Profile
Personal Photo

No Photo

Options
Custom Title
DOBLIN KETLING doesn't have a custom title currently.
Personal Info
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Interests
No Information
Other Information
MP3 MUSIC: No Information
AGE: No Information
APP: http://wcsrpg.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=1496&view=findpost&p=4177
PLOT AD: http://wcsrpg.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=2123&st=0&#entry6996
PLAYED BY: CANARY
JOB/ RANK: jobless
NATIONALITY: irish
Statistics
Joined: 19-July 12
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Feb 16 2013, 02:12 PM
Local Time: Jun 26 2017, 02:02 PM
10 posts (0 per day)
( 0.11% of total forum posts )
Contact Information
AIM No Information
Yahoo No Information
GTalk No Information
MSN No Information
SKYPE No Information
Message: Click here
Email: Private
Signature
View Signature

DOBLIN KETLING

CITIZEN

Topics
Posts
Comments
Friends
My Content
Jan 29 2013, 06:48 AM
[dohtml]<style type="text/css">.wow{
opacity:0.0;
font-size:14px; color: white;
text-align: center;
height: 250px;
width: 150px;
padding: 25px;
text-transform: uppercase;
line-height: 130%; background-color:#0c0c0c;
-webkit-transition: opacity .6s linear;
-moz-transition: opacity .6s linear;
-o-transition: opacity .6s linear;
}

.wow:hover {
opacity: .78
}</style>

<center><div style="width:454; height:50; background-color:000000; border:5px solid #EEF0E2; margin-bottom:-10"></div><table><td><div style="width:200; height:300; background-image:url(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lw36i8oC6C1qfdymho1_250.png); border:5px solid #EEF0E2"><div class="wow">.
<div style=align:justify>
tag: open<br><br>
I’d tell you to be prepared but... I love catching people off guard
</div>
</div></div></td><td><div style="width:250; height:300; background-color:000000; border:5px solid #EEF0E2; margin-left:-10"><div style="width:180; height: 230; position:relative; top:25; left:25; overflow:auto; text-align:justify; font-size:9; font-family:arial; padding:5; line-height:100%; border:5px solid #EEF0E2; background-color:#fff; color:#232323;">

Rain is a natural solvent. She can feel the gritty salts sliding from her cheeks—where a mud dipped sleeve had mindlessly rubbed—now washing itself of the dirt and city filth London had slowly become. Not the London she had been introduced to hot off the Irish docks. The daunting light of street poles should send her back into hiding; it isn’t safe here. But Doblin ( daughter of no one and rat to everyone ) is not afraid. She is careless and reckless and any other word you can tag a ’-less’ suffix onto the tail of, because she is a girl- no. A woman. Of too many thoughts and not enough room left for concern and regret.
<p>
Because to see a man kill, and to invite herself at his hip the next moment reminds anyone that innocence is gone. And in its place ignorance. But she doesn’t care, and she knows it certainly doesn’t pay to.
<p>
So she moved efficiently. Despite the thinness in her hips and much-too-long legs, a girl of her dimensions could move quietly and without effort. She was small. Agile. Thin, but not without gauche. Chris had often mentioned a word before; one he used to describe himself, as well—Efficient. He liked that he was small, and in turn, she had begun to appreciate her own lack thereof. She understood it to be an advantage rather than a feat.
<p>
And no matter how tight she pulls her army green coat up over those thin shoulders, there is still a frigid sting prickling through her bones. If she says the rain against her skin is not cold, then the winds will surly call her bluff. Beneath that much too large coat- the one Christopher had much so kindly turned a blind eye to when she’d slipped out the door in otherwise nothing more than a baby doll playsuit- her body shakes where she is very malnourished. Like the dogs you see on street corners. Scavengers in alleys and street side markets, begging for scraps and licking at the heels of strangers
<p>
Holding up the collar of her rain-heavy as she squeezes between two ( much ) older men crowding a pub entrance; instantly becoming the cootie catcher of attention from every drunken body downing shots of who-the-hell-knows-what, and slurring decade old tales of the war before the war. They were stories she’d often come to catch as well—as a child squeezing between allies and into wood panels where the old, musty lumber was peeling away from its foundation. And in the winters ( if you were praying on a full moon ) you’d find a few soggy notes and a pocket’s worth in change if you dug around in the piss and mud for long enough.
<p>
But it’s warmer in here. Not by enough, but just so, that the colour in her cheeks begins to face and the starry dappling of freckles remerges from the bright winter’s blush that had crept over her snow paled skin. It doesn’t take long for her to find the lesser of the crowded booths to slide into; taking with her a menu she’d slipped from the waitress’s stand just at the door, pulling it up to her face as she feels for the deck of cards stuck just in the breast pocket of her coat. Shuffling them under the voices of the pub drunks till she was ready. Giving her yellowed deck of fifty-two a final, calculated cut before she was ready.
<p>
The menu was flipped down and her voice—at one time, from first glance of the tiny ginger, seemed so very out of place. But she pushed back her mousey curls and cleared her throat as loud as humanly possible, catching the interest of a few nearby observers. “Alright you half-assed lot of shitfaced scurvy dogs, who wants to lose some money?” and mocking men into a challenge always did the trick.
</div></div></td></table>
<div style="width:454; height:50; background-color:000000; border:5px solid #EEF0E2; margin-top:-10"></div><center>&copy; snap boom pow! </center></center>[/dohtml]
Sep 23 2012, 09:13 PM
[dohtml]
<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Amatic+SC' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
<center>

<div style="width: 354px; font-family: 'Amatic SC', cursive; font-size: 56px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 50px; background-color: #000000; color: #ffffff; padding-bottom: 5px;">DANCING SLOWLY IN<br> AN EMPTY ROOM

<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzidc3wyDj1r2ht84o1_500.jpg" width="354">

<div style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #000000; text-align: justify; text-indent: 15px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; line-height: 9px; padding: 2px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; border-top: 20px solid #000000;">
<div style=margin-top:-20px; margin-left:-5px;>
<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://flash-mp3-player.net/medias/player_mp3_mini.swf" width="354" height="20">
<param name="movie" value="http://flash-mp3-player.net/medias/player_mp3_mini.swf" />
<param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" />
<param name="FlashVars" value="mp3=http%3A//k006.kiwi6.com/hotlink/wg9svt8st2/01_the_lonely.mp3" />
</object></div>

Rain is a natural solvent. She can feel the gritty salts sliding from her cheeks—where a mud dipped sleeve had mindlessly rubbed—now washing itself of the dirt and city filth London had slowly become. Not the London she had been introduced to hot off the Irish docks. The daunting light of street poles should send her back into hiding; it isn’t safe here. But Doblin ( daughter of no one and rat to everyone ) is not afraid. She is careless and reckless and any other word you can tag a ’-less’ suffix onto the tail of, because she is a girl- no. A woman. Of too many thoughts and not enough room left for concern and regret.
<p>
Because to see a man kill, and to invite herself at his hip the next moment reminds anyone that innocence is gone. And in its place ignorance. But she doesn’t care, and she knows it certainly doesn’t pay to.
<p>
So she moved efficiently. Despite the thinness in her hips and much-too-long legs, a girl of her dimensions could move quietly and without effort. She was small. Agile. Thin, but not without gauche. Chris had often mentioned a word before; one he used to describe himself, as well—Efficient. He liked that he was small, and in turn, she had begun to appreciate her own lack thereof. She understood it to be an advantage rather than a feat.
<p>
And no matter how tight she pulls her army green coat up over those thin shoulders, there is still a frigid sting prickling through her bones. If she says the rain against her skin is not cold, then the winds will surly call her bluff. Beneath that much too large coat- the one Christopher had much so kindly turned a blind eye to when she’d slipped out the door in otherwise nothing more than a baby doll playsuit- her body shakes where she is very malnourished. Like the dogs you see on street corners. Scavengers in alleys and street side markets, begging for scraps and licking at the heels of strangers
<p>
Holding up the collar of her rain-heavy as she squeezes between two ( much ) older men crowding a pub entrance; instantly becoming the cootie catcher of attention from every drunken body downing shots of who-the-hell-knows-what, and slurring decade old tales of the war before the war. They were stories she’d often come to catch as well—as a child squeezing between allies and into wood panels where the old, musty lumber was peeling away from its foundation. And in the winters ( if you were praying on a full moon ) you’d find a few soggy notes and a pocket’s worth in change if you dug around in the piss and mud for long enough.
<p>
But it’s warmer in here. Not by enough, but just so, that the colour in her cheeks begins to face and the starry dappling of freckles remerges from the bright winter’s blush that had crept over her snow paled skin. It doesn’t take long for her to find the lesser of the crowded booths to slide into; taking with her a menu she’d slipped from the waitress’s stand just at the door, pulling it up to her face as she feels for the deck of cards stuck just in the breast pocket of her coat. Shuffling them under the voices of the pub drunks till she was ready. Giving her yellowed deck of fifty-two a final, calculated cut before she was ready.
<p>
The menu was flipped down and her voice—at one time, from first glance of the tiny ginger, seemed so very out of place. But she pushed back her mousey curls and cleared her throat as loud as humanly possible, catching the interest of a few nearby observers. “Alright you half-assed lot of shitfaced scurvy dogs, who wants to lose some money?” and mocking men into a challenge always did the trick.

</div>
</div>
cassie at <a href="http://forums.athousandfireflies.com/index.php?showuser=8648">atf</a> & <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6">shine</a>!
</center>

[/dohtml]
Sep 9 2012, 03:49 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Poiret+One' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.mainbg { width:350px; background-color:#fff; border:20px solid #fff; }
.lyric1 { width:350px; text-align:center; font-family:'poiret one'; font-size:20px; color:#000; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:110% letter-spacing:-1px; }
.lyric2 { width:350px; text-align:justify; font-family:century gothic; font-size:8px; color:#a4a4a4; text-transform:uppercase; line-height:7px; font-style:italic; }

.charimage { width:150px; height:200px; background-image:url(http://i48.tinypic.com/2qbak9y.png); border:6px solid #000; }

.padders { padding-top:10px; }
.statbox { width:188px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color:#000; text-align:center; font-family:'poiret one'; font-size:10px; color:#fff; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:0px; -moz-transition: all 0.6s ease-in-out; -webkit-transition: all 0.6s ease-in-out; -o-transition: all 0.6s ease-in-out; }
.statbox:hover { width:188px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color:#95CFB7; text-align:center; font-family:'poiret one'; font-size:10px; color:#fff; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:0px; -moz-border-radius:0px 15px 15px 0px; -webkit-border-radius:0px 15px 15px 0px; }
.textbox { width:345px; padding-top:4px; padding-bottom:4px; font-family:calibri; font-size:10px; color:#000; text-transform:none; text-align:justify; line-height:10px; }
.endspacer { width:390px; height:20px; background-color:#000; }</style><center><div class="mainbg"><div class="lyric1">

from the woods! <br>
they are coming from the woods!

</div><div class="lyric2">

From the woods, from the woods. Once a vision from the woods. At a point between two tracks. Bound by tape, and by wire. Bruised and beaten in the fire. So the metals faded black. Newer ropes, stronger nets. Have us plumbing further depths. For the wolves we'll never be. Should we go, would we die. If the weight it was to slide. Drag our secrets to the sea. All these things are ever lost. Stillness has brought my love to cost----------------------------

</div><br><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td><div class="charimage"></div></td><td><div class="padders"></div><div class="statbox">

curious

</div><div class="padders"></div><div class="statbox">

wild

</div><div class="padders"></div><div class="statbox">

sarcastic

</div><div class="padders"></div><div class="statbox">

brazen

</div><div class="padders"></div><div class="statbox">

ty lexy <3

</div></td></table><br><div class="textbox">

RAISED BY WOLVES--- Doblin Ketling ( IS THE EXACT PERSONIFICATION OF THE COLOUR RED ) is the neighbourhood wild child redhead. She's energetic and spontaneous. Open minded and definitely going to be the cat curiosity killed. if Christopher isn't the one to kill her first. Technically she's Jewish; her family and family's family ( everyone she never got to meet ) were all Jewish and Dobs wore an armband, but the beliefs and typical traditions were never practiced. So Doblin doesn't know a lot about it. and she hasn't worn hers since her best friend, Liam Colins has been shipped into a camp before she left from Dublin to England.
<p>
Her mother was abusive; and she still has a lot of both the mental and physical scars from that, but she's very level minded about it. Doesn't regret anything and pities her mother just as much as she would had her mother been a perfect human being. She's a philosopher and a ruffian. Very odd mix for a girl, but she manages it just fine. Depending on the person decides what side of her comes out. If you're lucky, you might get the cocktail Doblin. Which is pretty talk for everything all at once. The really, exposed Doblin.
<p>
She's a very open, raw, brazen character by nature, but nonetheless there are still things she doesn't show openly. A lot of scars. So it would be interesting to find a tiny group of people or person she can have that with. BLAH BLAH WALL WALL .
<p>
Very good at advice and telling out what you're doing wrong and how to fix it. Blunt enough to be considered rude, but if its true, then how can it be offensive? //logic logic. truthfully, she's very caring and fairly intelligent. Despite not really knowing how to read too much. but very indifferent and not very impressionable. You'll have to work damn hard for her to give a shit. Boring is ignored. Interesting is tested.
<P>
But uhm. She's kind of just a ragtag street kid scrounging on London's leftovers taking what she can ( and stealing what couches she can ) in order to stay alive. She kips at the youngest Barrett's place a lot... being that she sort of followed him home. but she does also choose to stay on her own a lot. Just to be independent of people :l she's stubborn. UUHMM... there are things in her app, too. if you're that curious. But things are pretty open right now :] LOVE HER HATE HER. Y'KNOW.

</div></div><div class="endspacer"></div></center>[/dohtml]
Sep 1 2012, 08:30 PM
//knife :l
Jul 25 2012, 06:46 AM
Last Visitors


Jan 1 2014, 12:38 AM




Mar 3 2013, 12:24 PM




Jan 29 2013, 10:50 AM




Jan 29 2013, 06:38 AM




Oct 17 2012, 02:25 PM




Oct 14 2012, 12:24 AM



Comments
No comments posted.
Add Comment