Post by kaitlin on Oct 30, 2011 18:37:17 GMT
DESMOND NOLAN O'RILEY
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[/size][/center]hello! i am kaitlin and i am 16 years old. i am boarding the female train, and i have been role playing for four years. if you want to contact me, reach me at xokaytay@gmail.com or pm me. that's all folks!
THE BASICS.
FIRST THINGS ARE ALWAYS FIRST.
[/font][/center]FIRST THINGS ARE ALWAYS FIRST.
FULL NAME : Desmond Nolan O'Riley
NICKNAMES : Des - it is preferred to his actual given name though he will respond to either or any name that an individual would come up with as long as it isn't too ridiculous
AGE : Twenty-one, January 4
GENDER : Male
ETHNICITY : Mostly Irish and Scottish from his father but also Greek from his mother's side
RELIGION : Atheist
SEXUALITY : Heterosexual
STATUS : Sigle
MEMBER GROUP : Hell-Raiser
YEAR : Junior
PLAY-BY : Kellin Quinn
THE MINOR DETAILS.
WHY NOT EXPLORE OUR WORLD AND SEE ITS DEPTHS.
[/font][/center]WHY NOT EXPLORE OUR WORLD AND SEE ITS DEPTHS.
DESMOND'S DISLIKES :
- Most people, especially males
- Cold weather
- Waking up with a hangover
- Clingy girls
- His father
- Morning people
- Getting busted
- Bad tastes in music
DESMOND'S LIKES :
- Attractive females
- Vandalism
- Opposing teachers / adults
- Chinese food
- Smoking weed / drinking / partying in general
- Singing and playing guitar
- Sex and fooling around
- His appearance
GOALS :
- Make it big in the music industry
- Go through college without failing classes
- Eventually have a family
- Become a successful graphic designer
- Be happy
FEARS :
- Death
- Losing others
- True rejection
SECRETS :
- Having an abusive childhood
- Losing his girlfriend to suicide
WEAKNESS :
- Not using girls
- Letting his walls down / trusting others
STRENGTHS :
- Music (singing, playing guitar)
- Charismatic
OVERALL PERSONALITY :
- Des is a complicated guy to understand. Off the bat, he acts like the typical tortured soul type of guy. Or a jackass, though he prefers former. He acts rebelliously towards all forms of authority (excluding his parents). This includes, but is not limited to, teachers, principals, etc. He does daring things for the hell of it, for attention and bragging rights to the opposite sex. And because he is bored of the average teenage lifestyle where they are expected to behave like small puppies, guided around for show as they are rewarded with small treats for good behavior. No, fuck that. He will pull the school fire alarm – as he did in 8th grade. He will jump over cars that do not belong to him / his equally rebellious and stupid friends with his skateboard. But he does all of this because he craves attention. Likewise, Des gets with a lot of girls for this reason. He is known as a womanizer / heartbreaker / man whore to most people attending his school. He shows little affection of the person that he's with, treating them more as an object or prize than a person. It's only a matter of time before he dumps them in a very uncaring manner - earning him a great deal of enemies among both genders. He has been in love one time, and it did not end well. He is terrified of falling in love again, he promised himself that he would keep up his walls unless he was one hundred and twenty percent sure that his feelings would be returned and kept that way for a long time.
He has a very tough act. He has been known to snap at a single moment while in an argument. One minute there will be harsh words being exchanged and the next, fists will be flying and punches received. He is fair, however, not bringing other people in the matter if it is just a disagreement between him and another peer. He won't say no to a fight and is often seen as 'the troubled bad boy' - which is completely inaccurate because he is not troubled in the least, just bored. He takes part in having illegal beverages and substances and is always at an unauthorized social gathering. It's all part of his appearance: he would rather be sitting at home in the dark or working out at the gym or even occasionally studying, but reputation is everything in high school. He's pretty confident that he is going to graduate in one way or another. He isn't stupid per say, but acts dumb in classes for the lack of care / boredom. Des gets decent grades on tests and excels in history. Go figure.
Des, very deep down, is a giant teddy bear. He wants to have someone to care about but is afraid to put his feelings on the line and expose himself to anyone, ruining his image and possible relationship with that same person. He enjoys watching Disney Pixar movies and cuddling with people. If someone were to catch his interest, you can guarantee that he would write a song of them: singing to them while playing his precious acoustic guitar. Des would never, ever try to hurt someone like that on purpose. The worst feeling in the world is seeing your actions actually emotionally damage the very person that you love. He acts this way to all of his true friends – the few he actually has. It sounds cheesy, but he’d really do anything for them, whether it’s giving them a ride home at 3 AM or spending the night over while they cry about a death in the family. He’s just a big softie trying to keep people out of his life so that he won’t be hurt.
SUBJECTS :
- Multimedia Art - Desmond likes design. He's good at it. And if he's good at it, then why shouldn't he try and make a career at it? It may not being the highest paying job, but it's something to fall back on.
- Music - His first career choice is to be a professional musician. He wants some background knowledge on music in general so he has a bigger hand over the opposing people.
- Music Production / Tech - If he can't become an artist himself then a job producing other promising starlight kids is a good option for him. He has an eye for talent, or so he likes to say.
BY PROCEDURE.
JUST TO STRAIGHTEN THINGS UP.
[/font][/center]JUST TO STRAIGHTEN THINGS UP.
HOMETOWN : Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
CURRENT RESIDENCE : Las Vegas, NV
MOTHER'S NAME : Helen Phiobe O'Riley - 46 - Housewife
FATHER'S NAME : Nolan Lucas O'Riley - 48 - Lawyer
SIBLINGS : Sister(s): Kennedy (16), Reagan (13), and Aspen (5)
OVERALL HISTORY :
Growing up wasn’t all that different for me. I was like all of the other little boys: rough and tumble, playing catch with the neighbors and racing around my front lawn with deathly speed until my mom caught up to me in three steps and told me that dinner was ready to eat. I was never seen without scraped knees or bruises from falling down everywhere I went. There was never a moment when I wasn’t outside: except when I was at school or eating with my family for the brief moment that they made me sit down against my will, say a few lines to Jesus that we were thankful for the food that he provided us with even though we were spending our own money for it, and shoveled food into my mouth before I hopped down and went outside again. My friends and I would have endless adventures with swords and daggers and monsters that needed to be slayed. Everything seemed perfect on the outside of our family – but there was so much crumbling beneath our feet.
My father had a drinking problem ever since he was an angry teenager. After work, he would go downstairs and suppress his anger and stress in bottles of beer or glasses of straight grin. After downing so much, he would become even angrier and let everything out. My mother referred to this as his ‘Daddy time’ and we all had to be really quiet and stay away from him or else he would be upset with us. The most vivid memory I can recall as a young child, maybe 4 or 5, was knocking over a plate during ‘Daddy time’ while trying to reach for the cookies I wasn’t supposed to have. Kennedy began crying from the loud noise, causing a great racket before someone heard it. My father stormed upstairs and picked me up by my shirt. His face was covered in swear and his face was red – looking like a map with all of the veins sticking out of it. In clenched teeth, he told me to “shut the fuck up before I make you”. He dropped me onto the cold kitchen floor before thundering back downstairs. The palms of my hands were cut with the sharp shards of china. My mother found me crying and bleeding. She didn’t say anything as she cleaned my hands and wrapped Band-Aids on them. Instead, she held me so close that I could feel her heart beat and her shaking body as she cried with me.
During middle school, I began to see girls differently. While most boys still shunned the girls and claimed that they were gross and confusing, I liked hanging out with them. There was something else about them that I couldn’t really understand. They seemed to want to talk to me more than they did the other boys. At first I thought it was because I was nicer to them than the others were, but I eventually learned that it was because a combination of good looks, out-going personality, and music fanatic: an equation that girls like to gobble up. In that time, I had my first kiss and my first girlfriend (only lasting a week before she decided that Bobby in Ms. Green’s class was cuter than me). It’s where everything started. As I grew older I could see that girls were becoming one of my bigger interests. They became a bigger importance than school, than family, than listening to music or being in a band. They influenced just about everything I did: if it wouldn’t make that cute girl in the short skirt happy, then why bother? That was also the time when I started getting into fights quicker. My father had been becoming more violent than usual. I was afraid that I was becoming like him.
At the start of high school, I had already developed a reputation. I became either ‘Des the hot guy who plays guitar and can sing like a fucking angel with the sexy piercings and even sexier face and oh he’s such a badass’ or ‘Des the fucking asshole guy who I really want to beat the shirt out of’. There were girls left and right. But none of them seemed to hold my interest anymore. Except for Summer. She was my new neighbor from California. She was tan and beautiful with dark long hair and a sweet disposition. She was quiet and laid-back, the exact kind of girl that I had been looking for without realizing it. We hung out a lot, sharing laughs and inside jokes over ice cream and movies and eventually in between kisses. She was my steady girlfriend for a year. I loved her more than anything else in the entire world. I didn’t even look at any other girl. Summer was my world, the only girl that I had ever cared about. I treated her like a princess and in return, she gave me all of the love I needed. People would look at us with such jealousy but we didn’t even care. It wasn’t until the end of sophomore year that things took a turn for the worse. Her parents were going through a horrible divorce, putting her and her brother in the middle of things. She started cutting again - the faded scars turned into new ones that were bright pink and angry. As much time as I spent holding her in my arms, it wasn't enough. One morning I called her cell phone but with no reply. I thought of it as nothing and continued on my day. She hadn't called back by the next evening, but I figured maybe she was having a hard time with her parents so I walked eight miles to her house to see if there was anything wrong.
The first thing I saw was the lights - red and blue swirling on top of a police cruiser. My steady walk turned into a full out sprint. A few officers told me to stand back but I pushed through. Her mother was crying, her ex-husband holding her in his arms. They saw me and she started sobbing even harder. She couldn't say anything but pointed to an ambulance sitting on the curb. I ran. Nononononononono. This couldn't be happening. It was all a sick dream. Maybe she had just broken her leg or hit her head on the stairs or. My hopes were cut off as I saw her before they put the white sheet on top of her. Her long hair was tangled in a mess, her feathered Native American hat that I had bought for her as a silly gift still sitting on her head. Her skin was grey, ocean eyes opened in a blank stare. Her skin was cold and wet to the touch - bright yellow and red paint covering her cheeks as some type of war-paint. They told me that she had drowned herself - probably in early hours of the morning. When her mother couldn't find her, she had searched everywhere before calling the police. The search party found her in the river. They gave me the necklace that she had been wearing as some sort of a sick keepsake. I couldn't. I ran. I ran and ran and ran and ran some more until I was hopelessly lost in some field, vomiting and crying until there was nothing left inside of me. My mom finally called and picked me up. Six months later I got my first tattoo - a chest piece reading "Before 'You' I Serve Nothing" in a cursive script. Most people assume it's religious but it actually reminds me of Summer everyday I see it. There isn't a second where I don't miss her.
After that I was a mess. Sleeping with anyone, just trying to fill the void that she left behind. My grades dropped. I was losing weight. There was literally nothing I could do without feeling a paralyzing tiredness hit me like a wave. My mother tried to give me medication that the doctor has perscribed. I rejected it, pretending to take the pills but spitting it out in the skin. I attempted to kill myself just to be with her. We had talked about marriage, spending the rest of our lives together. There was no meaning in my life anymore. No reason to continue. This is when I joined the band back again, writing songs to keep my occupied. It sounds dorky but when I play (especially acoustic guitar - that was what she liked best) and sing, I feel like Summer is still with me.
Meanwhile, three year ago, my father hit me in one of his drunken rages. With everything else going on, I pinned him against the wall and hit him hard enough to break his nose, I told him that he wasn’t going to do this to us anymore. My mother, Kennedy, and Reagan were crying downstairs, trying to mop the blood off his face and the cream colored carpet. In the midst of everything else, no one noticed when Aspen and I slipped out of the house. She told me she wanted to go to the zoo to see the elephants and penguins. While we watched the elephants with ice cream in our hands, she asked me if they ever were sad. She was sad that Daddy kept yelling when he was mad and it hurt her ears and she wanted him to go away. She turned to me with her innocent eyes and told me that she wished I was her daddy instead. I tried not to cry, I really did. Instead, I just held her close to me and realized why my mom didn’t say anything to me back when I was five. It was because sometimes words couldn’t explain everything you needed to say. When we went home, my dad apologized and told everyone that he was joining an AA program down at a local church.
Since then, everything has been fine, more or less. I graduated from high school with decent grades and acceptable SAT scores. Though I've moved from home, from what I hear, everyone seems to be happy enough with each other at home. Dad has been more calm and collected. Mom says that everyone misses me. Aspen calls me every night from Mom's cell phone to tell me about her time in kindergarten. Life on my own has been different than I expected, but somer things never change. There’s still a sharp pain whenever I see the picture of me and Summer on the park bench, just laughing with her legs draped on mine. It hurts to know that everything in life is so fragile, one moment you are happy and the next you are broken, but sometimes you have to let go. “You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.” – Jan Glidewell.
FINISHING TOUCHES.
THE SAD ENDING TO A PERFECT BEGINNING.
[/font][/center]THE SAD ENDING TO A PERFECT BEGINNING.
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE :
The substitute fussed with the seating chart, fingers slightly trembling as she pointed to each name and voice shaking the slimmest bit. She was a tiny thing in a skirt and white dress-shirt; glasses perched on the end of her petite nose and honey colored hair wrapped in a pin-tight bun. This was her first time filling in for a teacher, or at least her first time subbing the remedial senior math class. Her legs quivered in those high heels, her calves tightened with all of the stress that the boisterous class had to offer.
He was going to have fun with this one.
“Princeton? Is there a Princeton present?”
The teenager sitting up front lazily flicked his hand into the air. He looked at her, blue-green eyes sizing her up. He flipped his rich brown hair and offered the smile. Not just any smile, the smug smirk that meant he knew that he had found his prey. It wasn’t like he was going to have a hard time – there was hardly another guy in school that could match him in appearance. He always looked his best; there was no limit to the expense of clothes. Today’s outfit consisted of: a white t-shirt underneath an oxford shirt, and red Ralph Lauren sweater on top paired with well-fitting jeans and a belt – both from Abercrombie and Fitch. His gauges today were wooden with an anchor fitting neatly inside. He flashed his teeth in a pleasant grin.
“Yeah, I’m Carter.”
“Excuse me?” she said and looked down at the list again. “It says you’re Princeton.”
The whole class burst out into laughter, the teenager shaking his head with another one of his dazzling smiles. “You’re real funny, Miss. I’m Princeton but everyone calls me Carter.”
“Oh,” was all the substitute had to offer before continuing on the list.
She was going to play hard to get. Carter liked it when he had to put a little bit of a fight up for a girl to get into bed with him – he wasn’t exactly one to go for the easy girls unless he needed sex or was high and/or drunk out of his mind. He pretended to pay attention as she continued roll and introduced herself before begging to insert the video. Substitutes always were given instructions to play a video while the teacher was away. Like the teachers had no hope for their class anymore. It was senior year after all, everyone knew if they were going to graduate or not.
He focused on her as she tried to read her book. Every once in a while her eyes would flick upwards to see if he was still staring at her. Carter made no move to try and hide it, winking at her. The substitute – what was her name, Miss Anderson? – blushed bright read, momentarily excusing herself from the classroom. This was his chance. He leapt from his desk and slipped out of the room, unoticed. His cell phone in his hands, lightning quick fingers texted Amanda as he walked out of the front doors and towards his car in the parking lot 'where r u bbygirl'.
