Post by reuben paris dean on Sept 10, 2009 3:58:55 GMT -5
reuben paris dean ,
[/font][/center]" you're in the city of lights, and i want to know everything. "
[/font][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]name: reuben paris dean; typically goes by roo, killerroo, kanga roo, paris, pear or spazzy mcgee.
age: nineteen. 17.3.1990.
body type: scrawny ass white kid, with mildly impressive upper arms due to incessant drumming.
distinguishing features: apart from impressive sideburns? he has a patch of skin on the back of his leg that is darker than the rest; he's fond of it. he also has various tattoos.
member title: nyu student, majoring in cinema studies with a minor in creative writing.
" that family of yours, i hear it's pretty interesting. "
[/font][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]parents' names: cyrus and jennifer dean.
siblings' names: digby, 24 and helena, 16.
outside family: no.
" i guess you could say nyc is the city of love.
so, tell me all about that love life of yours. "
so, tell me all about that love life of yours. "
[/size][/font]sexual orientation: straight as a ruler, bby.
significant others: he's currently having an affair with a close friend's girlfriend.
" am i prying too much? no? well, then, tell me
about every skeleton in that closet of yours. "
about every skeleton in that closet of yours. "
[/size][/font]
the briefing: reuben is two faced, primarily. he's upfront about it, never really claiming to be something other than himself. he's driven in his life goals, passionate about his learning and competitive thanks to an upbringing with two other kids to compete with. he hates losing, and unfortunately doesn't do it gracefully, he tends to get quite heated and will let himself get carried away with his short-lived anger. this sometimes results in him badmouthing people he doesn't strictly mean to. otherwise he is a good friend, not the most loyal but he likes to think any backstabbing he does is warranted and deserved. he's surprisingly modest and rarely the loudest person in the room, although he has no qualms speaking his mind.
the secret: i'm fucking your girlfriend.
the loose ends: he got in a massive fight with his brother about six months ago, over the stupidest thing; they haven't spoken since.
" that person behind you, who are they? "
[/blockquote][/size][/font]your name: lacey.
your age: eighteen.
contacting: my aim is effiegumball. or pm me ;D
secret phrase: -admin edit!- yarly !
extras: -jigs-.
roleplay sample:
Dehlia hadn't been sleeping well recently, which might explain what she was still doing in bed at this hour. The large hand had long since back the twelve o'clock mark and yet there she lay, entangled in sheets of rose and lavender, her blonde hair wildly framing her face as she stared absently at the ceiling. She was imagining a little village in the strange plaster swirls decorating her roof, her people were building huts and churches before her very eyes and her imagination dancing erratically, pulling her into a state of sub-conscious. A yawn was what pulled her out of it and what caused her to finally decide it was time to get up and out of bed. She kicked the covers off and swung her legs over the side of her bed, hands gripped the edge as she arched her back rewarded with a small cracking noise. Her bones were terrible for cracking, every time she bent down her knees would crack, it made her feel old. Dehlia yawned again and stood up, glancing at herself in the mirror as she left her room. It was only a few years ago that Dee couldn't stomach seeing her own reflection, it felt like a lifetime ago and these days she was more than happy with the pale skinned figure that smiled back at her. It still made her happy to feel so content with her own appearance, finally it seemed rehab had worked it's magic on the youngster and while she wasn't brimming with confidence she was definitely getting there. Dehlia tucked her hair behind her ears as she walked through to her kitchen - she lived alone, which wasn't something she ever thought she'd be able to do. Dehlia liked company and she liked having someone to talk to, although she still had Riff-Raff and Jolie, the latter being the latest addition to the family.
Upon thinking of her beloved pets Dehlia truly noticed their absence, she frowned slightly, blonde eyebrows knotting slightly in the middle of her forehead as she scanned the room she was in. Raff's bed was in her bedroom, as was Jolie's cage - she knew Jolie would still be asleep but that didn't explain where Raff was. "Riff-Raff," She called, stalling her breath as she listened for the familiar sound of claws on floorboards. Ah, there is was! Dehlia stifled a giggle as the white and tan bulldog trotted merrily into the living room and made a beeline for her side. Dehlia leaned forward and kissed the air in front of Raff "Ooooh, good boy! You're such a good boy!" She cooed happily. Honestly, Dehlia had no idea what she would do without her canine friend, he'd even taken to Jolie well and the two had known one another long enough that Jolie could wander the apartment without having to fear that Riff-Raff would gobble him up in one little bite. Dehlia righted herself and continued on her quest for food, that was another thing that had drastically changed over the last few years. Now of course the whole reason her father had taken her back to England was because of her former eating habits, or lack thereof as the case had been. Dehlia could now openly talk about her several years battling an eating disorder; Dehlia tutted to herself. 'Battling' didn't seem like the right word to her, because at the time she hadn't wanted to eat, even as she lay the fetal position clutching her stomach that was agony due to lack of food, she hadn't actually wanted to eat. She knew she should of, but the desire to be thin outweighed any pain she felt, she'd been force fed various time during her disorder and each time she'd ripped the tube out. It had gotten so bad that she had to be restrained and even then she had thrashed and screamed until her throat was raw. Rehab had no been easy, but as she raked around her fridge for eggs Dehlia knew that it had been worst ever single second.
Dehlia shooed Raff from under her feet, banning her friend from the kitchen as she cooked her eggs, humming lightly to herself. She didn't know what tune it was, but it was pretty and she thought that perhaps she'd heard it from the radio. So caught up in trying to remember where she'd heard the tune, Dehlia didn't notice as she missed the rim of the frying pan completely and shattered the egg all over her cooker, not to mention her hand. Squealing in surprise Dehlia let out a gasp as she surveyed the damage, quickly she turned the gas off and stared at the mess for a few seconds. That was going to be a bitch to clean. She inhaled sharply and turned on her heel and left the kitchen, headed for the bathroom. As usual Raff followed her and watched from the door way as she cleaned her hands three times; Dehlia was still as anal as ever when it came to cleanliness and the neat, deliberate arrangement of her toiletries told any visitors that she was still as obsessive about organisation. Dehlia didn't see this as a problem, the perfect arrangement in her apartment suited her perfectly, she knew where everything was all the time and while it may not look tidy to the untrained eye to Dehlia it looked immaculate. Dehlia took a hair bobble from a drawer in the bathroom and pulled her messy hair into an even messier ponytail. Knowing her she'd get raw egg in it while she was clearing up the mess she's created; resigning herself to a pair of bright pink marigolds and a spray bottle of bleach and a cloth Dehlia removed the frying pan and the half cooked egg sitting in it. The egg was deposited in the bin atop a broken Starbucks mug - the last victim of Dehlia's clumsiness. Dehlia frowned as she noticed the mug and of course her thoughts didn't jump to damn amazing coffee, no, they turned to the old face she'd accidently ran into the other day.
Dan was something of a tender subject with Dehlia. When she'd turned up at her family home two years ago with her Dad carrying her cases and looking a little more than emaciated Dehlia hadn't mentioned a single word of Dan. For whatever reason her addled brain had told her that her parent's wouldn't understand Dan, and wouldn't get why she liked him so much, loved him even. She had told herself it would be better if they thought it was just a nasty self-image that was causing her misery and not the fact she had just lost the only thing keeping her going. So as you might expect when Dehlia lifted her head to meet the eyes of that very same boy she'd almost had a heart attack on the spot. She had stared at him for a few seconds before finally speaking - what had it she'd said? Oh yes, she'd ordered her drink. No greeting, no nothing. Just her order. Her heart hammered the entire time and for some stupid reason she'd changed her sit-in to a take away at the last moment, unsure if she could stay in the same building as him long enough to drink a cinnamon latte. It hadn't been the first time she'd seen him since coming back, but for whatever reason being served by him in her local coffee house made the difference in their relationship painfully obvious. Dehlia started slightly, realising she still had a bare foot on the leaver that opened the bin lid; she shook her head and removed it, the lid slamming shut and causing her to jump again. Great, now she was thinking about Dan, that was never good - or rather it was providing she ignored odd sensation in her chest. It was foolish of her to still feel this way after two years, she was sure he'd have changed by now, possibly as much as she had. What if he didn't like the new Dehlia? Or worse, what if she didn't like the new Dan. Dee actually laughed at that one, she'd like Dan no matter what and that was something she was deadly sure of. Snap out of it, and clean the bloody cooker! Her mind yelled at her, Dehlia sighed and turned away from the bin, making sure the gas really was off before spraying the cooker to within an inch of its life.
The scrubbing came next and she rinsed the cloth under the tap every so often to get rid of the uncooked egg white. She was about halfway through cleaning when she heard a knock on the door, she was about to clean to cloth and remove her gloves when she heard the voice. Dehlia froze, not quite sure if she'd just made that up or if it really was him at the door. She couldn't take the chance, she bolted for her front door still carrying a dirty cloth and wearing her marigold gloves "Coming! Don't go!" Okay that was a sure fire way to sound desperate but at this point she didn't care, she reached the door and bounced on the spot excitedly, a mix of fear and anticipation growing in her stomach. She unlocked the door and opened it, all of sudden aware of the way she looked, which was frankly terrible. Strands of hair hung from the lopsided ponytail and she was still wearing her pajamas - which was in fact a bright blue vest top and trousers to match, only they were covered in tiny pink robots, yeah, they're cool jammies - and her bare feet were cold against the metal threshold of her home. Then there he was, looking just as...wow as he had the last time, she smiled an awkward smile and glanced down at her gloves "I broke an egg. Like...all over my cooker," She explained, holding up the cloth as if proving her story. "Oh, uh, do you want to...?" She stepped to the side slightly and gestured behind her; as if on cue Raff appeared in the hallway and stared down at his owner and the stranger. Of course the dog didn't remember Dan and the three year old bulldog sauntered into Dee's room, settling down on her mangled covers instead of his own neat bed. Back in the hallway Dehlia was fidgeting, waiting for Dan to say something because she was sure as hell outta ideas.
