Hardmyer, Dameon Jamie

[dameon]

Character Name: Dameon Jamie Hardmyer
Nickname(s): D.J.
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Sexuality: Straight
Grade: Sophomore
College: Central
Other:
Major: Law
Weight: 236 lb (107 kg)
Height: 6 ft 2 in (1.88 m)
Appearance:

Growing up in a military settlement left few options for Dameon's youth in terms of entertainment. There were 3 things he could spend most of the day doing. Work, sports or Ecology. Dameon wasn't much for plants, so he played sports almost religiously. Football mostly, amature league, just a bunch of guys throwing their weight around, and knocking the wind out of each other. But it was enough to keep him in shape. When he left to be on his own, without a 12th grade education, all of his jobs were physical labour. Construction, clear cutting, mining, basically anything that needed someone to lift something, carry it, drop it, and do it again.

Coming from a family with a history of tall, broad shouldered military men, he was naturally fit for the stereotype. He's fit, expected to most likely be a football player, or some other sort of jock. It's clear he works out on a regular basis, which is both for his health and for his inevitable application to the military. He has a dirty brown hair cut, often naturally messy looking and spiked out, either due to a slight amount of gel or bed head. It's a short, straight hair style, one that he tends to come by honestly, rarely ever needing to style it beyond the aforementioned half palmful of hair gel some mornings. He avoids shaving whenever he can, but won't let himself grow a full beard. He has a semi-grung look to him, always having facial hair, ranging from scruff to at least five o'clock shadow. His eyes are set at a dark blue, clear and almost always bright and alert, rarely squinting. He has a clean, groomed complexion with, surprisingly enough, a farmer's tan, rather then the full body tan that many men in California would bother to get.

His choice in clothing is hardly what you'd call stylish or popular. Most often wearing blank shirts and denim jeans or shorts, if his clothing ever has a design on it, it's rarely one for a company or label. He does have a few sets of camoflauged pants and shirts, mostly tight fitting as they're a couple years old now. His shoes increase his height by an inch or so, but only because of their design to improve posture, so when barefoot, he appears to be slightly more than an inch shorter. No matter what clothing he's wearing, there are two things he wears at all times, his mother's ring and his father's dog tags.

Personality:

His father was a military man, so DJ had been raised with a strict set of morals and respect for authority. As he hit puberty, much of that respect turned into resentment and he became increasingly rebellious and spent most of his time trying to get away from them. While he's mostly mature, there are times, with the right prodding, that he can take that attitude on again, he's not the type to leave the stick up his ass all the time.

When his father passed away, Dameon was forced to take on a lot of adult responsibilities at a young age, maturing quickly out of necessity. Despite this, he still had the instincts of a young man, and often wanted to go out and do things on his own. His father's beliefs are much of his own, but he handles them differently. While believing in the same ethics, his code of conduct is different. While he studies law, he plans to join JAG once he graduates, or at least attempt to, as he plans to enroll in the military one way or another.

While not a health nut, Dameon tends to avoid doing things that he'll regret to his body. He's avoided getting tattoos, piercings or doing any sort of drug. He likes to drink, since that was one of the few things people on a military base are permitted to do for fun, and it's one of his vices. Despite this, he tends to avoid too much junk food, which includes tons of sugary candies, greasy burgers, or things of that nature. He'd much rather have home cooked food, like hand made burgers from real beef, steaks, things he's cooked himself, so he knows what's going into his system. So that means, obviously, he also loves to cook, but mostly the kind that involves a barbeque.

He can be extremely physical when situations go awry, but for it to escalate to violence takes a lot of work. He's disciplined, passionate and has all the strict beliefs of an army brat. There are very rarely shades of grey, there is right and wrong, and he always knows which side he stands on. He's focused on his schooling mainly for the fact that he wants to be able to continue to make the inspiration his father gave him an example.

He has a lot of patience with attacks directed at him, or his actions, but when it comes to people that are close to him, he tends to have a shorter fuse. This is mostly due to the fact that he no longer has any blood relatives that he knows of, so he considers his closest friends family. Because of this, Dameon's always had thoughts of having his own family some day, but not something he's ever brought up in conversation.

While not in the military, his father had taught him how to use and maintain numerous kinds of fire arms. He's not a marksman by any stretch of the imagination, but he's a better shot then most. Having spent most of his time with guns with his father on the range, he's never shot another living person, although his father had taken him hunting on numerous occasions. Ranging from ducks and small game to larger types like Elk, Deer, Moose and once, even Bears. He enjoys rifles, and the use of them, but has never seriously considered the idea of shooting a person, which was why he hoped to become part of JAG when he entered the military, rather then a stationed soldier.

History:

Born in Fort Hunter Liggett, 250 miles (400 km) north of Los Angeles and 150 miles south of San Francisco, he was raised in a small community of about 250 civillians from birth. At a young age, he'd taken a shine to rough housing, never having much oppertunity to spend with girls, as the majority of the families had sons on the base. In fact, he'd really only had a few encounters with any girls his own age at all, and the majority of the time, he treated them like he would boys his age. Rough housing, inviting to play sports, things that were generally not girly. Once, he'd even gotten into a fight with a girl his age, and was swiftly punished by his father. It was then his father told him that no real man ever raised his fist against a woman, in fact, real men only did the opposite. He wasn't sure if it was the punishment, the look in his father's eyes, or the fact for the first time in his life, he'd been talked to like an adult, but that speech and that day stayed with him for his entire life.

He attended the local schools until he was 16 years of age, at which point he left home after a disagreement with his father about his future. His father wanted him to enroll in the military, where as Dameon wanted to make his own choices about his life. Although he didn't know exactly what he wanted to do, he was so sure he didn't want to be an officer for the rest of his days. Neither of them were willing to see things the other's way, so he left home without saying where he was going or when he was coming back. His father never stopped him.

Dameon had spent 2 years of his life on his own, visiting the other states, even skipping into Canada a few times, working odd jobs and making money where he could. He'd worked in various strange jobs, at one point serving as the sparring partner for a kick boxer (Apparently he'd broken too many people's fingers, so his choices were becoming limited), as well as working in a local mine, doing construction for a dam, doing deconstruction work of condemed buildings and working in a junk yard. He'd never found a special place to stay too long, and that suited him just fine.

But eventually, he'd returned home, having gotten a phonecall from his mother telling him his father had become deathly ill. Returning home, he found his father had been informed he had brain tumors. While not inoperable, the doctors informed him there was a high chance that he would become a vegetable, which caused Dameon's father to refuse any surgery. During the last weeks of his father's life, the two made peace over their differences, but the conversations weren't the same. Where once, his father had been a strong, proud man who knew right from wrong, and what needed to be done, he was now lost, a man who's attention was as fleeting as his health. It was a struggle just to get him to finish a sentence, much less hold a conversation, and it was something Dameon had never expected to see from the man who'd pushed him so hard when he was younger, the one who'd taught him morals and how to be strong.

When his father died, the life insurance and military made sure there was more then enough money for his mother, as well as Dameon's schooling. He took his GED and applied to College, but that first year was filled with more stress and anxiety for him when his mother passed away as well. The cause was a Myocardial rupture, and that sent Dameon's first year of College into utter failure. He'd failed nearly every class, even though he knew everything he needed to pass them, for some reason he'd just never been able to keep his thoughts straight. He'd droned through every day as if on auto-pilot, barely registering anything but his own thoughts.

When he recieved his grades, the next day was when he decided he needed to get away, away from the school, away from his home town, away from where his parents were burried, and that that was the only way he'd be able to live a life free of mourning. With both of his parents gone and no siblings, he had inherited quite a bit of money, enough to attend another school farther away, with a fresh start. He knew he wanted to become involved in the Military, not because it was his father's last wish, but because he knew it was the best place for him to fullfill his own needs and desires. He studied Law, taking psychology as a minor, and upon graduation, planned to enroll in the military as soon as he had his diploma.

Sample Rp:

His back slid down the wall, the phone drifting away from his ear as he did. The voice on the other end having gone from clear, to distant and muffled. The papers in his hand suddenly felt like they'd weighed a metric ton, but he kept staring at them as the voice on the other end of the phone kept mumbling off conversation, totally unaware that he'd stopped listening. His eyes kept running down the page, looking at the contents and he could feel himself banging the back of his head against the wall. He'd failed, not one or two classes, but nearly every single one, some not even by a close margin, some of these grades were just...pathetic.

He let the phone and papers drop from his hands almost at the same time, the phone clattering to the floor while the papers slipped away silently. Both hands came up to clamp over his face, rubbing his palms over his cheeks and mouth. He tried to block out the pounding of the blood in his head as the truth became harder and harder to ignore. There'd been a lot of stress, dad, then mom, all within a year, but he didn't think it had hit him so hard. He knew all this stuff, he wasn't stupid, most of these were Liberal Arts classes, shit everybody just...knows. But somehow he'd flunked, it would have been better if he hadn't showed up for these classes, at least then there'd be a reason. Right now, he didn't have one.

His chest swelled as he took a deep breath, exhaling long and slow. He brushed his thumb against the base of his nose, chasing away an itch as he continued to sit and think. He'd been thinking a lot about home, a lot about his parents dying, a lot about the last conversations he'd had with his father before and after he'd left. There were just too many memories here, so many that even when he was sitting in class, taking notes, writing a test, that's what he thought about. He was listening to people talk to him all day, but he never heard them. This whole thing, not many people took these kinds of shots so close to home.

And that was the problem, he was too close to home. He had to get away, he couldn't just keep circling the house where he was born. This circle represented a whirlpool and he was caught in it. The longer he stayed, the deeper he'd be pulled until he drowned, he needed to break free, get away, somewhere far away. As his hand drifted back down to the phone, it clutched it for a moment before he raised it to his ear. "I'll call you back." Were his only words before he dropped it onto the reciever, and pulled himself to his feet. As he took a step forward, he felt his foot press down on the papers that held his grades, but it didn't phase him at all.

That paper just represented everything he was leaving behind.

Celeb:

Chris Evans

Out Of Character:

Levi
23
10+
MSN, AIM, Skype.

Attachments:

[( tahlia )]

I am so impressed with this application. Everything was interesting to read and extremely detailed. You described the PB exceptionally well and I could probably picture him without a photo. Nicely done, can't wait to see some of your posts.