#pdochearts

[x]

How old are you IRL? twenTY FUCKING NINE

What character are you applying for? Hearts Boxcars, aka Harold “Don’t Fuckin Call Me Harry” Borkowski

Why are you interested in this character? I’ve been wanting to branch out for a while and I do have a massive love for the Midnight Crew; they’re fun, funny, interesting parts of canon that get overlooked a lot (even by me!) despite how much they add to the narrative. Plus I would really love to see them in PDOC!

What is your personal interpretation of this character? How would you describe their personality? Many people would consider him all brawn and little brain and… Well, they would be mostly right. While Harold isn’t exactly dumb, he’s mostly a simple guy with simple tastes. From making good music and food, to excelling in breaking open safes and heads, he likes to focus on the things he enjoys in life.

His nature is as brusque as his opinion, often using threats of violence to make a point and displaying a rather short temper for things he considers a waste of his time. Harold isn’t afraid to tell people exactly how he feels and patience is not one of his strong suits. If he can’t work something out easily through accepted means, he has no qualms in employing force to level the playing field entirely in his favor.

Despite his admittedly harsh exterior he does have a soft side to him, hidden deep away behind layers of muscle and his steely low tolerance for bullshit, and in that soft little pocket he does treasure the idea of romance quite a bit. He’s completely balls at it and when it comes to his own love life he’s more likely to fuck it up than actually succeed, so he often lives vicariously through the romantic exploits of others, and occasionally tries to play matchmaker although his efforts are often unwanted and even kind of coercive.

His final passion in life is cooking. The man loves to cook and is quite good at it, though strangely enough most of his fellow gang members seem very reluctant to sample any of his exquisitely prepared meals…

What would be your character’s major or occupation? It’s fine to be undecided, and you can change it later if you like! Member of the Midnight Crew, double bass player and safecracker extraordinaire, with side jobs of amateur matchmaker and “chef”.

Give a physical description of your character: He is a mountain of a man, all meat and intimidation as even those who he doesn’t tower over at 6’3”, he still beats in pure girth. He has a bit of a gut on him but beneath that hearty band of fat is pure muscle, and he truly is a guy where it wouldn’t be too outlandish to picture him out in the forest, wrestling grizzly bears with his bare hands.

He has a square jaw, often sporting a robust 5 o’clock shadow, with dark slicked back hair that is greying at the sides and compact features aside from his rather large mouth. If he were to open his mouth, it would be obvious that his canines are a little more pronounced than the average persons.

Give an example post of your character in this AU:

The TV was on when Harold finally made it home, feeling fucking beat. It had been a rough day of too much idiocy for him to handle and his temper was already hanging on by a fraying string. He hung his hat and coat on the rack near the door before taking a moment to rub his face with a meaty hand, letting out a sigh while trying to shake off the dredges of the day. He was so ready to relax and kick back, maybe watch a bit of TV and get his mind off things… it was just his luck that another one of his comrades seemed to be doing just the same, the TV flickering just in the other room as the accompanying sounds echoed from within.

“What’s this yer watchin?” His long strides took him to the room quickly, settling his hand upon the back of the couch behind where his diminutive coworker, Caleb, sat.

"Doctor Who. You think I would look good in a bowtie?" he asked, eyes on the television while he watched some strange brit declare his newfound affection for bowties.

“Huh, ne’er heard of it,” He replied with mild interest, walking around the antique couch to settle down heavily next to Caleb, the furniture creaking in protest to his considerable weight. Once he was settled he considered Caleb for a moment, pondering his query. “I don’t think a bowtie would suit ya.” He shifted his focus to the television.

While he had certain preferences in his viewing, he was the kind of guy who could check his brain out at the door for most video entertainment, and he was quite content to do it now, his legs sprawled out and one arm lazily laying across the back of the couch. As the episode progressed, sat in silence for a long while, his brow knitting as the nature of the show began to unfold. The Tardis made its grand entrance and with it the plot chose to rear its ugly head.

“Oh fer cryin out loud…” It was beginning to get hard to follow, and one of his fingers tapped on the back of the couch in annoyance. It was only once the show began chugging towards the close that Harold couldn’t take it anymore.

He stood up abruptly, wasting no time in abruptly tearing the TV out of the wall, and in a shower of sparks, it promptly found itself smashed against the floor.

“I HATE TIME TRAVEL.”