taylors
Age: 31 as of 77th
Gender: Male
District/Area: Formerly the Capitol, now Wanderer
Appearance:

NAME SUBJECT TO CHANGE YO.

Personality:

YEAH I'MMA THE COOLEST ~~MOST ARROGANT~~ MOTHAF*CKA AROUND AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOW IT. YEAH, I MIGHT LOOK LIKE SOME LOSA TRIBUTE FROM THE MOST RECENT HUNGER GAMES BUT HE IS DEAD BRO. BURIED SIX FEET UNDA AND THERE AIN'T NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT CUZ THAT'S LIFE YKNOW? ~~IMAY HAVE SPONSORED HIS LITTLE LOVER LOSER WHO GOT HIM KILLED ALL MY MONEY BECAUSE WE MIGHT BE BROTHERS OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT BUT YOU DIDN'T HEAR IT FROM ME.~~ BITCHES AND HOES WISH THEY HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO RIDE THESE PANTS BUT I AM MARRIED TO MY JOB SO BACK OFF LADIES I'M UNAVAILABLE. I'MMA JUNIOR BILLIONAIRE BITCHES AND THERE AIN'T NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME FROM RISING TO THE TOP OF THIS GODDAMN POLITICAL SEXY SANDWICH OF POISON OR SOME SHIT LIEK THAT. I AM DESTINED TO BE A TOP DAWG YO.

History:

I BE THE FINEST CAPITOLITE YOU EVER GONNA MEET AND IF YOU DENY IT IMMA GET MY FORTY MEN TO CUT CHU OR SOMETHING. I DON'T HAVE TIME TO CARE ABOUT LOWLIFES LIKE YOU I GOT MY LIFE TO LIVE. MY PARENTS ARE COOL AND ALL BUT I SPENT MOST OF MY CHILDHOOD LIVING IN THE POCKET ~~AND HELPING OUT IN...OTHER WAYS~~ THE POLITICIANS AND BUSINESSMEN OF THIS GLAMOROUS CITY IN ORDER TO GAIN A FEW BUCKS AND GLORY. MY ENTIRE LIFE IS CENTERED AROUND THIS JOB AND I AIN'T NEVA GIVING IT UP FOR NO HOE ~~NOT EVEN MY LONG LOST TWINZIES MKAY? MKAY.~~

Codeword: O HAI DAIR
Comments/Other:

oh god how the fudge did this boy enter my mind I must be crazy.

Last Edit: Nov 13, 2017 15:18:27 GMT -5 by Meghan

Meghan
Capitol Resident

1,217 POSTS

Pronouns: she/they
last seen Nov 26, 2023 2:53:00 GMT -5

Vinnie Taylors-Birch, Former Capitolite, now Wanderer, FIN Mar 30, 2013 11:36:39 GMT -5

Post by Meghan on Mar 30, 2013 11:36:39 GMT -5

[atrb=background,http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg608/meghanpawolfe/VinnieBackdrop2_zps89d9913f.png][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,width:500px;]

Vincent "Vinnie" Taylors,
at your service.

.:n a m e:. vincent "vinnie" taylors
.:a g e:. ~~seventeen.~~ ~~eighteen~~ ~~nineteen~~ twenty as of 66th
.:d i s t r i c t:. the capitol.
.:o r i e n t a t i o n:. absolutely everything. ~~used and abused~~.
.:o c c u p a t i o n:. aspiring businessman and politician. ~~but really, he's a prostitute.~~

[/color]

.:a p p e a r a n c e:.

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but if that was the case, then everyone must be holding onto the same thing. For if the rumors are even close to the truth, then I am the sexiest thing to ever grace this earth. Maybe it's the wind, but my feathery hair always seems to be covering my dark eyes with just a hint of mystery and playfulness, as if it was calling to my lovers, you think you understand me, but really you don't. I am their greatest mystery for I am an enigma even to myself. One day, not long ago, or perhaps it was only yesterday, I took a moment to stare at myself in the mirror after a shower ~~and don't assume I just do that all the time okay~~. I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Sure, I have the broad shoulders and tall frame that frequented the ranks of the most handsome of men, but they were littered with scratches and scars from the times it got just a little too rough for my taste. But who cares, it only adds to my mystery. For the most part, nature blessed me with muscles from all the times I had lifted things above my head to impress some client or another. They demanded perfection, and it was perfection that I was forced to deliver in order to keep up the good name of my reputation. Yet, when they finally had me in arms reach, they insisted on driving a nail through that perfection in attempt to bring me closer to their level, to force me to become human.

There is one scar, just above my left eyebrow that I obtained during a particularly nasty excursion in the depths of an office building. A man, probably about twice my age, thought it would be funny to lure me into his office with promises of the CEO's phone number. He had quickly pushed me to my knees and had tied my hands behind my back, but instead of this scenario resulting in its typical outcome, he had drove a pocket knife from hairline to my eyebrow with one swift motion. Then he spat on me, calling me a worthless piece of shit, before shoving the number into my open mouth and throwing me out of his office. Shame had washed over me that day, but I could only crawl back to my parents house with some bullshit story of falling over and hitting a brick wall or something. I couldn't take myself to get examined for that would be letting the man get to me, and as a result, I had never quite healed.

I generally held myself with swagger and charm. A cocky smile to the girl next door one day, a wink and a handshake to a tough teacher the next. I was the star of everyone's show, and they knew it. It seemed like lovebirds flocked to me the minute I exited my house, and my heart turned somersaults as I thought about the attention. Oh, how they loved to give me attention. Even bad attention, hate, torture was good attention to an attention-whore like me. I reveled in it and my audience was only too willing to grant it. We walked hand in hand everyday, my long slender fingers gripping attention's wide open ones.

If attention was what I wanted, attention was what I got. When I was sixteen, I had ignored the calls of a crazy, clingy politician I had bedded in order to study for my final exams at school. I probably could have dropped out, but what was the point? Having good grades in school could only push my reputation even farther, and it kept up the lies I had been feeding my parents constantly. But the politician didn't agree, and she made her disagreement known by storming into the glitzy Capitol library I had made residence in, and with a surprising display of strength tore the chair I had been sitting on from underneath me and slammed it into my right leg as hard as she possibly could.

My bones had fractured, and it took an emergency run to the shadiest doctor my contacts had access to for it to get set back in place. My screams had echoed throughout his dingy office, and as I left, leg bundled and tears still streaming from my eyes, he handed me a wooden cane with a brief instruction to just use it. That cane had stayed faithfully by my side since, only serving to open up a new range of clients I hadn't before experienced, those who pitied the weak. I used them like I had used the rest of them. In the end, the cane had only helped me.

I never did tell my parents why that lady attacked me...but they never told me who I really was, so I guess it was a fair trade.

But I have lost sense of myself, and now, when I look in the mirror, despite the obvious differences such as my scars or the lazy eye, all I can see staring back at me is my brother, and he is dead.

.:p e r s o n a l i t y:.

Conniving, cunning, wonderful, sly, these are all words the puppets have used to describe me throughout my life. Some things they shout at me between the covers, and others, others they shout as I past them in the street on my way to school. They think they're clever, and they think I care. I would hardly call my quick wink and toothy grin an action of someone who cares, but they can pretend all they want. I am who I say I am, and they are who they say they are, not the other way around.

If I want to say I'm the funniest man around, I will, ~~but that doesn't mean it's true. now does it?~~ I certainly am charming, I can seduce the men and I can seduce the women, and not in just the way you're assuming right now, you pervert. I am the thunder in the sky and the raindrops in the dark alley, my words echo in their ears after a heavy whisper or an breathy mumble. Their hearts are an open book to me, and I can adapt and transform to whatever they desire. But does that make me easy to get along with? Hardly. Unless I like you, you're going to get a cold shoulder and a footprint as I make my way up the social ladder.

I am the socialite, and my minions are calling to me. Peers? Is that what you think they are? Hardly! Peers would mean they are equal to me, and my classmates certainly aren't equal to me. I am miles above them, and yes, perhaps I am arrogant, but I know my place in the world. I know who I am. ~~At least, I think I do.~~ I am Vinnie Taylors, a Capitolite, a businessman, and I am nobody's friend. Not yours, not my clients, not the businessmen or politicians above me. I am not even my own friend, because being someone's friend would mean you like that person. and I certainly don't like who I have become.

I am a liar and I don't care. I have hurt people to get to where I am, and it doesn't bother me. I have hurt myself, and if my poor parents knew, I'd hurt them too. I am not the boy I was meant to be when I crawled from my mother's womb ~~but was she really my mother~~. I have become twisted and spiteful, I am falling, falling, falling and I can't seem to find my feet. I am nothing.

Nothing. Such a funny concept. Yet, it becomes me. I am nothing.

I am nothing.

I am absolutely and utterly nothing.

And that makes me so powerful.

.:h i s t o r y:.

Life as a Capitolite was never as easy as the photos that were in the books poured over by innocent-eyed little children had imagined it to be, and truthfully, that shit was just wiped clean with new propaganda every generation. I felt it too, as a wee little one who was still trying to ride my mother's leg like a train, dragging her along through the house with a chorus of babbles and laughs springing from my lips. She had encouraged these misconceptions, piling them onto my shoulders more and more each day even as I stooped over from the expectation already. Given time, I would learn to pick my way through the glass fields and breath in anything that had the word benefit plastered onto its cold, metal surface. I was the boy ordained in gold and blue, with twinkling eyes and just a dice of manipulation. The world was in my hands, no matter how many politicians I had to bed or lives I had to ruin.

The avox I had lost myself to had hardly screamed when I took her body as my own. The bastards had dues to pay, even at the ripe young age of fourteen that I was, at the moment, sitting firmly at. I had stolen their secrets, and they owed me, god damn't. I knew that in order to be considered anywhere near respectable, I had to learn to suck the will of other people from their unworthy lips and shower it upon my reputation. I had stolen her and she belonged to me. They had delivered her, hands tied, to the abandoned shop I had specified. That night, I became a man as she became my victim. If you could call her that. An avox was hardly worth humanizing, they were criminals after all, and what kind of self-respecting man associated himself with criminals ~~other than to use them of course~~?

I climbed their petty ladder with ease, offering only my body as payment to their demands. If I served them, surely they would serve me. I could remember the first time one of their conniving foxes tested my eagerness to succeed. That fancy-ass businessman who I really just aspire to be someday asked me to get on my knees. I was shocked at first, why would they want me? But the reason became increasingly clear and I humored him. Perhaps the only reason I did is because I know submitting to him would get me more benefits then the average citizen. I had inside access to their secrets right there, and boy would I get to use them. Or maybe I lost all respect for myself the moment the avox had touched my lips. Was I as worthless as she had implied during her struggle? Everyday I was thankful that the assholes in the mightiest of positions had enough common sense to cut out their tongues, for I knew she held they key to my soul. and it was my soul that I was afraid of.

Life journeyed on, and I continued to seduce and be seduced by the finest men and women of the Capitol. They had power, and they had money. At first it was only a few pennies for my trouble, but as my reputation grew and the world realized that I was special, my rates increased. I could learn to talk the reluctance out of the shyest of secretaries and squeeze it into my bank account. My wealth grew as theirs shattered, tricked by my good services, by my celebrity. I became their master and they became my slaves, handing me money as they begged for me to grace them with just a moment of my presence. It was funny what a handsome young man could do to the most arrogant of fools.

They thought me stupid, sometimes, I overheard them whispering it at meetings as I lurked beneath the table, paid for by some obscene politician or another. Perhaps they felt that they had been tricked somehow, shortened in a deal or cheated in an agreement, and they thought they had the power to pull the strings. It was funny, really, how your puppets don't realize when a well placed word or a subtle pull in a certain direction could change their lives. I was the puppeteer lurking in the shadows, and they were absolutely hopeless. Was it any surprise that I was destined to rise above them? I was their trophy, after all. and we all know where you display trophies. above you and above all others.

I was above them, and they didn't even realize it. As time passed, I emerged from their shadows and began to create a new name for myself. A suit and tie were not uncommon when I swooped into the glamour of their parties. Their cash had no meaning to me on those rare nights, and my mingling was for once, not for their benefit. The ones in power ate me right up, not realizing the means of my presence, but not really caring for I was charismatic and handsome as hell. They loved me, and the ones who I had climbed on and seduced to get to this moment were already forgotten. And soon enough, my charm would fall over them too, and they would become the lost ones.

My existence was perfect during that time, and I thought nothing could shatter it.

Until I saw him. and. they saw him. He was alive, he was promising, he was their tribute. And he was my twin brother. My life stopped.

and down, down, down it fell as I realized my reality. I was not the boy I had thought myself to be, and not only did I know that, but they knew that and they tried to shun me. I became district scum, an outsider simply because of my mysterious relation to the boy from two. Questions crescendoed in my already weakening mind as I scurried from person to person in a weak attempt to convince them of my worthiness. Does he have a family? Who are his parents ~~or I guess I should say our parents~~ and why did they abandon me? How did I end up in this city, anyway? What the hell happened?

I lay in ruins, and in despair I sat and watched him play the audience, to seduce them, and the little doubt I held firmly in my mind had dispersed. There was nothing he could be than my brother, born in the same year and presumably, at the same time, cast onto the games in order to ruin everything I worked for. I never felt so truly alone as I had in that moment, and I secretly vowed to do everything to keep his heart beating. I was his secret and he would never know.

The death that his enemies so mercilessly pulled from within him was the cruelest thing I had ever seen or felt. Can you imagine it? Realizing that the sinking feeling you had always felt of being alone and wanting to be wanted and known was supposed to be fulfilled through your lifeblood, your twin brother? The boy you must have wrestled with within the womb and shared your first nine months with was presented to the crowd in front of you, and there was nothing you could do the reach him, to rescue him. He had earned his fate by being born, a fate you should have shared but somehow, somewhere a god had been watching over you and had rescued you from that fate. Only to have the last connection to your outside world torn to pieces before your eyes, broadcast on national television, all while you're surrounded by clucks of disappointment as the promising brute from two failed to live up to his legacy.

I didn't think so. I couldn't even imagine that. Yet, there it was, that was my reality. And they knew. Perhaps they didn't say anything because they pitied me, but they were well aware of the fact that we were related. How could they not be? WE ARE IDENTICAL FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.

For the first time in my entire life, hate poured into my bones and entwined with my core. They had killed him, they had killed my brother and it was turn to get revenge. I made a pact with satan himself to take them down, to rise to power of them and to destroy their every last drop of happiness. I launched into double time as I forced myself to accept their fate and reject their love. They lost their entire identity as I drove through it, molded them into objects of my own pleasure and forced them to do my will. We had lost the connection we once had as I became ravenous with this newfound power.

One by one, they will drop, and they will fall. One by one, they will die and I will rise. One by one, they will march into Hell. And who will be there to greet them? Cassius Birch.

[/center][/justify]

.:c o d e w o r d:. oDair
.:f a c e c l a i m:. lee kholafai.
.:s o n g:. good feeling, flo rida.
.:p l o t s:.sibling snatchers.

[/blockquote][/size]

Sometimes I get a good feeling
I get a feeling that I never had before
I get a good feeling
Yes I can, doubt that I leave, I'm running with this plan
Pull me, grab me, crabs in the bucket can't have me
I'll be the president one day.

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Word Count: 2969

Last Edit: Feb 6, 2014 1:24:16 GMT -5 by Meghan

Meghan Capitol Resident 1,217 POSTS Pronouns: she/they last seen Nov 26, 2023 2:53:00 GMT -5	Vinnie Taylors-Birch, Former Capitolite, now Wanderer, FIN Apr 1, 2013 23:52:07 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Meghan on Apr 1, 2013 23:52:07 GMT -5 I'm done! Not completely satisfied with him, but I suppose he's good enough. ^^ Let me know if I need to change or add anything, thanks!

Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] Retired Staff 6,346 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him last seen Nov 17, 2023 15:15:56 GMT -5 cozy, queer af	Vinnie Taylors-Birch, Former Capitolite, now Wanderer, FIN Apr 1, 2013 23:57:09 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Apr 1, 2013 23:57:09 GMT -5 Accepted! [/center]
	warehouse