REVOLUTIONIST, griffin brandt
posted Aug 24, 2019 18:29:16 GMT -6
★Deimos likes this
[nospaces]
[attr="class","REVOLUTIONIST"]
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[attr="class","omapponetop2"]revolution calling
[attr="class","omapponetop1"]FILES LOCATED UNDER
GRIFFIN BRANDT
GRIFFIN BRANDT
[attr="class","omapponetopp"]
GRIFFIN BRANDT
LOOKS LIKE TRAFALGAR LAW FROM ONE PIECE
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FILE NAVIGATION
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[attr="class","omapponebasicstop"]
ABOUT GRIFFIN
ABOUT GRIFFIN
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BRANDT
[attr="class","lnr lnr-star"]
BRANDT
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
29 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","lnr lnr-gift"]
29 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
CIS MALE
[attr="class","lnr lnr-shirt"]
CIS MALE
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
HE/HIM
[attr="class","lnr lnr-bubble"]
HE/HIM
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
HETEROSEXUAL
[attr="class","lnr lnr-heart-pulse"]
HETEROSEXUAL
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
HETEROROMANTIC
[attr="class","lnr lnr-heart"]
HETEROROMANTIC
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
SINGLE
[attr="class","lnr lnr-users"]
SINGLE
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
NOVEMBER 19
[attr="class","lnr lnr-calendar-full"]
NOVEMBER 19
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
SCORPIO
[attr="class","lnr lnr-moon"]
SCORPIO
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
COMBAT TRAINER
[attr="class","lnr lnr-briefcase"]
COMBAT TRAINER
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[attr="class","omapponetabs1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
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RECENT STATUS
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through the fog inside my head, i see the world just fine.
through the fog inside my head, i see the world just fine.
[attr="class","omapponepersonality1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
[attr="class","omapponelikes"]
[attr="class","omapponelikes1"]
[attr="class","omapponelikes2"]POSITIVES
decisive
quick-witted
confident
resilient
competent
honest
[attr="class","omapponelikes"]
[attr="class","omapponelikes1"]
[attr="class","omapponelikes2"]NEGATIVES
short-tempered
impatient
stubborn
mistrustful
insensitive
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[attr="class","omapponetabs2"]MISCELLANEOUS
][attr="class","omapponemisc"]
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MISCELLANEOUS INFO
[attr="class","omapponemisc4"]
> Brandt has a short fuse - not to say that he's angry all the time at everything, but more that he's very quick to anger, which you must understand is not the same thing, and he tends to get violent when angry. Anger makes him impulsive, not blind; he's always in control of himself. Or at least, that's how it feels.
[break][break]
> Brandt is former American special forces. He's lethal in all forms of physical combat, can break down and put back together any military-grade gun, stay calm in extremely high-stress situations, and he understands that getting the job done comes before all else. Though honorably discharged, he doesn't call himself a veteran.
[break][break]
> Brandt is a heavy weight drinker, and arguably, he drinks a lot. He knows his limit, and how to deal with the hangovers. He's generally more open (or as open as he gets, anyway) when he's got a good whiskey in hand; he's also easier to piss off.
[break][break]
> Brandt doesn't say it very often, but he carries a lot of resentment toward the government for sending its soldiers off to fight and die in pointless wars. He'll never admit that he's broken, but perhaps he blames the government for that as well.
[break][break]
> No one - let's repeat - no one calls Brandt by his given name. Most people don't even know what his given name is, because he sure as hell won't give it to you.
[break][break]
> Brandt has a younger sister that he hasn't seen or spoken to since before he joined the military. This is mostly because she was a pacifist at the time and disagreed strongly with his going off to fight in a war. Perhaps the only true fear he has anymore is that she would be disappointed by the man he's become.
> Brandt has a short fuse - not to say that he's angry all the time at everything, but more that he's very quick to anger, which you must understand is not the same thing, and he tends to get violent when angry. Anger makes him impulsive, not blind; he's always in control of himself. Or at least, that's how it feels.
[break][break]
> Brandt is former American special forces. He's lethal in all forms of physical combat, can break down and put back together any military-grade gun, stay calm in extremely high-stress situations, and he understands that getting the job done comes before all else. Though honorably discharged, he doesn't call himself a veteran.
[break][break]
> Brandt is a heavy weight drinker, and arguably, he drinks a lot. He knows his limit, and how to deal with the hangovers. He's generally more open (or as open as he gets, anyway) when he's got a good whiskey in hand; he's also easier to piss off.
[break][break]
> Brandt doesn't say it very often, but he carries a lot of resentment toward the government for sending its soldiers off to fight and die in pointless wars. He'll never admit that he's broken, but perhaps he blames the government for that as well.
[break][break]
> No one - let's repeat - no one calls Brandt by his given name. Most people don't even know what his given name is, because he sure as hell won't give it to you.
[break][break]
> Brandt has a younger sister that he hasn't seen or spoken to since before he joined the military. This is mostly because she was a pacifist at the time and disagreed strongly with his going off to fight in a war. Perhaps the only true fear he has anymore is that she would be disappointed by the man he's become.
[attr="class","omapponemisc1"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc11"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc11"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc12"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc11"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc13"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc2"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
+seafood
+whiskey
+hitting things
+the color blue
+jogging
+winning
[attr="class","omapponemisc2"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
-pork
-losing
-incompetency
-laziness
-the government
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[attr="class","omapponetabs3"]SUBJECT BIOGRAPHY
][attr="class","omapponebio"]
[attr="class","omapponebio1"]
His first memory of his father was the stink of stale beer. Sometimes late at night, when the whiskey had gotten to his head, he wondered if he wasn't turning into that man. As a boy, the thought would have disgusted him, terrified him even; but it was probably inevitable, and Brandt did not fear the inevitable.
[break][break]
His mother had abandoned them without even doing them the courtesy of leaving. His first memory of her was the stink of cigarettes. Truthfully, he didn't remember much else about her; not the color of her hair or eyes, or even the sound of her voice. She'd rarely spoken to any one of them if she could avoid it, staying in her room all day and leaving at night to do God knew what. It was an unspoken truth that she only wanted to get away. Supposedly she was writing, cooped up all day in her room - Brandt understood that this was just another means of escape.
[break][break]
He'd wanted to join the military from a young age. That or be a policeman, maybe even a firefighter. He forgot about those wants during his adolescence, struggling to establish himself as a man in his own right without understanding what it meant to be a man. He knew his father was not really a man, and he willed with all his might not to become that way.
[break][break]
Brandt understood that there was a large part of him, the person he'd used to be, that hadn't come back from the war. He'd lost it somewhere in the desert, though he couldn't have said where. Where there used to be kindness, there was only anger. He'd fought for his country and lost good people for it, and in the end all he had left to show was anger and resentment.
[break][break]
It was easy to kill people, after a while. He stopped seeing their faces, and he stopped seeing the lines he crossed, over and over. It was either that, or break. He'd never had any intention of breaking; he wasn't broken. He was good at fighting. He was strong and fearless. He was angry. But anger wasn't what the army wanted in a soldier. They started to treat him differently, like he wasn't one of their own. He almost killed a man for it. After that, they declared him unfit for combat and sent him home.
[break][break]
He realized, after he got home, that people were afraid of him without his even trying. They could sense it on some instinctual level: he was dangerous. He knew violence intimately, and that separated him from most of the human population - the people he'd been supposedly fighting for. And what had he been fighting for? Nothing. He hated that. What kind of men fought for nothing? Who cared about men who fought for nothing?
[break][break]
After that, there really wasn't much left to tell. He never tried to pick up the pieces of his old life. He left for the other side of the country without looking back, and hasn't regretted it once. It's easier to live as a different man than to lie about being a broken one.
His first memory of his father was the stink of stale beer. Sometimes late at night, when the whiskey had gotten to his head, he wondered if he wasn't turning into that man. As a boy, the thought would have disgusted him, terrified him even; but it was probably inevitable, and Brandt did not fear the inevitable.
[break][break]
His mother had abandoned them without even doing them the courtesy of leaving. His first memory of her was the stink of cigarettes. Truthfully, he didn't remember much else about her; not the color of her hair or eyes, or even the sound of her voice. She'd rarely spoken to any one of them if she could avoid it, staying in her room all day and leaving at night to do God knew what. It was an unspoken truth that she only wanted to get away. Supposedly she was writing, cooped up all day in her room - Brandt understood that this was just another means of escape.
[break][break]
He'd wanted to join the military from a young age. That or be a policeman, maybe even a firefighter. He forgot about those wants during his adolescence, struggling to establish himself as a man in his own right without understanding what it meant to be a man. He knew his father was not really a man, and he willed with all his might not to become that way.
[break][break]
Brandt understood that there was a large part of him, the person he'd used to be, that hadn't come back from the war. He'd lost it somewhere in the desert, though he couldn't have said where. Where there used to be kindness, there was only anger. He'd fought for his country and lost good people for it, and in the end all he had left to show was anger and resentment.
[break][break]
It was easy to kill people, after a while. He stopped seeing their faces, and he stopped seeing the lines he crossed, over and over. It was either that, or break. He'd never had any intention of breaking; he wasn't broken. He was good at fighting. He was strong and fearless. He was angry. But anger wasn't what the army wanted in a soldier. They started to treat him differently, like he wasn't one of their own. He almost killed a man for it. After that, they declared him unfit for combat and sent him home.
[break][break]
He realized, after he got home, that people were afraid of him without his even trying. They could sense it on some instinctual level: he was dangerous. He knew violence intimately, and that separated him from most of the human population - the people he'd been supposedly fighting for. And what had he been fighting for? Nothing. He hated that. What kind of men fought for nothing? Who cared about men who fought for nothing?
[break][break]
After that, there really wasn't much left to tell. He never tried to pick up the pieces of his old life. He left for the other side of the country without looking back, and hasn't regretted it once. It's easier to live as a different man than to lie about being a broken one.
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[attr="class","omapponetabs4"]PLAYER
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call me
PUNKI
call me
PUNKI
[attr="class","omapponeplayer1"]
PM / DISCORD
19 YEARS OLD | SHE/HER | EST |
PM / DISCORD
[attr="class","omapponerenown"]
5%
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