#app:OC
Text
Bethania Haddad
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Alyssa
How old are you?
22
Preferred Pronouns?
she/her
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
none.
Time Zone?
pst
Activity?
Fairly often. I’m in other roleplays but I think I can balance them pretty well to be on at least every couple of days (although I will aim for more frequency than that don’t worry)
How did you find us?
lsrpg tag
Are you okay with RPing smut?
not really but i am willing to discuss it.
Why this character?
I think she’s different than what the roleplay has and it’d be really exciting to portray her in this rp :)
Alternate means of contact?
the blog im applying from
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet BETHANIA HADDAD. She is TWENTY-FOUR and people mistake her for EMERAUDE TOUBIA. She is currently A POP STAR but would rather be AN R&B ARTIST.
“yeah, you’ve got it all, but you’ve got it all wrong.” ♪
BETHANIA prefers to be called/goes by BETT.
+ generous, ambitious, reliable
- inhibited, self-centered, appeasing
The Past
Her mother and father were an unlikely pair, or so everyone said. Her father’s family lived in Mexico for generations, just like her mother’s but her father’s Muslim faith and being Lebanese didn’t fit well with her mother’s Catholicism and native Mexican roots. Nonetheless, it led to a unique upbringing. Her cousins on her mother’s side were aspiring musicians, six years older than she. Despite being on the shy side, she found them fun to hang out with. They handed her a guitar to play with them, but when she started to get comfortable and sing along, they discovered their little cousin had something promising. Her mother warned her to not listen to her cousins, but when she sang she lost herself in the words and the music. Performing with her cousins was cut short when her parents started to plan moving to the States for their careers. Laredo, Texas provided a different atmosphere than rural Puebla and she was exposed to different musical styles and artists, in particular Michael Jackson and Mariah Carey. Still, her parents urged her that school needed to come first and she could perform her “karaoke” as they called it, whenever she had time. However as she struggled with her parents tumultuous relationship, she turned to singing more often, even writing her own music. Her songs were primarily in Spanish, being her first language but she covered English songs as well, losing her accent when she did.
The first song she wrote with the help of a friend in English was what catapulted her to being heard. Her singing voice was always lower than her normal one and the way her words almost melted together along with the strong percussion and piano left a haunting, yearning and most importantly a powerful tone to her already vulnerable lyrics. While she sang well in Spanish, it was English that was popular among her friends. It wouldn’t be until she was twenty-two and almost finished with university that the music she recorded for her friends’ entertainment was passed around and got into the hands of popular DJs and Medieval Entertainment came to her with an offer. Everything was going great until she realized she was to be marketed as a sexy Latina, their argument being it was a good contrast to the frailty of her voice. Not only that but she had to argue with them on her songwriting, compromising to 20-80. 20% of the songs she would write, 80% it would be her working with a lyricist and she didn’t have much of a say to how her music sounded. As if that wasn’t enough, in her first music video she appeared in lingerie in a dark room room lights on her curves and cutting to scenes alluding to sex with a man. Despite making it clear she wasn’t interested in men, management argued her sexuality wouldn’t sell unless she appeared attainable to men. She agreed to do it. What was one video? She soon found out they had made a box for her and she was to fit in it no matter how much of herself she had to remove. Bethania Haddad was too ethnic and she was sold as Bett.
The Present
Bett has gained a following since signing onto Medieval Entertainment and she has been present as a pop star, if only occasionally dipping into hip hop sounds. She has appeared on tracks of other musicians and has toured with a number of them to dip into their fanbase. However, her number one focus is music. While most of her songs are written by the company’s lyricist, she still has the few that she wrote all by herself, however those have minimal promotion by the company. She has released one album, Decadence, since signing onto Medieval but has been made to work on her second album as she has just returned to Harmony from touring. Despite exhausted and almost losing her voice while performing, they have since hired a vocal coach and her first session to begin the new album has been set. Her inability to express her sexuality has led to suffering and many attempts to turn into what she’s sold as to save herself from more. She has dated women but since signing onto Medieval nothing lasts when she refuses to publicize their relationship or even worse must act like she is dating someone else while in a relationship. Most end with girls being paid for their silence. However, one leak remains as she tried to go behind the company’s back and the source turned around and sparked rumors of her sexuality. Now that she’s back from touring, they need to work on that, starting with a potential contract about pursuing relationships.
The Future
There’s nothing Bett enjoys more than singing and writing. To her, she can’t do one without the other but has become interested in experimenting musical sounds and longs to be able to produce and write her own music. She has always been inspired by R&B sounds and wants to go experimental and have other sounds bleed into her music, she doesn’t want to be tied down to a specific genre. Bett also wants to show her fans who she really is and stop hiding behind this facade a company has created for her. She is living a lie and each day she has to fight her monsters just to keep going. If it wasn’t for music she wouldn’t be able to survive, but she also would not be in the position she currently is in, ironically. Ultimately she knows she must break away from Medieval Entertainment but does not know where to go and who would take her. Her family and old friends have left her. She’s afraid to go to independent and doesn’t want a lawsuit since she has signed a contract and knows she must uphold their demands or else any chance of a career in music will be ruined
Relationships
Shawn Olson - employer
April Li - employer
Darren Bartlett - employer
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Bethania Haddad is an oc
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
tw: child abuse, emotional abuse, homophobia
“Mami, it has nothing to do with you,” Bett spoke, the Spanish sounds creeping into her English, but her mother had always smiled when her daughter spoke English. However, her mother’s tears and emotional state left Spanish on her mother’s tongue, English sounded too foreign, too unfamiliar at the moment. Unfamiliar territory meant clinging to familiar things.
“Es un enfermedad, Bethania.” It’s a sickness, disease.
“No!” She urged, her throat tightening at her mother’s ignorance.
Bett practiced telling her parents. She found an answer to every possible argument against her sexuality, but right now, she could only utter ‘no’.
Her mother mentioned her father, how he was going to yell, how he might kick her out of the house.
“No le va gustar.”
He isn’t going to like this.
“What? What will he not like? My happiness?”
Her mother shot her a look, taking her back to the time when she threw a tantrum at the market, wanting to get candy, just one candy or the time when she told her she was being unreasonable for thinking her father cheating just because he came home late.
When her mother stood up from the couch, she put her hands up, wiping them with the towel she had been holding onto and dropping it in front of her.
“Your father is on his way home. I must cook.”
She turned around and headed for the kitchen as Bett leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees, head down. She imagined her mother holding her in her arms, like when she got scared of the cucuy in her closet and found safety in her mother’s touch, in the way she hummed a lullaby until she fell asleep.
Instead, she got a turned back and when her father came home a slap on the cheek and a burn, a burn that she felt down to her core, as if it had charred her insides and she was left with nothing more than her bones.
The smell of burning tortillas while her parents argued underneath her forever reminded her of the day she learned of conditional love.
2+ Character Development Questions:
Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any?
She has two lobe piercings on her right ear, along with just one on the left. As persuaded by the label, she got a belly peircing to show when she exposes her midriff. She’s never been one for tattoos, but while on tour she got a Venus symbol on the side of her ring finger on her left hand, to remind herself that she is who she is no matter what she is being portrayed as. Management has yet to notice. She does not want anymore tattoos or piercings.
What is their least favorite memory of growing up? tw: domestic abuse
The time her father and mother argued to the point where they fought physically. Punches or slaps weren’t done, but her mother pushed her father and her father held his mother’s hands down to prevent her from laying hands on him again, but he held them so tight it hurt her mother and she was left with bruises and her parents didn’t speak to each other for days and she had to act as a messenger between them.
If they could time travel, would they go to the past? Or the future? When would they visit? What would they do? Would they change anything?
She would go to her future. She’s not one to look back and regret things. The past is the past and she can’t change that. She can only change the future. So she would go maybe five to seven years in the future and see how her life is like, how her career changed, how her love life changed, does she have a family? Is she happy?
2+ Goals
Completely produce her own music and experiment with sounds, especially synths, drum machines and samplers thus going with her dark R&B sound.
Leave Medieval Entertainment and go to another label or be completely independent.
Show her fans her true self as well be in charge of her own image and live a life of her own and hopefully repair things with her parents in the process
Anything Else?
nothing
0 notes
Text
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Zero or Z or Zee or something along those lines.
How old are you?
17. Please don’t have this present on the OOC page.
Preferred Pronouns?
I respond to any pronouns. Female is most often used.
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Suicide, choking/strangling, self-mutilation. I’m fine as long as they’re marked and I’m expecting them there, but surprises are not appreciated.
Time Zone?
EST.
Activity?
At least enough to fit requirements. Otherwise it depends on real life and how much time I spend sleeping.
How did you find us?
Found might be the wrong word.
Are you okay with RPing smut?
No.
Why this character?
Well, I wrote him for the purposes of me playing him.
Alternate means of contact?
Skype. Text. Snapchat (this one’s actually the most reliable). WhatsApp (also hella reliable). Messenger pigeon.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet NIMROD ABSALOM. He is TWENTY-SEVEN and people mistake him for SOME FACECLAIM. He is DRIFTER with no real ASPIRATION.
“Yet I’m still collecting bones, but that’s why closets are for skeletons.“ ♪
NIMROD goes by NIM, if he goes by anything.
+ Capable, Incisive, Self-Reliant
- Ambiguous, Intolerant, Nihilistic
The Past
North to South, East to West, it always felt as if Nimrod had lived everywhere but home. Both his parents worked for the government. What they did, he wasn’t allowed to ask. There were always benefits, like that even as a boy he was fluent in about ten languages, but there were just as many pros. He was always the new kid, wherever he went, and it turned out that making friends just to leave them was more toil than it was worth. It was assumed that he’d be leaving in a few months, anyway. The one thing he did have was his family, who, despite the secrets his parents had to keep, was very close. The only thing Nimrod ever remembers wanting is to be just like his father, with a distinguished military career, and pride in his country. Nimrod wanted to be proud in what he stood for, too. And, despite being out of his home country often, he was always connected to it, hoping that the nation would be what he was looking for. That he would be able to see Israel just like his father did.
At eighteen, finally old enough to join the IDF, Nimrod found his first, and only home. He was thrilled to finally be able to stay in one place, and to get a chance to make his parents proud. Adjusting to the lifestyle, training, not needing to switch between languages… It should all have been foreign, but in reality it what what he had been preparing for his whole life. It wasn’t long before he was rising up in the ranks, signing onto a unit that would keep him for longer than the customary three years without a second thought. But that was things got messy. On his last year in the army, out on the front lines, a confrontation didn’t go as planned. All Nimrod knew was that when he woke up, he couldn’t see out of one eye. His parents were there, as were the doctors. Nimrod was told he couldn’t serve anymore. Shrapnel from an explosion caused him to lose an eye, as well as a leg, below the knee. He was devastated. Everything he’d worked towards was ruined. There was no more plan for his life.
The Present
After rehabilitation, he got used to his injuries. Nimrod compensated, just as strong, fast, and able as he was, so long as he had his prosthetic. He appeared normal. But he was still a liability, and despite trying to prove otherwise, he was deemed unfit for duty. Israel no longer felt like home, but became something he was ashamed of. It reminded him of what he’d lost in life. Slowly, he stopped talking to the friends he’d made while serving, and everyone but his parents. But he even began to cut himself off from them. One day he decided he couldn’t stay there, too ashamed by things he couldn’t change. Nimrod caught a plane to America, deciding there was as good a place as any. But not New York, or anywhere on the East Coast. He’d spent too much time there, hoping for a future he couldn’t have. The West Coast would have to do. And so, Nimrod found himself in Harmony, California. It was as good a place as any to stay, for now. Far away from Israel, and any connection to it.
The Future
There isn’t much Nimrod wants for himself anymore. Eventually he’ll need to get a job, but that’s all he knows for now. Getting a job means settling, somewhat, though, and he isn’t ready for that much of a commitment. For that much openness. Nimrod won’t even volunteer his name anymore. Ambiguity leads to forgetfulness. And if no one remembers him, how can anyone grow attached? He’s sick of losing things. So as long as he has nothing, there isn’t anything left to lose.
Relationships
N/A
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
NIMROD is TAKEN.
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
It was only a matter of time before the ceiling collapsed. Mold stained the ceiling, creeping out from the corner over his bed. It was darker than any other part of the drywall above his head, the material starting to warp and curl onto itself. Occasionally some water slipped down to the floor below, the wood there warping as a result. It probably would have made more sense for Nimrod to place his mattress in any of the other corners of the room, especially once he’d noticed that it had started growing mold. But, practical as he was the majority of the time, the drip reminded him of better days. Ones where he didn’t even have the comfort of a mattress and, despite the fact that too much water had certainly not been a problem, the conditions were much worse than the ones here. It may have been wrong to miss a war zone, but at least there he had a reason to wake up in the morning. Today, just like every other day after he’d arrived in America, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the thought that there might one day be a reason.
Nimrod’s eyes slid shut, just as a drop of water hit his nostril, slowly oozing it’s way down his cheek. It smelt stale, just as everything else in his apartment did. It was a small, broken, attic apartment, but that was perfect for him. The accommodations were much better than the ones he felt at home with. Rent was exceedingly cheap, And no one, landlord included, bothered him. Most importantly, it was quiet. He could hear his breathing, time to the tapping of his toe against the inside of his boot. In for ten, hold for five, out for ten. Repeat. A trick he’d learned, to keep from thinking too hard. Focus on something simple, and put all your concentration in it. He didn’t need thoughts, not wanting that headache thrumming against his temples at the moment.
The knocking of hard-soled shoes against the floor threw off his counting. He hadn’t expected the sound, faint as it was. Whoever lived below him usually did not return so early. Two in the morning being early for his neighbor. But regardless of the hour, that return always caused a clamor. For a moment Nimrod contemplated going down and snapping at whoever it was (man or woman, he never cared to check). But, just as he did every night, he decided against it, not worth the fuss. He knew well enough that confrontation turned too many eyes in his direction, and while he used to relish it… It wasn’t worth the fuss anymore. But the noise did prompt him to get up, a soft groan escaping his lips as he crossed into the bathroom.
With a squeak, the faucet turned and water poured out, washing over his waiting hands. Absentmindedly, Nimrod brushed his teeth, toe still tapping a steady rhythm as he counted how long it took him to accomplish the task. He rinsed his hands again, before raising it to his face to slip out his prosthetic. He rinsed it, quick, then dropped it into a container of lukewarm saline solution, twisting the lid on tight to make sure nothing got in. An infection would be a hassle. He turned and walked out again, back to bed. This time he sat on the edge, instead of laying down, slowly undressing. Shirt first, neatly folded and placed at the foot of his bed, followed by his pants. Socks afterwards, and soon a plastic leg joined the pile. Then Nimrod lay down again, closing his eyes. But this time the drip wasn’t the only sound in the room. It assisted a hum, keeping time for it, as Nimrod slowly sang himself to sleep, just as his mother would. God, he missed her.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What is their favorite memory of growing up?
There were a few months where Nimrod and his parents were staying in Rome, the adults doing some work at the consulate there. He was a vivd recollection of walking along the cobblestone backstreets in the city, only half certain of where he was, trying to get home when he decided to skip school. He found himself lost after a while, and decided to step into a church to find someone who knew the way back. But instead of finding a friendly churchgoer, or even a member of the clergy, he stumbled upon a choir rehearsing. Sitting in the back, just beyond where the colors of the stained glass window illuminated the pews, he listened for a while, in awe. It was the first time he remembers seeing something truly beautiful.
Nimrod “Nim” Absalom (etymology of his name)
As far as last name goes, Absalom comes from the Hebrew name Avshalom, roughly translated to “my father is peace.” Something was lost in translation however, the English spelling being butchered by a relative whose spelling wasn’t the strongest. But it stuck, and for surnames, it’s not horrendous.
It’s Nimrod’s first name that’s a problem. It didn’t seem to be when he was named in Israel, and no other part of the world seemed to have any issues with it. Nowhere but America, but seeing as that’s where he resides… Originally it’s assumed to mean “rebel” in Hebrew, and came to mean “hunter” in English until Bugs Bunny turned the connotation of the word to “fool.”
And seeing as he was stuck with the name, he decided to shorten it to just “Nim” while he was in English speaking countries, something his parents protested, but a new kid had to do what he could against bullying. Now he prefers to just not mention a name at all, though he still pulls out his old nickname if he’s forced to share any name. He hasn’t had too many issues so far.
2+ Goals
Nimrod wants to forget. Not necessarily to find himself with amnesia (though he wouldn’t be opposed), but he wants to be able to be able to to wake up in the morning without regret haunting him. Forgetting seems to be the best (and only) way to do so.
Proving he’s fit for duty is of the utmost importance. Nimrod refuses to see himself as invalid, or even weaker than anyone else. Mentally and physically. He wants to get back to a point where the people who called him unfit have to eat their words. How he plans to make that happen? He has no idea.
Anything Else?
Found my muchness.
I don’t have a faceclaim for him, I probably need one. I can find one and get an okay, or if there’s a face you want used, that probably also works. P.O.C. probably doesn’t work, seeing as he’s a few generations Israeli, but any Mediterranean or European looking male in his mid/late twenties and has the build of a soldier/athlete will probably work. Let me know which option.
0 notes
Text
Nimrod Absalom (OC app)
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Zero or Z or Zee or something along those lines.
How old are you?
17. Please don’t have this present on the OOC page.
Preferred Pronouns?
I respond to any pronouns. Female is most often used.
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Suicide, choking/strangling, self-mutilation. I’m fine as long as they’re marked and I’m expecting them there, but surprises are not appreciated.
Time Zone?
EST.
Activity?
At least enough to fit requirements. Otherwise it depends on real life and how much time I spend sleeping.
How did you find us?
Found might be the wrong word.
Are you okay with RPing smut?
No.
Why this character?
Well, I wrote him for the purposes of me playing him.
Alternate means of contact?
Skype. Text. Snapchat (this one’s actually the most reliable). WhatsApp (also hella reliable). Messenger pigeon.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet NIMROD ABSALOM. He is TWENTY-SEVEN and people mistake him for SOME FACECLAIM. He is DRIFTER with no real ASPIRATION.
“Yet I’m still collecting bones, but that’s why closets are for skeletons.“ ♪
NIMROD goes by NIM, if he goes by anything.
+ Capable, Incisive, Self-Reliant
- Ambiguous, Intolerant, Nihilistic
The Past
North to South, East to West, it always felt as if Nimrod had lived everywhere but home. Both his parents worked for the government. What they did, he wasn’t allowed to ask. There were always benefits, like that even as a boy he was fluent in about ten languages, but there were just as many pros. He was always the new kid, wherever he went, and it turned out that making friends just to leave them was more toil than it was worth. It was assumed that he’d be leaving in a few months, anyway. The one thing he did have was his family, who, despite the secrets his parents had to keep, was very close. The only thing Nimrod ever remembers wanting is to be just like his father, with a distinguished military career, and pride in his country. Nimrod wanted to be proud in what he stood for, too. And, despite being out of his home country often, he was always connected to it, hoping that the nation would be what he was looking for. That he would be able to see Israel just like his father did.
At eighteen, finally old enough to join the IDF, Nimrod found his first, and only home. He was thrilled to finally be able to stay in one place, and to get a chance to make his parents proud. Adjusting to the lifestyle, training, not needing to switch between languages… It should all have been foreign, but in reality it what what he had been preparing for his whole life. It wasn’t long before he was rising up in the ranks, signing onto a unit that would keep him for longer than the customary three years without a second thought. But that was things got messy. On his last year in the army, out on the front lines, a confrontation didn’t go as planned. All Nimrod knew was that when he woke up, he couldn’t see out of one eye. His parents were there, as were the doctors. Nimrod was told he couldn’t serve anymore. Shrapnel from an explosion caused him to lose an eye, as well as a leg, below the knee. He was devastated. Everything he’d worked towards was ruined. There was no more plan for his life.
The Present
After rehabilitation, he got used to his injuries. Nimrod compensated, just as strong, fast, and able as he was, so long as he had his prosthetic. He appeared normal. But he was still a liability, and despite trying to prove otherwise, he was deemed unfit for duty. Israel no longer felt like home, but became something he was ashamed of. It reminded him of what he’d lost in life. Slowly, he stopped talking to the friends he’d made while serving, and everyone but his parents. But he even began to cut himself off from them. One day he decided he couldn’t stay there, too ashamed by things he couldn’t change. Nimrod caught a plane to America, deciding there was as good a place as any. But not New York, or anywhere on the East Coast. He’d spent too much time there, hoping for a future he couldn’t have. The West Coast would have to do. And so, Nimrod found himself in Harmony, California. It was as good a place as any to stay, for now. Far away from Israel, and any connection to it.
The Future
There isn’t much Nimrod wants for himself anymore. Eventually he’ll need to get a job, but that’s all he knows for now. Getting a job means settling, somewhat, though, and he isn’t ready for that much of a commitment. For that much openness. Nimrod won’t even volunteer his name anymore. Ambiguity leads to forgetfulness. And if no one remembers him, how can anyone grow attached? He’s sick of losing things. So as long as he has nothing, there isn’t anything left to lose.
Relationships
N/A
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
NIMROD is TAKEN.
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
It was only a matter of time before the ceiling collapsed. Mold stained the ceiling, creeping out from the corner over his bed. It was darker than any other part of the drywall above his head, the material starting to warp and curl onto itself. Occasionally some water slipped down to the floor below, the wood there warping as a result. It probably would have made more sense for Nimrod to place his mattress in any of the other corners of the room, especially once he’d noticed that it had started growing mold. But, practical as he was the majority of the time, the drip reminded him of better days. Ones where he didn’t even have the comfort of a mattress and, despite the fact that too much water had certainly not been a problem, the conditions were much worse than the ones here. It may have been wrong to miss a war zone, but at least there he had a reason to wake up in the morning. Today, just like every other day after he’d arrived in America, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the thought that there might one day be a reason.
Nimrod’s eyes slid shut, just as a drop of water hit his nostril, slowly oozing it’s way down his cheek. It smelt stale, just as everything else in his apartment did. It was a small, broken, attic apartment, but that was perfect for him. The accommodations were much better than the ones he felt at home with. Rent was exceedingly cheap, And no one, landlord included, bothered him. Most importantly, it was quiet. He could hear his breathing, time to the tapping of his toe against the inside of his boot. In for ten, hold for five, out for ten. Repeat. A trick he’d learned, to keep from thinking too hard. Focus on something simple, and put all your concentration in it. He didn’t need thoughts, not wanting that headache thrumming against his temples at the moment.
The knocking of hard-soled shoes against the floor threw off his counting. He hadn’t expected the sound, faint as it was. Whoever lived below him usually did not return so early. Two in the morning being early for his neighbor. But regardless of the hour, that return always caused a clamor. For a moment Nimrod contemplated going down and snapping at whoever it was (man or woman, he never cared to check). But, just as he did every night, he decided against it, not worth the fuss. He knew well enough that confrontation turned too many eyes in his direction, and while he used to relish it… It wasn’t worth the fuss anymore. But the noise did prompt him to get up, a soft groan escaping his lips as he crossed into the bathroom.
With a squeak, the faucet turned and water poured out, washing over his waiting hands. Absentmindedly, Nimrod brushed his teeth, toe still tapping a steady rhythm as he counted how long it took him to accomplish the task. He rinsed his hands again, before raising it to his face to slip out his prosthetic. He rinsed it, quick, then dropped it into a container of lukewarm saline solution, twisting the lid on tight to make sure nothing got in. An infection would be a hassle. He turned and walked out again, back to bed. This time he sat on the edge, instead of laying down, slowly undressing. Shirt first, neatly folded and placed at the foot of his bed, followed by his pants. Socks afterwards, and soon a plastic leg joined the pile. Then Nimrod lay down again, closing his eyes. But this time the drip wasn’t the only sound in the room. It assisted a hum, keeping time for it, as Nimrod slowly sang himself to sleep, just as his mother would. God, he missed her.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What is their favorite memory of growing up?
There were a few months where Nimrod and his parents were staying in Rome, the adults doing some work at the consulate there. He was a vivd recollection of walking along the cobblestone backstreets in the city, only half certain of where he was, trying to get home when he decided to skip school. He found himself lost after a while, and decided to step into a church to find someone who knew the way back. But instead of finding a friendly churchgoer, or even a member of the clergy, he stumbled upon a choir rehearsing. Sitting in the back, just beyond where the colors of the stained glass window illuminated the pews, he listened for a while, in awe. It was the first time he remembers seeing something truly beautiful.
Nimrod “Nim” Absalom (etymology of his name)
As far as last name goes, Absalom comes from the Hebrew name Avshalom, roughly translated to “my father is peace.” Something was lost in translation however, the English spelling being butchered by a relative whose spelling wasn’t the strongest. But it stuck, and for surnames, it’s not horrendous.
It’s Nimrod’s first name that’s a problem. It didn’t seem to be when he was named in Israel, and no other part of the world seemed to have any issues with it. Nowhere but America, but seeing as that’s where he resides… Originally it’s assumed to mean “rebel” in Hebrew, and came to mean “hunter” in English until Bugs Bunny turned the connotation of the word to “fool.”
And seeing as he was stuck with the name, he decided to shorten it to just “Nim” while he was in English speaking countries, something his parents protested, but a new kid had to do what he could against bullying. Now he prefers to just not mention a name at all, though he still pulls out his old nickname if he’s forced to share any name. He hasn’t had too many issues so far.
2+ Goals
Nimrod wants to forget. Not necessarily to find himself with amnesia (though he wouldn’t be opposed), but he wants to be able to be able to to wake up in the morning without regret haunting him. Forgetting seems to be the best (and only) way to do so.
Proving he’s fit for duty is of the utmost importance. Nimrod refuses to see himself as invalid, or even weaker than anyone else. Mentally and physically. He wants to get back to a point where the people who called him unfit have to eat their words. How he plans to make that happen? He has no idea.
Anything Else?
Found my muchness.
I don’t have a faceclaim for him, I probably need one. I can find one and get an okay, or if there’s a face you want used, that probably also works. P.O.C. probably doesn’t work, seeing as he’s a few generations Israeli, but any Mediterranean or European looking male in his mid/late twenties and has the build of a soldier/athlete will probably work. Let me know which option.
0 notes
Text
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Diana
How old are you?
twenty – one (turning twenty – two august 17th please get me a present
Preferred Pronouns?
she/her is fine but I mean I’m also great with they/them
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
brutality (no really, i am not white ooc and it’s very important to remember this), transphobia
Time Zone?
cst
Activity?
i’m generally almost always on but i will be starting up school again so about four hours of my day will go towards travelling to the school and some hours will be taken up by homework (but usually i can do homework and be online). and of course, I have a job so there’s that to keep in mind too! but i will get on whenever i can.
How did you find us?
i honestly don’t remember. i remember wanting to join sometime last year – i think! You guys have been around for a while and i have very short term memory so i don’t know when it was or how i learned of your rp. It’s been ages!
Are you okay with RPing smut?
Somewhat? I mean, rp’ing as a NB chara usually leaves a lot to be desired
Why this character?
I’ve been dying to play a Perrie face and it took me some time to create her. I love her face so much and I think she fits so great with the character I’ve come up with.
Alternate means of contact?
aim – incrediblecassadee and skype – celeste3xa
Who do you want to be?
Biography
Meet VENUS ARISTARCHOS. They are TWENTY-THREE and people mistake them for PERRIE EDWARDS. They are currently DANCER AT CRESCENDO but would rather be SINGER.
back from the road and i’m back at her door. i’m sleeping tonight on another floor. cause when life’s too fast, i take a longer road i dust off my shoes and my dirty clothes. so you heard i’m back in town tellin all your friends i’m making millions now. got a car and a new house but too bad baby i’m leavin the city no ifs, ands or maybes driving me crazy. ♪
VENUS is better known by HARPY.
+ honest, intelligent, hard worker
- ruthless, reckless, careless
The Past
Growing up in New York City left Venus with a twisted view of the world, desiring nothing but the best. As far as they’re concerned, Venus deserves the upper penthouse suites, the finest of champagne, and the beautiful outfits that the best get. They saw their beliefs sprung to life with a scholarship to an upper class private school, working hard to make sure that they got the best of the best. Their family might have been poor, but Venus would not be that much she can be assured of. Hard work led to friction between Venus’s family and them, with their family certain Venus was working much too hard and their constant demanding to achieve only the best made their family believe Venus thought herself better than them. The friction only grew when Venus started to stay with their friends frequently and staying away from their family.
The further apart Venus and their family grew, the close they grew to their friend Sophia who was without a doubt, the sweetest girl anyone could ever meet. A few people could wonder how Sophia and Venus would ever be friends with two people more different and yet, the two made plans. Sophia’s parents adored Venus for being the kind of person to continuously stand up for Sophia and even tutor Sophia in subjects that Sophia had trouble with. The plans came to together a year after graduation, with Sophia and Venus leaving New York City for a road trip cross country. The pair picked a car together, leaving New York in the dust. The trip had been mostly uneventful up until the two hit California, the car starting to putter out. To Venus’s dismay, the car kicked the bucket in Harmony, leaving the two stranded with no way back home.
Sophia was thrilled, however, and since Sophia wanted to stay, Venus ended up agreeing to stick it out with Sophia.
The Present
The harpy is best known for being a creature that is shrill and while Venus has a beautiful singing voice, it’s their talking that drives people up the wall. Not that her talking voice is any less pleasant – it’s just that every time Venus talks, it’s to demand something. They firmly believe you can get anywhere you need to be by demanding it and it was probably where the name Harpy came from – and they embraced it fully. Venus ended up thriving in Harmony three years later, landing a gig dancing at Crescendo and while this wasn’t their dream goal, Venus definitely started to fit in. They’re happy to take on the name Harpy – it’s unique to them and if nothing else, Venus likes to consider themselves unique.
The Future
Where does Venus want to be? They can see themselves up on every billboard with their name flashing in lights. They can see it all – the fancy cars, the slick fashion, and the red carpets. That was the kind of life that Venus wants and they’ll do whatever they can to have it. It’s their end goal and they’ve even set several short term goals. The first goal is to lead a music video – a la Alicia Silverstone from Clueless fame. They’ve seen Clueless more time than anyone could count and it’s the end dream. They long for the first moment, the breakthrough moment that brings them there.
Relationships
Sophia Hart –best friend, roommate
Gwen Sullivan – ex girlfriend
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x x
Icons: x x x
Venus
is CLOSED 3+ Paragraphs in Character:
Venus was regretting their choice in footwear already. While the heels were beautiful – secondhand Louboutins that added almost four inches to Venus’s four foot eleven stature – this wasn’t the day for heels. Trying to hail a taxi in New York City shouldn’t be this hard, they thought as they yelled out for another taxi and screaming obscenities when another yellow car drove past them. This wasn’t the day for high heels at all and Venus found themselves praying that the heels wouldn’t snap under them as they finally managed to get a cab to park in front of their pointed heels. With a roll of their bright blue eyes, they got into the cab with a huff. The accent that dripped from their lips was honeyed – thick, sweet, and high, “Leman Manhattan on Broad Street, please. Extra if you step on it. I’m running late as it is.”
They shifted their bag behind their back, focusing on their phone now. Sophia had sent several annoyed sounding texts, the first one starting with “registration is today – where you are” and the ending one with “mom won’t buy us Starbucks if you don’t get here” in all cops. More stressful than Venus had wanted to read at this moment – especially since it wasn’t their fault they were running late. Another row between them and their parents about the whole idea that they were acting better than the family – as if the idea of wanting to not be poor was so awful. Venus was tired of it and they were grateful when the cab finally pulled up to the school.
Being poor had been a major hindrance when it came to fitting in at the school and Sophia’s well put together look struck a hit of jealousy in Venus’s heart. It wasn’t that Venus was jealous of Sophia per say, just that Sophia always had more than Venus did. They tucked a curl behind their ear, stepping down from the cab with the nerves finally hitting their eyes – slightly wide with a parted mouth and difficulty breathing. They smoothed their white blouse, the slick purple pencil skirt keeping her movements over to Sophia and her mother hindered. “Soph, I’m so sorry! My rents had another massive freak out. Horribly sorry about that.”
A kiss on either cheek – like the French do. Venus’s poor feet were dying at this point, but they would be damned if they ever showed that the shoes were pinching their toes – especially not around Sophia’s well put together mother. Sophia’s mother always had that bored housewife aesthetic that Venus wanted to achieve but could never really manage to obtain. “Are we still gonna go to Starbuck’s? I’ve got a massive craving for a Frappe,” Venus said as they rummaged through their bag to find the course schedule to compare schedules with Sophia. The pair did it every year to make sure they had at least a class together. “I mean, I’ve always got a craving for a Frappe but after that argument, sheeze do I want a Frappe.”
2+ Character Development Questions:
Venus had been more than excited about the romantic outdoor dinner date their girlfriend had planned for them. Romance was always something that Venus loved and they loved the outdoors a lot – especially out in Harmony. There was only a few places in New York that worth being outside for and yet here in Harmony it was perfect. The set up was beautiful – candles and fairylights and a beautiful picnic laid out in the grass with a soft blanket for two to sit on. Venus had even gotten dressed up for it and there was just a single hitch when the rain started pouring down. And it wasn’t light rain – it was hard rain. Venus normally would complain about their curls being ruined but the food was the most important. The pair were shrieking loudly and their girlfriend was crying about the fact the date was ruined.
“No it’s not,” Venus said with a light giggle, suddenly realizing exactly what this scenario was like. “It’s like a Nicholas Sparks novel. You know – the whole part where they get caught in the rain and it’s like… super romantic?” Their girlfriend paused before bursting into laughter, the rain droplets seeming caught in her eyelashes. “I mean, I know we’re not a straight white couple but y’know.” Both of them unable to control the laughter at this point, Venus had to admit that the rain didn’t exactly ruin the spirit of the date. Taking Gwen’s hand into hers, they pulled the girl into a dance with the laughter saving the evening for the most part.
Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any?
Venus hadn’t really had any real desire to get any tattoos until about a year ago when they got a butterfly on their upper arm. The choice to get the tattoo was split second and Venus didn’t even bother to get an explanation for the ink. Sometimes she bullshits an excuse on the spot, but for the most part it’s just a mark reminding the world exactly how reckless Venus can be. As far as piercings go, Venus has her nose done and doesn’t plan on getting any more but that doesn’t mean that at one point they won’t randomly go out and get a belly button piercing or something similar.
2+ Goals
Right now, Venus’s big plan is to get their own place. Not that they’re ungrateful to Sophia for letting them live in the apartment with her rent free – it’s just that living with Sophia has put a strain on the friendship. Venus blames the fact that the two have a place that doesn’t magically clean itself anymore. Sophia, being born into wealth, doesn’t understand the concept of cleaning up after herself leaving Venus to feel like a maid in the home. On top of that, Sophia and Venus have very different ideas in décor and Venus isn’t a fan of Sophia’s style.
The long term goal is to actually land an audition. Venus has sent in their resume to several places and not one of the places has given Venus a chance. They are convinced that all they need is their foot in the door – and without a doubt, this is the one goal that Venus is more than willing to rewrite their morals for. One could describe Venus’s approach in this goal as cut throat and willing to stoop to sabotage to get a chance to prove themselves in a role.
Anything Else?
It took me four days to write this app but at the end of it I’m kind of proud of it and it’s been a while since I’ve written over a thousand words for any application.
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Jasper Delano (OC APP)
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Jace
How old are you?
17, going on 18 in November
Preferred Pronouns?
She/her or they/them
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Please tag images of fire, and all mentions of self-harm and negative body image
Time Zone?
EST
Activity?
I start school next week but my workload shouldn’t be too much to work around, but I am involved in two other rps and would like to divide my time between my children fairly. I think I will be able to make more than the minimum posting requirements for activity.
How did you find us?
I actually found you through Penny’s rph blog!
Are you okay with RPing smut?
Nope. (And honestly, I probably won’t be even after I turn 18.)
Why this character?
Because I like to live vicariously through fictional characters and to inflict emotional pain in others.
Alternate means of contact?
my skype is jacemchardwick! i have it on my phone and my desktop so i’ll see messages from anywhere.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet JASPER DELANO. He is 29 and people mistake him for PETE WENTZ.He is currently UNEMPLOYED but would rather be A BAND/TALENT MANAGER.
I can move mountains, I can work a miracle, work a miracle ♪
JASPER also responds to JAZ.
+ Spunky, Honest, Empathetic
- Opinionated, Idealistic, Stubborn
The Past
Jasper Delano grew up the youngest of three siblings in a crowded townhouse in the suburbs near San Diego. Money was always a little tight in the Delano household, but they were never really unhappy. His father worked for a local construction company, and his mother was an elementary school teacher. There weren’t many kids his own age in the neighborhood, so Jasper’s older brother and sister often had to bring him along when they went out to play. Growing up, Jasper always had to prove that he was tough and smart enough to play with the big boys. His brother taught him how to throw a punch and twist out of grapple holds, and his sister taught him how to dodge offenses. Most kids learned not to pick on the Delano Baby after that summer.
When he was a sophomore in high school, his brother picked him up from school one Friday and took him out to his college campus for the weekend. Jasper experienced his first college party as a high schooler, and experienced his first concert in the same night. The concert was in a dingy basement in some dingy building just a short walk from his brother’s dorm, and the band totally sucked, but he admired their enthusiasm. It was inspiring to see these kids putting their heart into a show that they probably only made fifty bucks out of. After dealing with his first ever hangover, Jasper decided to look into the music industry when he got back home that Sunday.
Jasper quickly learned that he couldn’t play music for the life of him, but that wouldn’t stop him from getting involved in the music scene. After high school, he bounced around job to job, saving everything he could. He moved out of his parent’s home and focused on giving back to his community and donating musical instruments to the schools before he heard about Harmony and planned his next move. Sure, helping out and being close to home was rewarding, but it also meant he worked any job he could, and he needed something permanent. So he packed up and found himself an apartment and would figure it out when he got there.
The Present
In Harmony, Jasper is just getting started. He’s only lived here a few months, but he’s still scoping things out. He can’t just throw himself at talent and ask them to hire him, and he can’t offer his services to just anyone. Right now, he’s skating by on his savings and Top Ramen, but he’s keeping his eyes and ears open. He’s a little nervous because most kids these days take care of themselves as far as their bands go, but he’s determined to reel in a catch before his bank account catches up with him.
The Future
Jasper wants to find the Next Big Thing and help them become the Best Big Thing. Honestly, a little of it is because he’d like a source of income, but also so he can hop along on the coattails of fame. and to get himself out there. He’s almost 30 and he still technically doesn’t have a career, and he can’t help but feel a little out of place. He hopes that Harmony is the place that can change that.
Relationships
N/A.
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Jasper Delano is an OC
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
Despite the air conditioning in the small venue, Jasper felt like his skin was melting off his bones. Even standing on the outskirts of the crowd, heat radiated from the mass of bodies that gravitated towards the stage. He used to love going to concerts and being part of the crowd and never used to care if he felt like half the sweat on him was from other people. But once you start going to two or three shows a week and you’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, it kind of loses its magic.
Jaz tried his best not to let his spirits waver, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder why he did this at all. At least back home the kids at the schools were excited to see him when he brought in boxes of new drums. Here in Harmony, the men at the doors of the concert halls and bars just gave him looks that all but said ‘You again? Ugh!’ It was a little (a lot) discouraging.
He sighed at the thought and migrated to the bar and ordered a bottle of the cheapest beer they had. A band took the stage as he sipped half-heartedly and found a spot to lean against the wall. Their drummer desperately needed a click-track, their bassist had too much feedback from their amp. The singer wasn’t bad, but they seemed more interested in trying to get everyone to scream in between songs than actually focus on singing. This was not his golden ticket.
If his Next Big Thing was out there, he wasn’t going to find it in here tonight. Jaz downed the rest of his beer as the band finished their set and was almost to the door when the crowd roared with excitement and applause. He glanced over his shoulder and the lights went down and a soft piano intro began to play. A soft voice found its way over the other noise pollution and Jasper found himself moving back towards the audience. Okay, maybe he could stick around a little longer.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What is their worst quality?
Jasper has a hard time grounding himself. He likes to live in the moment, and that can mean making spur-of-the-moment decisions like moving to a new city with a vague idea of a plan instead of researching the job market and situating himself in a way that is stable. He feels like he missed out on a lot of stuff by staying back home, and he wants to make up for it now. The boy’s got big dreams, and he’s gonna chase them, even if it’s not totally clear how he’s gonna get there.
What are they most proud of that they’ve done?
Jasper doesn’t have a lot that he thinks he can be proud of (yet), but being able to give back to the town where he grew up is one thing that he wears proudly. If he can help children find their niche by giving them a tambourine, then that’s his badge of honor.
2+ Goals
Find talent to manage.
Get paid. His rent will be due eventually, and he can’t pay in ramen noodle flavor packets.
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OC App
Who are you?
What will we call you? Emily (or Em)
How old are you? 18
Preferred Pronouns? She/her
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of? None
Time Zone? Eastern
Activity? I work quite a bit and I’m starting school back up in August, but pretty much whenever I have a spare moment. I’d say I’m a 7-8 on a 10 scale.
Times you will usually be on? It depends on when I’m working. But generally in the afternoon – I can be up to all hours of the night on occasion
RP Experience? Too much, haha. I’ve been doing online rps since before tumblr, and then tumblr-based rps for about four years now.
How did you find us? Promo tags, bruh
Are you okay with RPing smut? For sure
Why this character? As of late, I’ve gotten back into music pretty hardcore. My dad and brother are both musicians so I’ve always been pretty interested in the music business. I’ve never played a musically inclined character yet and I think it will be a fun challenge.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Johnny King. He is 35 and people mistake him/her for Billie Joe Armstrong. He is currently a retired rockstar but would rather be playing to adoring audiences again.
Why can’t we not be sober? I just want to start this over. ♪
Johnny prefers to be called/goes by The King.
+ protective of younger people, witty & snarky, passionate about his work
- full of himself, struggles with former addictions, hot-headed
The Past
In his former years, Johnny King was just that – a king. His long-time broken-up band, The Void, had opened to crowds of thousands after their first album went platinum. Their political, angry, riot-inducing sound was revered by nearly everyone that year. They were the “it” band – the one that every other band longed to become. In the center of all the music, the drugs, the women, and the fame lived Johnny. Nineteen years old and a practical punk-prodigy, Johnny’s life was everything he wanted it to be and more.
The high of fame lasted a matter of years before things began to spin out of control. Johnny became highly addicted to multiple forms of drugs, mainly cocaine and other forms of “uppers” that would take his mind away from life. He became incapable of writing new music for the band to play, let alone even able to play live anymore without having some sort of mental breakdown on stage. While his band mates tried multiple times to get him help through rehab, Johnny refused. He was, after all, the king – what did they or anybody else know? The band broke up and Johnny was left alone with his money and his drugs.
The Present
When Johnny rounded his thirtieth birthday, he admitted himself into rehab. For five years he has remained sober and, seemingly, fully recovered. Today, he lives in a one-person apartment in Harmony, California by himself (aside from his two cats, which he considers to be better company anyway.) Johnny finds himself rarely busy, unless being interviewed for one of those annoying “where-are-they-now?” shows. Occasionally, a fan or two will write to him and give him something to do to fill his time. He’s considered giving lessons to younger, aspiring musicians more than once, but something keeps holding him back. Whether it’s depression or lack of motivation to give up his past-life, he can’t tell.
The Future
Johnny tries his absolute best to never dwell on the future. Not because he doesn’t care, but quite the opposite. The future terrifies him. He doesn’t want to imagine himself as an aging ex-rock god in a rotting apartment. In his mind, he’s still the mohawked little punk he was all those years ago. His future is a bleak one – or at least he thinks so. If he had one dream, it would to play to an audience…just one last time.
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Johnny King is CLOSED
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
There was blackness. A hush made it’s way through the air like a large and silent wave. Fog. Fog brushed it’s way silkily over his red, dirty and untied shoes. He closed his eyes. He was just a boy from Detroit with his busted guitar in a garage somewhere. His fingers tightened around the neck of his instrument with something that felt like anxiety. The fog crept it’s way up to his knees as a breeze moved his ratty t-shirt slightly. A low base-line began to play from somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes. Drums. Quiet and muted, but growing louder by the second. His fingers tightened their grip, moving to their assigned places. Then it all happened within half of a second. Lights – they snapped on with a great presence and illuminated everything surrounding him. Lights of every color, giving the illusion of practical technicolor fog everywhere. One person began to scream. Then another, and another. And within a breath they were all shouting and hollering and crying his name. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny~! He wasn’t a boy in Detroit. No. He was a king. He was their king.
His fingers held tight to their frets and he hit that first chord like an abusive father, spinning his whole body around to face the audience with a scream that only a king could muster. Then the song began. The show began. His life began. Shows were always a blur for him. The feel and the smell and the taste of it all. Sweaty, suffering bodies all jammed into one place for him. The opportunity to do what he loved and be adored for it. The way his voice sounded when echoing through a stadium of thousands upon thousands of people. With each word and each strum on his guitar, he could feel the fresh, pleasing rush of opiates in his veins. This was what it was like to be alive. There was nothing. Just him and his music and his disciples. It would be like that forever, he thought as he slammed his head rhythmically along with his audience. What could ever stop him?
-
9 a.m. and the sound of static on his retro television set wakes him with a start. Former boy from Detroit, former rock-god, former drug-addict, sits up from his uncomfortable position on his couch and stares forward in a daze. A dream. That’s all it was. 35 and still alive. He sucks in a deep breath and buries his face deeply into his coarse palms. A dream.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What are your character’s bad habits?
Johnny is a former drug-addict, and a severe one at that. Smoking cigarettes is one of his old habits that he simply never gave up. It was the one thing that he was legally allowed to do, and somehow, in his mind, that made it okay. Another is that he bites his nails down to nubs. Considering that Johnny used to play guitar every night, he feels empty when they aren’t doing something. It’s a nervous tick of his that never seems to go away.
If they could time travel, would they go to the past? Or the future? When would they visit? What would they do? Would they change anything?
Johnny would undoubtedly travel to the past. Specifically his own past when he was living his prime. He would simply relive it – he would relive every moment if he could. While he might like to think he would change his downfall, somewhere deep inside himself he knows it was inevitable.
2+ Goals
Playing music again. Any form.
Helping other young musicians to not make the same mistakes he did.
Anything Else?
found my muchness (:
0 notes
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OC App
Who are you?
What will we call you? Emily (or Em)
How old are you? 18
Preferred Pronouns? She/her
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of? None
Time Zone? Eastern
Activity? I work quite a bit and I’m starting school back up in August, but pretty much whenever I have a spare moment. I’d say I’m a 7-8 on a 10 scale.
Times you will usually be on? It depends on when I’m working. But generally in the afternoon – I can be up to all hours of the night on occasion
RP Experience? Too much, haha. I’ve been doing online rps since before tumblr, and then tumblr-based rps for about four years now.
How did you find us? Promo tags, bruh
Are you okay with RPing smut? For sure
Why this character? As of late, I’ve gotten back into music pretty hardcore. My dad and brother are both musicians so I’ve always been pretty interested in the music business. I’ve never played a musically inclined character yet and I think it will be a fun challenge.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Johnny King. He is 35 and people mistake him/her for Billie Joe Armstrong. He is currently a retired rockstar but would rather be playing to adoring audiences again.
Why can’t we not be sober? I just want to start this over. ♪
Johnny prefers to be called/goes by The King.
+ protective of younger people, witty & snarky, passionate about his work
- full of himself, struggles with former addictions, hot-headed
The Past
In his former years, Johnny King was just that – a king. His long-time broken-up band, The Void, had opened to crowds of thousands after their first album went platinum. Their political, angry, riot-inducing sound was revered by nearly everyone that year. They were the “it” band – the one that every other band longed to become. In the center of all the music, the drugs, the women, and the fame lived Johnny. Nineteen years old and a practical punk-prodigy, Johnny’s life was everything he wanted it to be and more.
The high of fame lasted a matter of years before things began to spin out of control. Johnny became highly addicted to multiple forms of drugs, mainly cocaine and other forms of “uppers” that would take his mind away from life. He became incapable of writing new music for the band to play, let alone even able to play live anymore without having some sort of mental breakdown on stage. While his band mates tried multiple times to get him help through rehab, Johnny refused. He was, after all, the king – what did they or anybody else know? The band broke up and Johnny was left alone with his money and his drugs.
The Present
When Johnny rounded his thirtieth birthday, he admitted himself into rehab. For five years he has remained sober and, seemingly, fully recovered. Today, he lives in a one-person apartment in Harmony, California by himself (aside from his two cats, which he considers to be better company anyway.) Johnny finds himself rarely busy, unless being interviewed for one of those annoying “where-are-they-now?” shows. Occasionally, a fan or two will write to him and give him something to do to fill his time. He’s considered giving lessons to younger, aspiring musicians more than once, but something keeps holding him back. Whether it’s depression or lack of motivation to give up his past-life, he can’t tell.
The Future
Johnny tries his absolute best to never dwell on the future. Not because he doesn’t care, but quite the opposite. The future terrifies him. He doesn’t want to imagine himself as an aging ex-rock god in a rotting apartment. In his mind, he’s still the mohawked little punk he was all those years ago. His future is a bleak one – or at least he thinks so. If he had one dream, it would to play to an audience…just one last time.
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Johnny King is CLOSED
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
There was blackness. A hush made it’s way through the air like a large and silent wave. Fog. Fog brushed it’s way silkily over his red, dirty and untied shoes. He closed his eyes. He was just a boy from Detroit with his busted guitar in a garage somewhere. His fingers tightened around the neck of his instrument with something that felt like anxiety. The fog crept it’s way up to his knees as a breeze moved his ratty t-shirt slightly. A low base-line began to play from somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes. Drums. Quiet and muted, but growing louder by the second. His fingers tightened their grip, moving to their assigned places. Then it all happened within half of a second. Lights – they snapped on with a great presence and illuminated everything surrounding him. Lights of every color, giving the illusion of practical technicolor fog everywhere. One person began to scream. Then another, and another. And within a breath they were all shouting and hollering and crying his name. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny~! He wasn’t a boy in Detroit. No. He was a king. He was their king.
His fingers held tight to their frets and he hit that first chord like an abusive father, spinning his whole body around to face the audience with a scream that only a king could muster. Then the song began. The show began. His life began. Shows were always a blur for him. The feel and the smell and the taste of it all. Sweaty, suffering bodies all jammed into one place for him. The opportunity to do what he loved and be adored for it. The way his voice sounded when echoing through a stadium of thousands upon thousands of people. With each word and each strum on his guitar, he could feel the fresh, pleasing rush of opiates in his veins. This was what it was like to be alive. There was nothing. Just him and his music and his disciples. It would be like that forever, he thought as he slammed his head rhythmically along with his audience. What could ever stop him?
-
9 a.m. and the sound of static on his retro television set wakes him with a start. Former boy from Detroit, former rock-god, former drug-addict, sits up from his uncomfortable position on his couch and stares forward in a daze. A dream. That’s all it was. 35 and still alive. He sucks in a deep breath and buries his face deeply into his coarse palms. A dream.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What are your character’s bad habits?
Johnny is a former drug-addict, and a severe one at that. Smoking cigarettes is one of his old habits that he simply never gave up. It was the one thing that he was legally allowed to do, and somehow, in his mind, that made it okay. Another is that he bites his nails down to nubs. Considering that Johnny used to play guitar every night, he feels empty when they aren’t doing something. It’s a nervous tick of his that never seems to go away.
If they could time travel, would they go to the past? Or the future? When would they visit? What would they do? Would they change anything?
Johnny would undoubtedly travel to the past. Specifically his own past when he was living his prime. He would simply relive it – he would relive every moment if he could. While he might like to think he would change his downfall, somewhere deep inside himself he knows it was inevitable.
2+ Goals
Playing music again. Any form.
Helping other young musicians to not make the same mistakes he did.
Anything Else?
found my muchness (:
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Text
Application: OC -Tom Hardy FC
Who are you?
What will we call you?:
Ace
How old are you?
Old as dirt. Nah, just kidding. I’m 26, but I’m a grumpy old man at heart.
Preferred Pronouns?
He/Him/Hey you, stop chasing the pigeons!
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
I have absolutely 0 triggers. I know, kinda’ scary, but, them’s the breaks.
Time Zone?
EST Represent!
Activity?
Ohhhhhh way too much. Very much. I am a dedicated writer and give feedback if I can’t be around for whatever reason.
Times you will usually be on?
It varies. Whenever I can get on for lengthy periods of time. If I can’t sleep, or if I’m just bored.
RP Experience?
3 Years of Tumblr Rp’dom. Started from a fandom now I’m here. (Yes, Drake’s song’s tune, go ahead, judge me.)
How did you find us?
Trolling the tags like a G. You know how we do.
Are you okay with RPing smut?
Pft. Psh. Bruh… it’s like, a specialty of mine. (Seriously though, I’m very comfortable with it, but it isn’t what RP is all about)
Why this character?
Um… because he’s from my blood, sweat and tears.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Nicholas (Nick) Cassidy. He is 37 and people mistake him for Tom Hardy. He is currently Tattoo Artist/Bouncer but would rather be a rapper.
I come down like a bloody rain cuts up flesh sky,
Pulse beating under, yeah
Meat petals bloom in a bone garden
Ain’t no god, no ghost gonna save you now
I sell souls at the side of the road
Would you like to take a number -Distillers
Nicholas prefers to be called/goes by Nick/Nicky.
+ Passionate, Creative, Intuitive
- Brooding, Temperamental, Reclusive
The Past
From Hackney, London, living with an alcoholic mother who turned to prostitution, ten year old Nick was taken from her custody and sent to live with his Navy-hardened father in Baltimore, Maryland..USA. The view was similar, the structure, however, was entirely different. He no longer went hungry, he showered daily and was required to go to school every day. At first, it was rough and the two fought like crazy, but Nick’s father instilled respect and before long, they became the best of friends. That didn’t mean life was sunshine and rainbows. His father wasn’t an easy man to please and Nick was a hard-headed, angry, violent kid. Often suspended for fighting during school, counselors were called to intervene, but ultimately, nothing could be done. No amount of anger management, no therapy, no mediation would calm the youth down. Nick’s father did the next logical thing he could think of. He put him in a gym and let him take his anger out on the bags. And that did just the trick. Eventually, Nick started sparring, he fought other boxers and Mixed Martial Artists and with a release for his pent up anger, Nick was able to partake in more enjoyable, creative facets of life. That’s how they discovered his talent for drawing and painting.
With proper nurturing, finally, Nick was able to get himself into a decent college. He attended Otis Institute in California and liked the area so much, he made the west coast his home. Getting started in his career, however, wasn’t an easy feat. Or a cheap one. Nick began apprenticing under a few tattoo artists, figuring it was the easiest way to get his drawings some decent attention, and also finding another outlet for his creative abilities. Human skin was just another canvas, after all. And to help pay for his loans, Nick started bouncing at the local clubs, keeping drunk and disorderly patrons in their place. Sometimes he even played a hand as a roadie for a few bands passing through, but that was only if they didn’t have any and couldn’t handle the equipment themselves. Eventually, after the shop’s owner passed away, Nick found himself completely taking over. He had two artists looking to him for answers and the shop ran on his schedule. How it all happened still blows him away.
The Present
He might be a long way from home, but Nick is still very much apart of his father’s life. He even talks to his mom and younger half-siblings sometimes. (Mainly to send her money) He runs a local tattoo shop called ‘Kalypso’s Cove’ right off the boardwalk, ocean view and all. It’s probably one of his most greatest accomplishments he’s been able to maintain. Weekends is spent down at the clubs, bouncing still, and when he’s not throwing drunks on their asses, he’s in the gym, boxing and fighting to maintain his skill. There’s still quite a bit of anger and darkness pent up in his brain and fighting is the only outlet he has to maintain a sense of normalcy.
The Future
Nick is in love with the tattoo shop, and he loves being an artist. Those things, he’ll never give up or change, but what he has found a passion for, and something he only does as a joke or to goof off, is rapping. He’s not too bad at it either. His hopes aren’t to take the world by storm like Biggie or Tupac or anything like that, and he certainly knows he’s not the next Eminem, but making a few videos and getting Vine-Famous can’t be too hard, right? If you ask him why he doesn’t pursue it seriously, he’ll tell you, “It’s a young man’s game.”
Relationships
None Yet-However, since he runs a tattoo shop, maybe he has many acquaintances who frequent his chair?
It is only necessary to include relationships with people that will be in Harmony, or already are.
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Nicholas Cassidy isCLOSED
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
“Help me get ovah’ the fact that you come in here asking me for a bloody favor when you know well and good you owe me quite a bit of cash for all the oth’a favors I’ve done for you throughout the years. Help me understand what’s going through your fuckin’ mind right now, mate.” Nick balled both his hands up into tight, war-hammer-like fists. The man standing across from him, someone he used to consider a friend, was too high–too drunk to even care that he was seconds away from receiving hell’s fury in quantum doses.
The man, Jesse, just stares. His eyes are red and swollen. His nose nearly matches. He wavers as he stands still, nearly toppling over, but doesn’t quite make it all the way. Heroin addicts, man, they were like Weeble-Wobbles. They didn’t fall down.
Nick sighed, obviously frustrated and hurt to see his former best friend in this condition. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to muster up a little bit of patience, though he was running on E and had very little of it to begin with. Nick was a passionate man, not a patient one. “Look. I can’t loan ya’ shit. Okay? I can’t, knowing what you’ll just blow it on.” His voice was calmer now, left-over British drawl nearly gone–nearly. There would always be a hint of where he comes from lurking under every word.
“Nicky, please,” Jesse begged, “I know I’m shit, man, okay? I know I got problems. But I feel like death. I feel so far from gone. I need this. I need just one more. Man, please? Just a bump. I’ll pay you back. I’m good for it.”
“No.” Nick came out from behind the counter and, using his excellent bouncer skills, dragged Jesse from his shop. For a skinny, wiry guy, he was quite heavy, surprisingly. “Sign says closed anyway, mate.” And with that said, Jesse was bounced right on out, leaving Nick the evening to himself to brood and fester over this minor altercation. For the artist, it just was a wakeup call. He lost his best friend and now it was official.
The world keeps turning and so you either adapt or get left behind, and Nick was not about to lose himself because some brat kid wanted to shove needles into his arm.
(An Hour Later)
Oh the burn.
The familiar stinging of the needles penetrating just under his skin; deep enough to deposit his new collective piece and somehow just not deep enough.
Nick had his arm splayed on his table, hand tugging the skin back as he carefully shaded in the new bull-dog on his forearm. He wasn’t much of a lefty with the gun, but, he made it work.
Ink smeared around the surface, making the fine lines and detail harder to see. The rag in his palm was nearly brown from the black and his blood. He dabbed away the excess and smiled at his work.
More buzzing. More liquor. More shading. More burning. More delicious burning.
Better than sex. Better than company.
Better than heroin.
Stuck? Find some prompts to help here.
2+ Character Development Questions:
Have they ever lost someone close to them? Who?
When Nick was thirteen, he lost his grandfather, Charles, to Leukemia. He was close with him. In fact, they were such good buds, Nick would wear his hats or his racing jackets around and pretend to be just like him. It was the hardest day of his life, the day his grandfather passed on, but time heals wounds and Nick’s found artistic muse in the loss.
2. What is their favorite memory of growing up?
As a young child, his mother didn’t have a car, so to get around, she had to walk. Well, walking for kids and with kids is a drag, so she saved up what she could and bought a little wagon to pull him around in. The thing had blankets lined on the bed of it, she’d pack snacks, juice, toys and they’d go on adventures. At least he thought they were adventures. They used the city’s railroads as a way to get around quicker and more efficiently, plus, whenever a train rode by, they’d lay coins down on the tracks and wait for the train to flatten them out. He still has them all still. Later, he would find out the trips were so his mom could get beer, cigarettes or sell a few sexual favors for money, but at the time he was blissfully unaware.
2+ Goals
Become a headlining tattoo artist like Kat Von D or Ami James.
Make a hip-hop album, no matter how silly or ridiculous it is and feature one up and coming star, just to say he recorded with them.
Anything Else?
Found My Muchness
Nick has a hint of an English accent, though it’s been chopped up to hell thanks to Eastern United States slang and lingo.
0 notes
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OC APP:Marguerite Beaupre
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Haley
How old are you?
18
Preferred Pronouns?
She/her
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Nope
Time Zone?
CST
Activity?
I’m almost always near a computer, ready to reply, so on a ten point scale, we’ll say an eight.
Times you will usually be on?
Probably afternoon and evening
RP Experience?
I’ve done oc rping for about 3-4 years now
How did you find us?
I searched the tag city rpg
Are you okay with RPing smut?
yes
Why this character?
I wanted to do a French character to add to the diversity and drive in a plot of the importance of Harmony in achieving goals as an artist and just life in general. I wanted to also include a little bit of not necessarily a sob story, but a story in how art is an escape, sometimes in a literal way!
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Marguerite Beaupre. She is 19 and people mistake her for Allison Harvard. She is currently a waitress and a record store worker but would rather be a Musician.
“Dying young and I’m playing hard,That’s the way my father made his life an art. Drink all day and we talk ‘til dark,That’s the way the road dogs do it – ride ‘til dark.“ ♪
Marguerite only goes by Daisy.
+ imaginative, clairvoyant, visionary
- timid, impulsive, distracted
The Past
When Mr. and Mrs. Beaupre had their first born child in Chartres, France, they named her Marguerite Voie, French for Daisy Lane. She was always a happy-go-lucky little girl with parents who supported flowers in her hair and bare feet in soil. Her parents tried their very hardest to make their little Marguerite believe that they had money even though they were living below the poverty line. She was always dressed in her dad’s old tshirts and only own one pair of beat up sneakers until she was six years old. Her dad always liked to call her Daisy because he loved the English language, but her mom insisted on keeping her name French, because she loved France more than her home country of America. The Beaupre family ended up having to move a lot for both of her parents to find jobs, however, no matter where they were, they always knew how to all gather around a long days of work with their record player playing and singing together. The only stable thing the Beaupre’s ever had was music.
On February 14th of her fourteenth year, her father died two weeks after her baby brother was born. Her mom swirled into a manic depression that made her stop working and never taking care of her children. They had to move to her mother’s hometown in an outskirt of Henderson, Nevada where their income was mainly based on whatever she could earn with lying to employers about being old enough. Her mother’s absence in her life fueled her abhorrence for her mother and her own insistence for everyone to call her Daisy Lane. Her days mostly consisted of riding her bike to school, then work, then getting home close to 10 pm to take care of her brother. While Daisy could be considered wise, her grades in school didn’t reflect it-what with never being home to study. The day before she turned seventeen, she decided that living in a house where her mother who only spoke a sloppy mix of French and English and did nothing for her and her brother but yell had to end, and she packed up all of her belongings and hopped into the greyhound station near her house. In her pocket was a flier advertising Harmony, California with an address to where she shipped her dad’s record player and vinyls while she carried a back pack and large duffle bag with clothes, her music journal, and her other essentials to hold for hours until the beginning of a new life.
The Present
Currently, Daisy has been residing in dingy apartment as she works as a waitress at a diner and work at a vinyl store. The life she is pursuing may not have been exactly what she imagined, but it is a hell of a lot better than what it was. Daisy sometimes get small gigs to play the ukulele and sing at the record store, as she waits for a manager to pick her up. Financially, she finds herself in a tight spot most of the time, mostly relying on her boss’s creepy crush on her to let her borrow his uke and bring food to work. Daisy has learned to sometimes put her pride aside if she really wants to make it. She does what she deems necessary to stay in Harmony, having a gut feeling that something has got something good coming for her. Music and the ability to pursue her heart is all worth the temporary stress, right?
The Future
Working two jobs is not what Daisy considers her life goals. In fact, this is just another stepping stone to where she wants to be. Where does she want to be? Wherever someone will take her for who she is. She loves to sing and play almost any string instrument (her far favorite being the ukulele), and has the voice to make it. Eventually, she wants to be well enough to return to her home country and live happily in France while she plays and sings for the people in the two languages she knows. She likes the idea of being a solo artist, but she has to start developing her image-maybe even learn how to play piano better. The indie scene she wants to go for is no easy scene to get in, even if she is a talented singer with a gift for playing string instruments. But if she did have to work with a band, she would. She only wants to be known for more than the blonde with big eyes. She wants to have substance; something she already has hidden in her stacks of notebooks and sheet music.
Relationships
N/A
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Daisy is oc
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
“Welcome to Peach’s Records!” Daisy called out from the bottom shelf of the movie soundtrack isle as she tidied up and made sure that all of the labels were facing out. As she got up, she hit her head on the second shelf with a thunk, then got back up to pretend that she totally meant to do that. She saw that the middle aged man’s daughter had a Pink Floyd t-shirt on, so she scurried over to behind the counter to put on The Wallalbum. When the girl looked up to ask the man about the song, he mocked her. In the midst of her embarrassment along with his insistence to never wear her shirt anymore, Daisy hurried back to get a copy of the album. She came back, haulting the man’s griping, “She can still wear the shirt if she just listens to this album, right dad?” she smiled, handing over the album. She winked at the girl as she returned a thankful smile. A few minutes later, the two came to the register with the 1975-1988 Box set for them. As the two walked out with their merchandise, Daisy slipped from behind the counter and flipped the open sign on it’s opposite side, locking the front doors. She slipped the dollar bills and loose change from the tip jar into her coat pocket and grabbed her backpack with her waittressing clothes and her music journal in it. Shit, she looked at her watch to see it was already half past 8, with only fifteen times to get to the diner.
“You’re late,” her relief called as she barged through the door, slugging her backpack under the counter and tying on her apron in a singular motion.
“I’ll wash dishes tonight,” she offered a little too desperately, knowing she couldn’t lose this job. She grabbed her notepad and made her way to a group of men who just sat down. “Can I get you boys something to drink?” she said, holding her notepad in her left hand.
“Yeah, blondie. We’ll all take some coke and a piece of you for dessert. The men all burst into laughter as all of their eyes scraped her body. Daisy smiled, trying to maintain her confidence even though the nasty comments always made her want to crawl in a hole. In her nervousness, she tried to deliver all six of the cokes on tray, until she bumped the back of the barstool with the soda spilling all over the floor. “Damn, it sure is a good thing you’re pretty!” They all called out, as she rushed to the back to get new drinks-bringing them two at a time- and getting a mop. Daisy cursed under her breath as she tried to steady her breathing. She couldn’t let them see how nervous she was. All the regular’s rolled their eyes at her, knowing that she was just another pretty girl that got the job even though she had no experience in food service. While the men bothered her for the next two hours while they ate and chatted, Daisy walked back and forth from her tables to the back, trying to keep herself moving to ease her tension. When the men all left, Daisy couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief as she walked up to see what they left as her tip. Her whole face just dropped in seeing that not only did the men not leave a penny, but the all left their phone numbers.
As Daisy walked home around 1 am, she hummed to herself as she dug in her backpack for the keys to her apartment. She could almost feel her feet dragging up the steps as she silently motivated herself to make it to her bed. As she opened the door, her cat Vincent met her, jumping into her arms. She hugged him and sat on her couch next to a pile of sheet music she was working on the other night. As she looked up from petting Vincent, she saw the dishes stacked in the sink, remembering that her morning self decided to stay in bed the extra twenty minutes instead of picking them up. She slipped off her checkered vans and started working on all the dishes, singing absentmindedly. As she finished the last two dinner plates, she took out her favorite wine out of the fridge and poured it in the last clean glass in the cabinet. She made her way back to her bed room to her desk. Dammit, she realized she forgot to bring her boss back his uke-again. She looked at her pieces of paper on her tiny desk, trying to depict where she left off the night before.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What is their favorite memory of growing up?
Daisy can’t quite remember how old she was, but she was still living in France. Her mom and dad got home at the same time, and they decided to celebrate. Her mother went inside to make dinner, and her father went into the backyard. When everything was ready, the family of three ate dinner where her dad made a fire and talked about their day. Both of her parents shared a bottle of wine, and by the time dinner was eaten, it was fairly easy to coax both of them to stay outside and sleep under the stars. Her parents told her if she gotten them all blankets and a pillow, they would do it, since it was one of the nicest nights of the year. They sat around the fire while her dad played his ukulele and her mom and her sang until the fire was out.
Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any?
In an effort to make herself look less innocent in a world where people find her unable and naïve, Daisy has 3 tattoos, and her nipples pierced. All of the tattoos and piercings weren’t drunken mistakes, but they’re also not exactly what Daisy is proud of. Actually, she had each tattoo really well thought out. One day, after a horrible day from work and her boss telling her that people would always only see her as a girl with big eyes, she went home and planned everything she was going to do. The first, she wanted him to see when she went to work. And so, she has a sleeve of flowers-to help her remember who she is trying to make proud with her music. The next, she got a sternum tattoo of a moth to remind her to be gentle with herself. When vowed that she had enough, she decided that she wanted her nipples pierced. Getting them done was the worst pain she ever experienced, and the guy offered to do another piercing for her for free to distract her from the pain, which led to her getting wishbone on the back of her neck.
2+ Goals
More than anything else, Daisy wants to rent out a studio space for a whole night. She has the idea that if she were able to just have that, she could hopefully release her first album.
While Daisy is gifted with instruments, she doesn’t quite own one. She may work her tail off just to make rent, but trying to move on as an artist who still uses other people’s instruments won’t do.
With that being said, she would also love to learn how to play the piano-being one of the only instruments she was never good at playing.
0 notes
Text
OC Application
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Haley
How old are you?
18
Preferred Pronouns?
She/her
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Nope
Time Zone?
CST
Activity?
I’m almost always near a computer, ready to reply, so on a ten point scale, we’ll say an eight.
Times you will usually be on?
Probably afternoon and evening
RP Experience?
I’ve done oc rping for about 3-4 years now
How did you find us?
I searched the tag city rpg
Are you okay with RPing smut?
yes
Why this character?
I wanted to do a French character to add to the diversity and drive in a plot of the importance of Harmony in achieving goals as an artist and just life in general. I wanted to also include a little bit of not necessarily a sob story, but a story in how art is an escape, sometimes in a literal way!
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Marguerite Beaupre. She is 19 and people mistake her for Allison Harvard. She is currently a waitress and a record store worker but would rather be a Musician.
song lyrics ♪
Marguerite only goes by Daisy.
+ imaginative, clairvoyant, visionary
- timid, impulsive, distracted
The Past
When Mr. and Mrs. Beaupre had their first born child in Chartres, France, they named her Marguerite Voie, French for Daisy Lane. She was always a happy-go-lucky little girl with parents who supported flowers in her hair and bare feet in soil. Her parents tried their very hardest to make their little Marguerite believe that they had money even though they were living below the poverty line. She was always dressed in her dad’s old tshirts and only own one pair of beat up sneakers until she was six years old. Her dad always liked to call her Daisy because he loved the English language, but her mom insisted on keeping her name French, because she loved France more than her home country of America. The Beaupre family ended up having to move a lot for both of her parents to find jobs, however, no matter where they were, they always knew how to all gather around a long days of work with their record player playing and singing together. The only stable thing the Beaupre’s ever had was music.
On February 14th of her fourteenth year, her father died two weeks after her baby brother was born. Her mom swirled into a manic depression that made her stop working and never taking care of her children. They had to move to her mother’s hometown in an outskirt of Henderson, Nevada where their income was mainly based on whatever she could earn with lying to employers about being old enough. Her mother’s absence in her life fueled her abhorrence for her mother and her own insistence for everyone to call her Daisy Lane. Her days mostly consisted of riding her bike to school, then work, then getting home close to 10 pm to take care of her brother. While Daisy could be considered wise, her grades in school didn’t reflect it-what with never being home to study. The day before she turned seventeen, she decided that living in a house where her mother who only spoke a sloppy mix of French and English and did nothing for her and her brother but yell had to end, and she packed up all of her belongings and hopped into the greyhound station near her house. In her pocket was a flier advertising Harmony, California with an address to where she shipped her dad’s record player and vinyls while she carried a back pack and large duffle bag with clothes, her music journal, and her other essentials to hold for hours until the beginning of a new life.
The Present
Currently, Daisy has been residing in dingy apartment as she works as a waitress at a diner and work at a vinyl store. The life she is pursuing may not have been exactly what she imagined, but it is a hell of a lot better than what it was. Daisy sometimes get small gigs to play the ukulele and sing at the record store, as she waits for a manager to pick her up. Financially, she finds herself in a tight spot most of the time, mostly relying on her boss’s creepy crush on her to let her borrow his uke and bring food to work. Daisy has learned to sometimes put her pride aside if she really wants to make it. She does what she deems necessary to stay in Harmony, having a gut feeling that something has got something good coming for her. Music and the ability to pursue her heart is all worth the temporary stress, right?
The Future
Working two jobs is not what Daisy considers her life goals. In fact, this is just another stepping stone to where she wants to be. Where does she want to be? Wherever someone will take her for who she is. She loves to sing and play almost any string instrument (her far favorite being the ukulele), and has the voice to make it. Eventually, she wants to be well enough to return to her home country and live happily in France while she plays and sings for the people in the two languages she knows. She likes the idea of being a solo artist, but she has to start developing her image-maybe even learn how to play piano better. The indie scene she wants to go for is no easy scene to get in, even if she is a talented singer with a gift for playing string instruments. But if she did have to work with a band, she would. She only wants to be known for more than the blonde with big eyes. She wants to have substance; something she already has hidden in her stacks of notebooks and sheet music.
Relationships
N/A
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x
Icons: x x x
Daisy is oc
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
“Welcome to Peach’s Records!” Daisy called out from the bottom shelf of the movie soundtrack isle as she tidied up and made sure that all of the labels were facing out. As she got up, she hit her head on the second shelf with a thunk, then got back up to pretend that she totally meant to do that. She saw that the middle aged man’s daughter had a Pink Floyd t-shirt on, so she scurried over to behind the counter to put on The Wallalbum. When the girl looked up to ask the man about the song, he mocked her. In the midst of her embarrassment along with his insistence to never wear her shirt anymore, Daisy hurried back to get a copy of the album. She came back, haulting the man’s griping, “She can still wear the shirt if she just listens to this album, right dad?” she smiled, handing over the album. She winked at the girl as she returned a thankful smile. A few minutes later, the two came to the register with the 1975-1988 Box set for them. As the two walked out with their merchandise, Daisy slipped from behind the counter and flipped the open sign on it’s opposite side, locking the front doors. She slipped the dollar bills and loose change from the tip jar into her coat pocket and grabbed her backpack with her waittressing clothes and her music journal in it. Shit, she looked at her watch to see it was already half past 8, with only fifteen times to get to the diner.
“You’re late,” her relief called as she barged through the door, slugging her backpack under the counter and tying on her apron in a singular motion.
“I’ll wash dishes tonight,” she offered a little too desperately, knowing she couldn’t lose this job. She grabbed her notepad and made her way to a group of men who just sat down. “Can I get you boys something to drink?” she said, holding her notepad in her left hand.
“Yeah, blondie. We’ll all take some coke and a piece of you for dessert. The men all burst into laughter as all of their eyes scraped her body. Daisy smiled, trying to maintain her confidence even though the nasty comments always made her want to crawl in a hole. In her nervousness, she tried to deliver all six of the cokes on tray, until she bumped the back of the barstool with the soda spilling all over the floor. “Damn, it sure is a good thing you’re pretty!” They all called out, as she rushed to the back to get new drinks-bringing them two at a time- and getting a mop. Daisy cursed under her breath as she tried to steady her breathing. She couldn’t let them see how nervous she was. All the regular’s rolled their eyes at her, knowing that she was just another pretty girl that got the job even though she had no experience in food service. While the men bothered her for the next two hours while they ate and chatted, Daisy walked back and forth from her tables to the back, trying to keep herself moving to ease her tension. When the men all left, Daisy couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief as she walked up to see what they left as her tip. Her whole face just dropped in seeing that not only did the men not leave a penny, but the all left their phone numbers.
As Daisy walked home around 1 am, she hummed to herself as she dug in her backpack for the keys to her apartment. She could almost feel her feet dragging up the steps as she silently motivated herself to make it to her bed. As she opened the door, her cat Vincent met her, jumping into her arms. She hugged him and sat on her couch next to a pile of sheet music she was working on the other night. As she looked up from petting Vincent, she saw the dishes stacked in the sink, remembering that her morning self decided to stay in bed the extra twenty minutes instead of picking them up. She slipped off her checkered vans and started working on all the dishes, singing absentmindedly. As she finished the last two dinner plates, she took out her favorite wine out of the fridge and poured it in the last clean glass in the cabinet. She made her way back to her bed room to her desk. Dammit, she realized she forgot to bring her boss back his uke-again. She looked at her pieces of paper on her tiny desk, trying to depict where she left off the night before.
2+ Character Development Questions:
What is their favorite memory of growing up?
Daisy can’t quite remember how old she was, but she was still living in France. Her mom and dad got home at the same time, and they decided to celebrate. Her mother went inside to make dinner, and her father went into the backyard. When everything was ready, the family of three ate dinner where her dad made a fire and talked about their day. Both of her parents shared a bottle of wine, and by the time dinner was eaten, it was fairly easy to coax both of them to stay outside and sleep under the stars. Her parents told her if she gotten them all blankets and a pillow, they would do it, since it was one of the nicest nights of the year. They sat around the fire while her dad played his ukulele and her mom and her sang until the fire was out.
Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any?
In an effort to make herself look less innocent in a world where people find her unable and naïve, Daisy has 3 tattoos, and her nipples pierced. All of the tattoos and piercings weren’t drunken mistakes, but they’re also not exactly what Daisy is proud of. Actually, she had each tattoo really well thought out. One day, after a horrible day from work and her boss telling her that people would always only see her as a girl with big eyes, she went home and planned everything she was going to do. The first, she wanted him to see when she went to work. And so, she has a sleeve of flowers-to help her remember who she is trying to make proud with her music. The next, she got a sternum tattoo of a moth to remind her to be gentle with herself. When vowed that she had enough, she decided that she wanted her nipples pierced. Getting them done was the worst pain she ever experienced, and the guy offered to do another piercing for her for free to distract her from the pain, which led to her getting wishbone on the back of her neck.
2+ Goals
More than anything else, Daisy wants to rent out a studio space for a whole night. She has the idea that if she were able to just have that, she could hopefully release her first album.
While Daisy is gifted with instruments, she doesn’t quite own one. She may work her tail off just to make rent, but trying to move on as an artist who still uses other people’s instruments won’t do.
With that being said, she would also love to learn how to play the piano-being one of the only instruments she was never good at playing.
Anything Else?
((I looked everywhere for a password and I hope I didn’t pass it up))
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Text
OC App
Who are you?
What will we call you?
Lex
How old are you?
16
Preferred Pronouns?
Feminine pronouns, but gender neutral ones are also perfectly fine.
Do you have any triggers we should be aware of?
Sex, gore, extremes pretty much. Other than that, I’m good.
Time Zone?
EST
Activity?
Almost everyday.
Times you will usually be on?
Usually at least weekdays 5-9 pm, except when I am busy or something.
RP Experience?
A little over 1 year.
How did you find us?
RPG tag, but tagging it as rp might help more people.
Are you okay with RPing smut?
No.
Why this character?
Because she’s my OC and she’s a sweetheart. Please do not read that sarcastically, I tried to make a joke and add that I think she’s a sweetie.
Who do you want to be?
Biography:
Meet Bethany Bell. She is 21 and people mistake her for Emily Kinney. She is currently a bartender at Prelude but would rather be an actress/singer.
“On a stormy sea of moving emotion Tossed about, I’m like a ship on the ocean”
Bethany prefers to be called Beth and occasionally BB.
+ Quick learner, innocent, caring, sweet
- Semi-passive, timid, fragile, gets into the wrong crowd
The Past
Being born to the most racist, closed-minded rich family imaginable, somehow made Beth even sweeter. Her mother and father wanted her to be a doctor, her older brother told her to be what she wanted. He didn’t agree with her parents, and he practically raised her. Her mother and father owned a business, and they made their children take school online. Her brother was supposed to be the heir of the empire, but he always wanted to own a bar. Why a bar, well the idea of it was cool to him. He noticed that his sister liked singing and asked her what she wanted to do. Well, he convinced her to practice by herself so that their parents didn’t catch her. When she got older, her mom became a stay at home mom and it was horrible. And when she turned 17, it got worse. Her brother died in a car accident, on his way to buy a place to make his bar. She decided that she had to still follow her dreams, so when she turned 18, her dad gave her money for college. With it, she moved to Harmony, California. She got singing and acting classes, a job to stock a bar, and an apartment near said bar.
The Present
She recently ran out of money, got a promotion to be a bartender, and put out a listing for a roommate. She had to give up her classes, but she still pays for one every once and a while. She thinks she’s horrible, but her teachers were impressed with her. She has plenty of friends at the moment, and she meets new people every night.
The Future
When Mr. Colton has her sign with him, and he will one day, she will be one of the next big things. Maybe she will get into an amazing band and publicity. If she does, she could get a big break in the movie and tv industry. The question is when will it happen.
Relationships
Chase Bell-Brother
Mr. Bell-Father
Mrs. Bell-Mother
Resources
GIF Hunts: x x x x
Icons: x x x
Character’s Name is OPEN/CLOSED
3+ Paragraphs in Character:
She was sitting down in some cafe with her friend who, at the moment, was making very poor life choices. “You know, I love you, and even though I love you, you need to tell me the truth.” She then sipped her drink and looked down. She could never have these conversations, but she did for this particular person. Her friend replied with what she was taking, a certain drug that’s not good. “It’s illegal, I mean you can do what you want and everything, but what about your health?” She gave a smile and sighed.
“I can’t do this, I just- It’s against everything I can do.” She was in acting class, and the scene was from some survival drama that was on at the time. She looked down and gave a tiny look of grief. “He was the strong one, I was… I was nothing.” She fiddled with her hands, she was sitting down in front of the class, the camera was filming her. Her teacher read the next line, and she looked up. “I will not go on with you, I’d rather take my chances as me than kill someone.”
She blushed and looked down to pull out a beer. “You know, flirting won’t work when you’re only pronouncing half the things you say right.” The man was drunk, she knew he had too much to drink, but she wasn’t going to do anything. It was her job not to. She wished she could make him go home, but it would mean losing money. She got up and handed him the beer. “You know, you seem really nice. But, you need to go home soon. I’m worried you will crash and die or something.” She didn’t think about what she said as she went to another customer.
2+ Headcanons
Because of her parents always trying to make her be a doctor, she’s always had a somewhat poor self image. Even though her parents were jerks, she made friends with everyone and sometimes got in trouble with them because of it. She’s heteromantic and asexual. She’s totally up for kissing, cudling, and everything. Just not sex.
2+ Goals
To sign with Mr. Colton and to get a role in what she deems an amazing opportunity of a movie or show.
Anything Else?
Found my muchness. She’s everyone’s best friend pretty much, and like the glue.
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