sickening sights.

    GENERAL

Full Name: Jonathan Barker Alias(es): Johnny, "Numbers". Sex: Male DOB: 01/05/77 SO: Undecided Marital Status: Single Occupation: Ex-Hobo, Go-To-Guy, Snitch, Italian Mafia's rat Nationality: American

PHYSICAL

Height: 1.80 m/5’11” Weight: 70 kg/155 lbs Hair Colour: Brown Eye Colour: Blue Other: Faded scars over his wrists, has a golden tooth way in the back of his mouth, has the number "23" tattoed into his left hand's thumb.

FAVOURITES

Food: Liquid yogurts. Always downing that shit Drink: Whiskey and good old beer Colour: Red Music: Velvet Underground / Lou Reed Movie: Enter The Void Weapon: Any object he can throw at you

OTHER INFORMATION

Spoken Languages: English Hobbies: Bar-fighting, drinking, eavesdropping, watching the travel channel 24/7 Habits: Clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils, gritting his teeth, scratching/scrubbing/brushing his hair with his hands Religion: Atheist Criminal Record: Drug dealing, drug possession, ownership of unlicensed guns, blackmailing, indecent exposure, aggression, armed robbery (innocent). Current Residence: Chicago, USA

FAMILY

Before we can start having fun I can’t underline enough how much NSFW and triggering content I expect this account to be filled with. Be it sexual content, violence, gore, swearing among many others. You should be over 16 to interact with my character and over 18 to play out any smut(ish) situations. Which may occur; I have absolutely no issues with smut as long as it makes “sense” between the two characters. By following this account you agree that you have decided you can deal with these subjects. You’re free to unfollow if you ever feel uncomfortable / offended.

MUSE ≠ MUN,

Just want to make it clear; Johnny is very fun to play but not the most ethical guy around. I do not agree with most of his views / actions and you mustn’t take anything the character does or says personally. If Johnny ever targets your character or dislikes them that doesn’t mean that I don’t like you. I keep ooc drama to a minimum and completely ignore ooc hate. If there’s anything wrong ooc I promise to discuss it in the privacy of skype / asks. Don’t worry though. We’re all here to have fun.

FANDOMS AND SHIPPING,

Now this is a very important topic; I have several RP accounts but I am not particularly interested in interacting within fantasy / supernatural related scenarios in this one in particular. It’s nothing personal, but I’m more interested in interacting with characters that fit into a realistic / modern universe simply because this is the world Johnny was built to fit into and to try to adapt him into a more magical ambiance would mean changing who he is. As for shipping, this is not the account’s main objective and Johnny doesn’t strike me as the romantic type. But if there’s chemistry, wonderful things may happen. And by wonderful I mean horrifying. I love shipping, you're all in deep shit.

MUTUALS AND PLOTTING,

THE MAN WITHOUT A FACE,

Some big shot psychiatrist once said the most important question to ask a patient is "who loved you as a child".  You can answer that with only one word; nobody. Your whole life you've been nothing but a number. You were baby number 2203 on the first of April of 1977. You were child number 0185 on the twenty-third of April of 1977. You got the name Jonathan Barker when you got into the hands of foster care. But you'd get arrested enough times for others to forget your name. That wasn't your real one anyway. You never liked it too much. Feels fake. Like wearing plastic bags for shoes. With enough heath, the black plastic fibers will begin to fuse with your skin. But they'll never feel comfortable.

LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE,

Let's face it, you always knew you were meant to be a no-gooder. Always getting in fights, always lying and cheating through board games, you weren't blessed with good-looks either. Everyone made fun of your nose. Pushed you around. Stuck your head down toilets, sang songs about your ugly mug, girls ran away and teased you in horrible ways...Maybe that's why you became such a bad kid. You were bullied a lot. So you out-bully your bullies. You are much more inventive. You toss bags of your shit into their showers. You burn their homework. You snitch out every little plan you overhear. You lift girls' skirts and call them horrible names. You have no friends Jonathan. And you don't want any. You tell this to yourself from a very young age. And the thing about lies is, if you think about them for long enough, you start believing them. Nobody dares adopting you. You're an ugly kid and you don't look like you were ever a pink cheeked soft breathing toddler. You look old and hostile. You watch the bastards who picked on you being taken away by firm adult hands. They're all smiles and promising futures. You stand there and just watch. But you're not jealous. No, it's like you said before. You don't need nobody. Whisper this every night before bed and you're good to go. You're eighteen years old and you haven't had one single girlfriend your whole life. You wonder if this happens to other people. You wonder if maybe there's something wrong with your wiener. You wonder if maybe you like boys. You come to realize none of the sexes is kind to you or your looks. You decide you definitively don't like anyone and despite spending hours in a bathroom stall muffling your sobbing into cheap toilet paper you're definitively not sad. Foster home people say it's time you get yourself out of that joint and get a job. Fine. You hated that place anyway. They get you washing dishes at a shitty Italian restaurant. The manager speaks loudly. He slaps the back of your head a lot. You don't like him either.

BAD BAD NOT GOOD,

You might be ugly. You might be aggressive. You might be downright rude. But you ain't dumb Jonathan. You never were. It took brains to tell on other without getting caught. It took smarts. Planning. Your boss has friends over for dinner every night. He makes them special prices, kisses their rings, smiles at them more than he ever smiles at his employees. Maybe you overhear a small conversation about dirty money. Maybe you hear about rivalries between crime families. You hear someone say they know a couple of guys will be visiting the restaurant with guns. They'll come through the backdoor of course. They'll ambush them. Kill them dead, keep their crown on their head and their food in their stomachs. They laugh. They clap. You listen. One day you're taking the trash out and you find a couple of sharp dressed fellows walking into the tight smelly street. You clean your hands on your apron and tell them they shouldn't go through there. People are waiting. Take the front door. Shoot them in the back. They do this. You helped kill off some of the most important italian mafiosos in the country, Johnny. They're grateful to you. And since the restaurant will be closing due to its manager's sudden death they want to get you another job. A better paying one.

A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE,

You're an idiot. You ain't dumb Johnny, but you're an idiot. You're an idiot for ever thinking you could pull this off. They get you a nice suit they call you family but your hand shakes and you get gag reflexes whenever you pull a trigger or watch someone getting tortured. You want to convince everyone you're a big bad wolf but you're not. You're a liar. But these people are the only ones who ever accepted you. These gangsters they offer you drinks, they call you kid and although you tell them not to call you that, you love it. You've got a family. But you're shit at making your family proud. So you take the fall for one of your friends. Five years in jail they say. You'll do fine they say. You're too ugly and creepy looking for anyone to fondle you in the showers. They try to tell you it will be a breeze. But it isn't. You do get man-handled in the showers, you do get your jaw broken in a fight, you do almost end up killed with a few stab wounds. But you survive through it all. Jail made you twitchy though. You bring baggage with your already sick little head.  The pills make you happier. They don't make you a better person but at least your eyes aren't bulging out of your skull from full nights of crying and from cowardly suicide attempts. You've pressed knives against your wrists and broken through the skin but you're too much of a chicken to do it the right way. The way that will actually get you killed. So the happy pills gets you motivated, you stay out of the big important criminal deals but you still get arrested for unlicensed drugs. Three more years. Three years away from the happy pills were a torture. You can't survive jail if you're on your own. But you spent so many times telling yourself you don't need anyone that when you finally put life into perspective in an empty little cell you realize; 

Maybe nobody needs you. Nobody likes you.

TONIGHT THE STREETS ARE OURS,