Baylen Gerard LeBlanc

[bleakradiance]

Character Name: Baylen Gerard LeBlanc
Nickname(s): Bay
Gender: Male
Age: 15
Grade: Freshman
Former School: Transfer
Sexuality: Bisexual
Clique: Exchange Student
Weight: 136.4 lbs
Height: 5' 10
Appearence:

'Ow would I describe my looks? 'zat is an interesting question. Well I would stat with 'ze head. My 'air is 'ze most important part of my looks, I guess you could say it is who I am, it lets me express myself without talking. I wear it short and spiked, and I adore my fringe, I don't think I would look, well, like me without it. Naturally, my 'air's blond and curly. I couldn't stand 'zat look, so, I decided I'd change it up. My 'air's a dark shade, like I suppose, a light black, and I spike it up every morning, bar 'ze long, narrow fringe over my right eye, which 'as been called my 'obsession'. It's not 'ard to control, but if anyone messes it up, 'zey'd better duck and cover. What's next? My skin, I guess. I keep my skin clean and clear, it takes me a lot of effort to keep it pimple-free, but it's so worth it, beautiful skin is the largest part of a beautiful body, and my beautiful skin's pale, soft and smooth, I make sure that I 'ave perfection wrapped around my body.

Speaking of my body, it's slim, above average height. 5'10” last time I measured myself back in France. I wouldn't call myself skinny, I prefer to say 'slender'. I'm too buff to be skinny and too skinny to be buff. But whatever you wanna call, you can't deny it. I'm sexy. I mean, subtle six-pack abs, slim fat-free legs. Defined, but modest calves and biceps. My skin's just flawless, no gruesome tan lines, no body hair, consistently gorgeous from my stunning face with it's chocolate eyes and soft, kissable lips, to the tips of my perfectly clipped, well-kept toe nails.

Clothes? Well, I'm sure you'd rather see me without 'zem, but it's not gonna 'appen. You will, however, 'ave 'ze joy of seeing my amazing fashion sense! Lucky you! I wear a little bit of everything. Well everything that is, 'ow would you say it? 'Sexy beyond belief'? Mostly, it's tight clothes in dark colors, band shirts and skinny-legged jeans mostly, but with my inspired taste in fashion, there's plenty of variety. I mean my wardrobe 'olds clothes for every situation you could imagine. I've worn my day-to-day attire to funerals and fit in fine, but it's appropriate at rock concerts, and libraries, and let's not forget cafes and for just hanging out. Footwear? Well that's a good question. Mostly it's just sneakers, my favorite pair are black and red, custom made. 'zey were a present. But, I've got dress shoes that I wear to formal events. Oh, and there's my absolute favorite shoes. My boots, I own two pairs. One's just black with flames extending from the souls, up around the sides of the shoes and on to the uppers, they're just up to my shins and they zip up. My other pair, 'zey belonged to my ex-boyfriend, rest his soul. Women's boots, black, knee-high with white laces and an inch-long 'eel. I love those.

Personality:

My personality? Well, 'Zere's a lot to it. Most people I know would tell you 'ow much of an arrogant jerk I am. 'Ze truth is, I am a jerk, but I'm not really 'zis arrogant, 'zis is going to sound cliché, but honestly, I'm insecure. 'Ow do you think it feels to loose your first boyfriend in a car accident sign up for an exchange program to go 'alf way around the world, loose your entire reputation, and 'ave to start from scratch? 'Ow do you think not knowing 'ze language well would effect 'zat? Not well, I assure you. So, what do I do to hide my underconfidence? 'Ow do I do it? I pretend to be an egomaniac. I walk around like I own 'ze world, I talk about 'ow 'sexy' I am. I don't believe I'm sexy. But, I need it to look that way, because I can't let people in, or I'll just be alone 'ere too.

Yes I put up a tough front, and surround myself with other arrogant and conceited people, zat's what's best for me. But sometimes I let people in. some times people get through my wall and see me for who I am. Really, I'm just a sweet, needy idiot who clings to anything he can get and just tries as 'ard as he can to make sure he doesn't loose anyone, and makes friends, even if it means acting like a total jack-ass, but then again, there's security in confidence. When I'm with a love interest I'm a completely different guy. I feel an urge to give to 'zem everyzing zat my boyfriend gave to me, and zen some, because I don't know 'ow long I'll be in zere lives for and I want to leave it better.

'Ow do I act under pressure? Quiet confidence fails me sometimes, when I get truly stressed, I struggle to maintain that facade and when that fails. I break down. Sometimes it's aggression. Yelling, screaming, throwing zings. Be it internal, or external, I always end up crying. I can't tolerate being put under pressure and I try to avoid it all costs. I might 'ang out with a jock I can't stand simply because it means protection, or I might whisper to the gossips to draw attention from myself. There's two exceptions to this zough, racism and homophobia. I won't tolerate either. I'm ze French bisexual, and if anyone wants to confront me about it. 'ere I am and I'll fight to defend myself from prejudice if it means loosing everyzing I have. I guess ze one time zat jerk I pretend to be is actually me is when I'm being discriminated against. I'm damn proud to be bi, and I'm even prouder to be a Frenchman.

History:

Zere's a lot in my background. I mean I 'ave been around for fifteen years after all. A lot can 'appen in 15 years, and it 'as. I was born in La Rochelle, on the southern coast of France to a 'appily married couple. Zey were loving parents. I grew up with Zem. Zey both worked full time, my mother was ze owner of a restaurant, my father the head chef, me, ze petite baby boy who was always getting into trouble at ze restaurant. I started at school when I was five, and nothing really changed. I was a bright 'appy boy with a lot of friends.

Later, when I was about twelve years old, I started to realize, sexually speaking, that I wasn't quite normal. Zat I liked boys as well as girls. My parents were a little distressed about zis for a while, but zey dismissed it as a phase. It wasn't a phase, and they found out when I got my first boyfriend. My Zachery, yes, that's pronounced Zah-sherry, it's French. I told them about Zach, thinking zey'd be happy for me, zey weren't. zey didn't kick me out of 'ome, but I knew I wasn't wanted. I guess, what my father called me, when translated to English would be something along ze lines of a 'Disgraceful fagot, and a mark against the family name.'

Zachery's mother was quick to accept me. 'is family had broken up over 'is father 'aving similar views. I didn't move in with Zach, but I was spending all of my time at 'is 'ouse, sleeping zere every weekend. 'E and I were in love too. It was ze best year of my life. Until 'E left without me to visit 'is aunt and uncle for a week. 'E never came back. During 'is trip, he was 'it by a car. I was able to visit 'im once in 'ospital before he died. Now, all I 'ave to remember 'im by is 'is boots, and a million pictures on ze walls of my new room in America. What am I doing here anyway? Well, after Zachery died, my family offered no sympathy. Zey thought I was better off without 'im and zat maybe now I wouldn't embarrass zem. I 'ad to get out, so I signed up for an exchange program. A month later, I packed my bags, and 'ere I am in Central.”

Sample Rp:

This was his first day of school in Central. He'd woken up not too long ago, stretched and looked with a mixture of regret and optimism around his room. Finally his eyes fell upon a picture of Zachery, the last one Baylen had taken before his boyfriend died. “Bonjour, mon amour...” The boy said in a hushed tone, before opening his trunk and lazily throwing out a set of clothes. Skinny legged black jeans, and a tight fitting jet black shirt with a white love heart on the left shoulder, the heart had a silver skull-shaped pin in the center. Baylen then produced two more items. A black and white zebra-print belt with spikes adorning it, and a pair of knee length boots with white laces and a tall heel. Zachery's, when he was alive. Donning all of these clothes, Baylen looked in the mirror, knowing he would be dis-satisfied. He hadn't done his hair yet, careful not to wake his dorm-mates, he entered the bathroom, and began to go to work.

After at least an hour of work on his hair, he'd done it, it was spiked to perfection, his fringe combed perfectly. It was then that he gave his final check for acne. Not a single pustule of any kind, his skin was baby smooth as always. Re-emerging into the dorm he found that most of the other boys had gotten up and left by this point. Not caring half as much as Baylen did about how they looked. Bay left the room, leaving the late-risers to sleep. What would he do now? Breakfast? No, He wasn't hungry.

Baylen figured he'd spend the time before class walking around the school, getting to know it. Exploring. As his heeled boots made loud taps falling against the floor of the pristine halls of his new home, Central, there were very few people wandering about, most of the students seemed to be eating breakfast by now. Baylen turned his head to the walls looking at the photographs that lined this particular hall, when suddenly, he felt a crash, and toppled to the floor. A shortish, slightly chubby, but still appealing girl sprawled on top of him with her right arm draped over his left arm and his chest. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry! Are you all right?” She said. There was something about her voice that made Baylen question weather or not the collision was accidental. He put on a smirk. That false one Baylen wore so often and so well. “Why 'Ello zere. I am fine.” Baylen said as he clambered to his feet, pulling the girl up with him. “And ow' are you? By ze way, my name is Baylen.” The girl didn't answer immediately, but she did smile broadly, blushing slightly. “My name's Laura. I love your accent!” Baylen felt a very slight, probably unnoticeable blush creep across his cheeks. “'Ow about I walk you to class, where abouts is it?” The girl started to walk. Pulling a slightly taken-a-back Baylen by his hand. “It's this way, Baylen. I have math with Miss Greyweather.” “Really?” Baylen said, surprised. “So do I.”

The pair arrived at class and took their seats, directly next to each other. Baylen started to take notes, Occasionally, he'd turn to see Laura looking at him, or giggling and passing notes. He wondered what kind of person she was. She didn't seem like a particularly popular girl, because the prettier, more stereotypical girls seemed to avoid talking to her for long, but they shared secrets with her, presumably through notes. Her hair was 'normal' not brightly colored, or immaculately styled. Eventually, Baylen decided that Laura was a gossip. He was correct too. She was texting away, unbeknown to Miss Grayweather. “Je vais vous donner quelque chose à potins.” Baylen said aloud in French. “What did that mean?” Laura asked, curiously. As if she was in an interview with some kind of celebrity. “Zis” Baylen placed his hand on the girl's thigh, leaving her blushing as she set her phone aside.

Celeb:

Bill Kaulitz

Out Of Character:

Note: The 'z instead of th' thing, and the ' 'instead of h' thing are both in character things, my crappy attempt at a French accent

My Name's Mat, I'm going on 18. I've been RPing for 2 years, but I've only gotten serious about it in the last couple of months, joining wrestling efeds, and the like.

[aangel]

reading your application was extremely interesting. i've never tried writing with a french accent before, so it was a little fun sorting things out and getting the actual words from it. it was written in first person, which isn't usually done, but there's no problems with it. you gave a lot to go off of for your character, which is always wonderful. it'll be good to see an exchange student logging on again.

welcome to central!