BRAXTON, dean-vincent

[DEAN BRAXTON]

DEAN VINCENT BRAXTON

I'VE JUST SEEN A FACE

character name: dean-vincent braxton
nicknames: d, dibbs, vinnie, deanypoo, deanykins, brax
age: twenty-four
gender: male
sexuality: heterosexual, but very sexual indeed.
pb: cam gigandet

THE LONG WINDING ROAD

occupation: columnist for the las vegas times
residence: lakewood condominiums, cuz his job is paying for it
been in vegas for how long and why: when his book was published, dean was offered a plethora of job offers from various newspapers around the nation. fortunately for him, the las vegas times seemed the most willing to do anything and everything possible to get him out to the city. he also, at this point, was at the peak of his sex addiction, so the idea of legally buying prostitutes appealed most to him. so there he went, taking the job at the age of twenty-two-and-a-half, and he couldn't have been more proud!

FULL OF EXCITING STORIES

likes:

• the smell of fresh pancakes ,
  
• the idea of being admired ,
  
• the rhythm of spanish music ,
  
• the curve of a woman's derriere ,
  
• the intensity anger inspires ,
  
• the sting of a sip of scotch ,
  
• the occasional bit of fan mail ,
  
• the texture of a new fountain pen ,
  
• the convenience of the internet ,
  
• the view from his apartment ,
  

dislikes:

• the rejection in his past ,
  
• the woman who broke his penis ,
  
• the other girl who criticized his sex ,
  
• the sweaters his mother sends him ,
  
• the discomfort of an awkward date ,
  
• the way he looks barefoot ,
  
• the imfamous 'hard to get' theory ,
  
• the fact condoms aren't delivered ,
  
• the man who told him he couldn't act ,
  
• the words 'mediocre' and 'modest'
  

personality:

• sadistic ,
  

  "i've never met a man who was so obsessed with biting! i mean, not that i minded, but it was just incredible. and it's not just the biting that got me; it was the squeezing, the gripping, the rough handling, all of it! sadistic is an understatement. vinnie is the quiet, brooding type when you're with him, and he always emulates that soft demeanor, until of course, you get him in bed. then, out comes the tiger! here's a guy who will instantly pull out the handcuffs, the whips, and the color. i wouldn't put it past him! but don't get me wrong - it makes him the right kind of lover. oh, god can he make love..."
  - eva santos, las vegas times secretary

  
  
  
• clandestine ,
  

  "the thing about dean is that he's the kind of guy you know you want. tall, dark, handsome - that's what they always say, right? he's got this air about him, mhm, this air that just draws you to him. he's secretive and he'll never say much - yeah, he's a man of few words, which is odd considering he's a writer. but he mostly keeps to himself. you'll never see him talking much if you see him at all, but that's what makes him so goddamn attractive. you're always wondering what in hell goes on in that mind of his, and then you pick up the times and what you read makes you want him even more."
  - paula daves, starbucks barista

  
  
  
• broody ,
  

  "wow, yeah, i remember dean braxton as a total brood. i mean, you'd see him come in here with this dark and unhappy air around him, and you could never tell if it was real or just a front, to make him feel like he really had that whole depressed actor bit going on. and really, it wasn't just that. he'd sit there, with his goddamn black coffee, and just watch you. it wasn't creepy, but it was definitely a bit weird the way he'd just watch you, as if mentally engraving you into his mind. he never spoke much, but you could tell from his big blue eyes whether he was happy or sad, and let me tell you, he was usually pretty distressed."
  - emma ko , former acting coach

  
  
  
• deceptive ,
  

  "if there's anything i learned from vin, it's not to trust men at all!but really, first impressions. i mean, vinnie braxton is pretty much made out to be the guy you absolutely couldn't have in your wildest dreams but really, really wanted, at least that's what i thought. i was obsessed with his column for about a year, and i finally bumped into vince at a bar. we got to talking, and he told me about his past and how awful and distressed he was, and how the heartbreak he'd written about in his column was basically what he was going through. i mean he didn't really say that, but indirectly that's what he meant. anyways, i thought when he invited me over to his place, that we were going to make love by moonlight, but instead, all he wanted to do was show me this fucking statue in his condo that he thought had the same body as i did. the statue was of a fucking unicorn!"
  - leslie mendes, ford model

  
  
  
• charming ,
  

  "oh vinnie! i can't help but giggle when i hear his name. well, what do you want to hear? vinnie braxton is capable of getting any woman to undress with just his eyes. some guys are just born with it, and by god, vin was born with it. and reborn! he's everything he writes about, and so much more. he's the guy everyone - or at least every woman - would be all over in moments. when he speaks, you want to melt at his feet. when he laughs, your knees feel weak. and when he touches you, well, you'll be lucky you if you've got your knickers on."
  - adriana gates, blackjack table dealer

  
  
  
• wild ,
  

  "from what i hear, dean braxton is totally wild in bed. my roommate cindy lost her virginity to dean when they were freshmen in college, and she couldn't walk for days! it was hilarious, but really. she told me he was all about the sucking and spanking, and that he liked to do it everywhere but the bed! cindy dated dean for a month, and every friday she'd spend the night with him, and every saturday she'd come to our dorm late afternoon, walking like she had a stick up her ass, but full of stories of how he made her try new positions, and how he loved it when she pulled his hair. all it made me think was how much more i wanted dean braxton to fuck me silly."
  - elizabeth bennett, librarian

  
  
  
• idealistic ,
  

  "well, i think dean's a total jerk, but i'm obligated to say that. if you want to know the real dean-vincent, the side no one sees, you've come to the right place. dean's idealistic, to a point where he drives the rest of us mad. he won't settle for second best, and he won't feel proud of himself unless he's gotten things to turn out exactly the way he wanted them to. he used to rot in his room for hours memorizing lines and praciticing stage direction just for an audition, and god knows how many times he'd re-write papers until they were perfect. i can only imagine what he goes through as a daily columist at the las vegas times. i'm surprised he hasn't gone insane!"
  - danielle braxton, sister and lawyer

  
  

fears:

• the kind of failure that doesn't allow rebounds ,
  

  dean’s fear for failure consumes him most, especially in his most vulnerable moments. he’s seen more failure in his life than not, which makes him feel as though some day, he’ll run out of ways to overcome it and move on. unfortunately, failure comes with a great deal of pain and seclusion for this young man, and eventually, he’s fairly sure redemption won’t ensue, but rather a long, unfathomable period of depression.

  
  
  
• the kind of woman who criticizes his agility & ability in bed ,
  

  ironically, most of his fears stem from situations that have happened before. when he was fifteen, a young and unforgettable young woman told him he was awful in bed, and since then, dean never fully recuperated. in fact, she was the reason he became so obsessed with perfecting and practicing, so ultimately, when he dies mid-orgasm, she’s to blame.

  
  
  
• the kind of desire that isn't satisfied by sex ,
  

  carnal desire is one thing, but pure, unsatisfied desire is another. the desire for love, the desire for truth, the desire for a healthy, familial life, all are plausible but completely out of the question for men with lifestyles and mindsets like dean. so when he does finally find a desire that cannot simply be cured by picking up a woman on the strip, dean may find himself in a big problem.

  
  

secrets:

• he never wanted to be a writer ,
  

  writing just happened. writing came by chance, and changed his life, yet he’s just too afraid to quit and possibly fail once more to quit. now, he doesn’t hate writing, it simply doesn’t satisfy him the way a career in acting would have. when he imagines himself in twenty years, writing simply isn’t in the picture.

  
  
  
• he doesn't mind impregnating women ,
  

  truth be told, dean-vincent braxton would not mind having hundreds of little dean-vincent braxtons running around the world. after all, he’s quite proud of everything he’s been given genetically, morally and intellectually, and feels having many more of him in the world would be quite pleasing and good for the population. of course, the many governments of the world would disagree, and so would the women he sleeps with, but to each his own.

  
  
  
• he is incapable of truly bulking up ,
  

  for years, dean has attempted long and hard to gain body mass, but it simply doesn’t work. now dean isn’t a thin, scrawny man. no, in fact, he’s quite muscular and lean for someone who isn’t overly athletic, but the fact of the matter is, pecks may never be in his future.

  
  

goals:

• to own a brothel that inspires men to be great ,
  

  seeing as a trip to a brothel inspired him to write a book about his sullen life, which in turn brought him fame and success, dean has every intention of granting such a blessing to any man struggling to find a place in the world. selfishly speaking, he also wouldn't mind having a plethora of women pleasing him whenever he pleased.

  
  
  
• to meet his match in a woman ,
  

  the thing about being a sex fiend and having unique interests when it comes to toying in bed, is that it gets repetitive after a while. of course, moving to las vegas means meeting a plethora of women who enjoy sex as much as he does, but still. he’s always told himself that the moment he meets a woman who enjoys trying odd positions and odd fetishes with him, he’ll drop down on one knee and propose.

  
  
  
• to legalize polygamy all over the world ,
  

  unfortunately for dean, he’s met a few of those types of women already, and if he’s going to stay true to his promise, he’s going to have to marry a lot of women. so, his ultimate and final goal in life is to legalize polygamy, so that he may one day retire to the neverland ranch with his dozen wives, have hundreds of baby dean-vincents, and live happily ever after. any other fate just doesn’t sound right.

  
  

WHEN I GET HOME

family:

jeffery-james braxton, 58, father

“my father? studly.
i mean honestly, what a man! i’ve never been more inspired by anyone in my life, and my father has always been one of my biggest role models. his passion for acting was instilled in me as a child, and since then i’ve wanted to do nothing but please him and make him proud by showing him i can be just as great. fortunately, he’s always been supportive, but how can he not be? i’m his son, and if he wasn’t supportive, there would probably be some big media story about it.”

edith miller braxton, 54, mother

”i have nothing but sheer praise for my mother, because she’s been able to put up with my father and his fame for so long. she gave up her life, her independence, her voice and her dreams just to be with him, and she’s never broken that promise to stand by him through thick and thin, through scandals and faux pas. i admire and appreciate her for being a great mother, and though she’s soft spoken and sometimes hard to coax an honest opinion out of, i love her dearly for trying.”

danielle rose braxton, 26, older sister

”my older sister, dani, is my rock, and my biggest support. she’s the only one in the family who has truly seen me at my worst, and that’s mostly because of her goddamn inability to respect my privacy. but her concern has always been for my best, and ultimately, there’s no one i’d rather have in my life to constantly talk to, to watch grow, and to love. i personally think dani received the best qualities from both parents, and of that i’m truly jealous.”

anthony emilio braxton, 21, younger brother

”i cant say the same about my brother. we’ve never been on the same level, and this is partly because he’s kept himself always so secluded from family affairs. he hated the fame from the moment he was born, and his desire to be independent and dissociated from my father and mother is disgusting. i couldn’t have been more in favor of his emancipation, and since we’ve never really been in much contact. for all i know, he’s rotting right now in taiwan, but quite frankly, i don’t care.”

history:

“So, the fact that my father and mother rarely care to speak about their love life, or display any affection towards each other in front of us makes it a bit difficult for me to talk about their life before I was born, but I’ll try my best. I mean, after all, I could just ‘google’ their love story on the internet, but it doesn’t seem fitting. After all, it would probably be highly exaggerated, frequently tweaked, and be accompanied by a series of unforgiving photos that I simply don’t care to see. So the tale that ensues, you can be rest assured, stems from various stories I’ve pieced together, my own speculations and imagination, or goddamn lies. It doesn’t matter though, ‘cuz all you want is a good story, right?

Now let’s begin. My parents are, and always will be, Jeffrey-James Braxton, and Edith Miller. In case you’ve been hibernating for the past thirty years, I’ll tell you who they are, but the fact that you don’t know makes it hard for me to believe you’re fit to read about me anyways. Jeffrey-James Braxton is an American actor, who made his first appearance in a movie named ‘What Was Gold’ when he was a mere twenty years old. Fortunately for him, the movie was nominated for several Academy Awards and won quite a few, earning him well-deserved accolades and publicity from all corners of the world. He was a humble, handsome young man with everything going for him, and a fine actor, if I may say so myself.

My mother, Edith Miller, was a photographer. Now, I don’t mean the type of photographer who enjoys spending countless hours in front of celebrity homes simply to catch them once peaking out their window for their star-crossed lover, or the kind who earns millions by photographing nude folk. Rather, Edith Miller was a still-life photographer and a great one at that, who resorted to being a part-time paparazzi for the sake of paying rent. See, at that time, she was growing up in New York City, to a set of parents who didn’t give a damn about photography, and shamelessly ostracized their dear daughter for refusing to be a doctor, and tainting the family name by following her passion. Oh, how dare she.

So one fine day, Edith Miller was offered the opportunity of a lifetime. When she was just eighteen, she was offered a chance for a full scholarship to attend the Rhode Island School of Design, and simultaneously study under a world famous still-life photography currently acting as a professor at the school. The catch? She’d have to produce a portfolio entailing one, and only one, professional photo shoot of still-life photography. And somehow find the money to get that together.

A determined Edith Miller went to work. She spent weeks devoting her life to stalking celebrities, taking enough pictures to sell a full roll to an upcoming gossip magazine. That money would cover the cost for the shoot, and then she’d be on her way to success.

One fine late night, our dear Edith found herself changing a roll of film in her car which was parked on a rather spooky corner, and perchance, was struck with a life changing situation. Just paces away, was a twenty-two year old superstar actor Jeffrey James, illegally purchasing two prostitutes. Male prostitutes. This was the sort of information that could break the actor’s career, but also provide her with the money she needed to pay for the shoot, and put a chunk away for savings. She quickly loaded her camera, angled and focused it, and snapped away. It was the series of flashes that caused the young actor’s attention, and he rushed over, before she could get in the car and speed away.

Now luckily, the man wasn’t aggressive or threatening, but his paranoia and obvious concern for the publishing or leaking of the photos she’d just taken was plastered on his face, and eminent in his words. He consistently blabbered about how he wasn’t truly homosexual and how this could destroy his public image and career, but she was torn. After an hour’s worth of begging, Edith promised to trash the photos, and the two parted ways.

Just days later, the National Enquirer published a story accusing Jeffrey-James of being homosexual, citing a source who claimed the actor had been seen repeatedly on the corner heavily known as ridden with male prostitutes. Immediately, Jeffrey contacted Edith, who swore she wasn’t the one who leaked the information. He drove her to pieces with his guilt, claiming that she’d be the reason for his ultimate failure. The two met at a café later that day, and discussed the possibilities, while a torn Jeffrey-James looked distraught and broken, as if his life had fallen into pieces before him.

When confronted the next day by a hoard of reporters about her outing with a possibly gay actor, the eighteen year old spontaneously declared that there was no way Jeffrey-James could be gay, because he had proposed to her, and they were to be married in two months.

Fast forward a few dozen months. Edith Miller and Jeffrey-James had gotten married for the sake of Jeffrey’s career, and Edith had turned down her scholarship opportunity in order to start a life with her new husband. The two had their first baby short after, Danielle Rose, who arrived just after Jeffrey-James won an Academy Award for Best Actor, for his performance in the drama about a homosexual unable to come out of the closet.

Two years after, I, Dean-Vincent was born. By this time, Edith had truly fallen in love with Jeffrey, and the question of his sexuality was a thing of the past. It was evident that either Jeffrey had convinced himself that he was straight as a ruler, or it had all been one big misunderstanding. In brief, it was never mentioned again, not by the family, not by the media, not by anyone.

Danielle and I grew up closely, spending all of our time playing together or being home schooled together. Edith devoted her time to her children and raising a proper childhood, as well as pleasing her husband and supporting him through thick and thin. She stood by him as he won award after award, and even when he began to stray.

Three years after my birth came Anthony Emilio, the last of the Braxton children. Anthony had come as more of a surprise, and if the math was done right, he was conceived during the month Jeffrey-James was away, in Tuscany, shooting a film. But once again, no one spoke a word of this, and no one dared question the unity of the family.

My teen years were almost as uneventful as my childhood. Of course, I was your usual, pubescent teen with raging hormones, but I’d developed a passion for acting. It was my father’s fame, really, that had led me to be so interested in the sort of success I could enjoy, so I put all my effort into acting. My mother was so concerned about shielding us from the media that I rarely was noted by the press if at all, but I didn’t mind. One day I’d be the center of the attention, and I’d be the one winning the awards.

Unfortunately, my acting career was almost as short lived as my father’s homosexual stint. Though I took drama classes and had my parents hire private acting coaches, it was the fact that I’d been home schooled my entire life that rendered me a notoriously awkward child with little to no social skills. So regardless of my last name and who my father was, or the fact that I was a consistent presence at most auditions I was and wasn’t eligible for, I simply never got a chance.

So finally, at the age of fifteen, my mother agreed to enroll me in a prestigious high school. I was a staple but clearly unnecessary part of the theater department, but that wasn’t the most memorable of my experiences. Rather, I was asked to prom by a Junior while I was a Sophomore, and though I was sure she only asked because of who I was, I agreed. Now at the time, I was entirely unaware of the fact that women expected to be deflowered – or fucked silly – prom night, so really, I was in for quite a surprise. What I remember most about my teen years was what happened that night, after I’d been undressed and thrown onto the bed of the Ritz Carlton hotel. While I balanced on my knees and held her hips in my clumsy hands, pulling and pushing her frame back and forth against my girth, she turned around and stopped me, before stating, “Wow. You suck at this.”

I pulled out of high school and resumed my home schooling.

But because of her honesty, I was determined to make myself into more of a man than I clearly was on that day. So I practiced with dozens of women a month: women that came to the house to visit my mother, women that cleaned the toilet, women that my father invited over once I confided in him my problem, and women I seduced, who just happened to be the mothers of my female friends.

Now, I say women, because they weren’t girls. No, these were all women, at least ten years older than me, always. My dad had a rule. If I was going to practice, I’d practice on women who weren’t ashamed to ‘fix the problem’ if the condom broke.

For three years, I practiced on so many women, I lost count. By the time I was eighteen, I was notorious for fucking women and not girls, and they basically flocked to me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I was a changed man.

But somewhere during those three years, Anthony became a teen, and became increasingly aware of what was going on around him. He hated the family, and there were many reasons why. He hated my father for his fame and what people said about him, and blamed him for the fact that we couldn’t be a normal family. He hated my mother for what people called her, and for the fact that she couldn’t stand up for herself. He hated my sister for being perfect and caring so much about me and not him, and he hated me because I got all the attention. He spent all of his time isolating himself; he attended public school all his life and hardly made it home.

It was on his birthday, when my father serenaded him with a cake and balloons at school that he called my father a ‘homo’ which sparked an endless fight between them. Six weeks after that fifteenth birthday of his, he filed for emancipation from the family, and was granted just that.

Since then, I’ve only seen him once or twice every year, and by chance.

But enough about him. Let’s talk about me, shall we? Ah, so I was eighteen, and I was accepted into the Tisch School of NYU, for drama. I’m sure it was because of my father, but I was convinced at the time that it was because my audition had gone well. Well, I studied for four years at that school and devoted my entire life to being an actor. I also practically slept with women every day, unless I was memorizing lines or analyzing monologues. Life went on that way for four years; I was oblivious to my utter lack of talent until I was twenty-two, a graduate from the drama department of one of the most prestigious drama schools in the country, and not a single person wanted me. Not one, single production wanted me as their actor, not even for a meager and unimportant role. Not even one without lines!

I was heartbroken. My parents had so graciously gotten me an apartment in Manhattan, but I spent all my time sulking my unemployed ass in front of the glass window. For six months, I sat and rotted, and I didn’t invite a single girl back to the loft. I was depressed, and I got chubby, because I’d spent my whole life entirely disillusioned, and convinced that I would become a great actor like my father.

Well, apparently you’ve got to have talent to do that.

Well, after six months of sulking, my father called me up on my twenty-first birthday, and invited me to a brothel. Apparently, he and my mother had had an argument, and he needed to get out of the house. I was pretty sure it was because my mother had been sleeping with my father’s personal assistant, but we didn’t talk about it. We went to the brothel, and it was life-changing.

I found myself naked, once again, straddled by a very beautiful, but also very naked Linda Marini, who, while licking my ear, whispered, “Your life must be incredible. You should write a book about it.”

It’s funny how my most memorable moments all happened in bed, while I was naked with a woman riding me.

So anyways, I went home that night after a great fuck, and I did just that. I started writing about all the women I’d met in my life, and how each one of them had taught me something special about myself. Six months later, the writing was finished, and I sent in my memoir to about ten publishers, for the sake of trying something new.

‘Lessons from Lust’ was published when I was just twenty-two. Ironically, the same age where my father’s career was at his peak, mine was too.

It was then that I received a series of job offers, ranging from talk show host, to columnists at various newspapers around the nation. I decided that I wasn’t exactly the most talkative man, so that ruled out talk show host, and I simply didn’t want to spend my life being a magazine editor or whatever. A columnist it was. When it came down to picking which newspaper offered me the best deal, The Las Vegas Times offered me the best of all worlds. A great and vibrant city, legal prostitution, and gorgeous women for days was all it took, and I was signed, sealed, and delivered.

At the age of twenty three, I finally left New York City and started working for the LV Times, and I’ve been here for a year now, with my own column about my experiences from women. I’ve got a contract for my next book now, and at the age of twenty-four, I’m ready for whatever life throws at me, as long as it includes more ass and inspiration to write about.”

pets: no, dean isn't the pet sort of guy

FROM US TO YOU

ooc name: london thegreat.
age: like 1000 ish.
years roleplaying: 1000 ish +1
other characters: brookie, gracie
how did you hear about us: a birdie fell from the sky and said YO. VLV FOO.
roleplay sample: see my others, yeeboi.

[/blockquote]

[LONDON!]

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