Post by summer on Jul 23, 2011 2:00:32 GMT
ISLA FAYE HASTINGS.
[/font]
[/size][/center]hello! i am summer and i am a million bazillion kajillion years old. i am boarding the female train, and i have been role playing for four years. also, i play soon to come. if you want to contact me, reach me by PM. that's all folks!
THE BASICS.
FIRST THINGS ARE ALWAYS FIRST.
[/font][/center]FIRST THINGS ARE ALWAYS FIRST.
FULL NAME : isla faye hastings
NICKNAMES : just isla.
AGE : eighteen. december 12th
GENDER : female
ETHNICITY : white with fillipino decendent
RELIGION : believer of anythig and everything
SEXUALITY : heterosexual
STATUS : single
MEMBER GROUP : wall flower
YEAR : freshman
PLAY-BY : hailee steinfeld
THE MINOR DETAILS.
WHY NOT EXPLORE OUR WORLD AND SEE ITS DEPTHS.
[/font][/center]WHY NOT EXPLORE OUR WORLD AND SEE ITS DEPTHS.
ISLA'S DISLIKES :
- boring class lectures
- dominant personalities
- arrogance
- peer pressure
- being the center of attention
- cauliflower
- old creepers
- cheaters (figuratively and literally)
- laundry days
ENTER FIRST NAME'S LIKES :
- baby carrots
- a nice wardrobe
- toffee candy
- good lighting
- photography
- scrapbooking
- children
- experimenting in the kitchen
- happy endings
- romance novels (a.k.a. chick porn)
- affectionate gestures
GOALS :
- finding a soulmate
- do at least one crazy (but still within the relms of sane) thing
- intern with a photography gig
- graduate (an obvious one)
- fall in love
FEARS :
- being alone
- being in the spotlight
- being taken advantaged of
SECRETS :
- she had been cheated on. (refer to history)
- and the son of a bitch who cheated on her took her virginity
WEAKNESS :
- insecure
- when she falls in love, she falls hard
- a bit oblivious
STRENGTHS :
- passionate
- versatile
OVERALL PERSONALITY :
- Shy - first impressions always hold the most pressure and to say isla does well under pressure would be the most blatant lie in the world. she comes off as very reserved at first - cue the blushing and he dowcasted gazes - but after you get a simple interesting conversation going, she would undoubtigly come out of her shell.
- Comfortable - she is an easy-going kind of girl. she is not much the one to judge unless it has anything to do with smoking in front of children (a big pet peeve of hers) and drinking while driving. (seriously people, how hard is it to just hitch a ride with a friend?)
- Organized - there is a place for everything and anything in life. she's anal enough to the point where everything must be labeled, alphabetized, and color coordinated, but at least SOME order should be in place.
- Materal - children bring isla much joy and she gets along quite swimmingly with them. the instinct to tend and care for people come most natural to her. some may miisconstruit this trait as over-bearing but she does have good intentions at heart.
- Positive - the glass never half empty and always half full. there is no fun in seeing the world world a cynic's eyes. things are better sugar coated.
- Hesitant - you know that one person who's always the one you spend hours on trying to convince to get out of the house for a girl's night out? yes. that woulld be isla. anything that may seem a bit reckless or careless, she would remain passive about. its not that she isn't any fun, she just prefers to have fun ...safely.
- Insecure - she is not that kind of girlfriend, the one who calls every five minutes to see where you are, who you're with, and if you're a cheating bastard, but she is most deffinitly the kind to doubt a man's words. being cheated on sucks. alot. and no way in hell does she want a repeat of that gut wrenching, heart stabbing feeling again.
- Oblivious - as a photographer, you must take it your surroundings. visually, her skills in capturing the obvious has been nearly perfected but when it comes to the more emotional things in life, isla falls a bit short.
- Hopeless Romantic - as if her collection of romantic comedies couldn't explain it enough. isla thrives on cliches and poetic lines. if you would like to woo the girl, take note that the small and intimte gestures are what wins her heart over the most.
- The classic girl next door - isla is no blonde bombshell or a dark brunette seductress. she probably couldn't smother anyone with her 'demure' gaze or wink flirtatiously without it looking like some half assed attempt at being sexy. No, isla is simply a simple girl.
SUBJECTS :
- Multimedia Art - photography is first and foremost main subject. It is a passion she has that would be considered a serious career path for her later years in life.
- Business Studies - taken as a minor, Isla wishes to use the knowledge she learns from this class to start up her own photography company.
BY PROCEDURE.
JUST TO STRAIGHTEN THINGS UP.
[/font][/center]JUST TO STRAIGHTEN THINGS UP.
HOMETOWN : boston, massachusetts.
CURRENT RESIDENCE : las vegas, nevada
MOTHER'S NAME : leanne mercer, kim hastings (step-mother).
FATHER'S NAME : sean hastings, brody mercer (step-father).
SIBLINGS : none.
OVERALL HISTORY :
Isla's upbringing cannot be considered a complete tragic sob story often featured in reality television or a picture perfect hallmark card picture of the family gathered around a fire backing a gingerbread house on Christmas day. Her past is a slight mixture of the two, leaving her with a relatively normal childhood. Her birthfather and mother had her out of wedlock or in more modern terms, love child. They were young and foolishly in love and in their second year of college. Who could honestly blame them for making happy memories even if they did not last for long. Her mother and father never married and eventually split up when she was five years old. Isla's mother, Leanne, held full time custody and she would visit her father, Sean. on weekends. Eventually both parties found their life partner. Sean married Kim, a woman Isla wasn't too crazy about but could tolerate and they currently have the second bun in the oven after her half-sister, Lisa was born when Isla was eight. Leanne married Brody, someone Isla actually didn’t mind and made a great father. They had met at work with her mother being an intern at Brody's law firm and him being her boss. Scandalous isn't it? She can remember the day when her mother brought Brody home. Isla was ten and they went to the zoo. That was one of the few days that highlighted her early childhood. Not long after, her mother and Brody got married with a small quaint backyard ceremony and life resumed from there.
After six years in Boston, the law firm decided to expand to the west coast which meant moving to Las Vegas. Why Vegas? Because of the strippers and great buffets? No. Not even close. Vegas was the 'convention hot spot' and the sole reason for the move for the company. Appprently it wasn't only the bunny ranch that attracted these stiff no-nonsense people to the infamous city of Las Vegas. Since conferences of all shape, sizes, and types, were held in this city, the area was prime location to expand and establish the western branch of this particular law company. Not to mention the amount of high-rollers flooding into the city for a weekend get-away would make rercruiting new clients and advertisement easy as pie. So her family packed all their belongings and shipped it off all the way across the country, only to arrive several days after their things had made it to their new home.
Luckily enough, Isla soon started up for college and even after her mother's many attempts at convincing her otherwise, she moved out on her own. Winchester community college was a good thirty to fourty minute drive from her parent's new home. Thank god. It was a moderate sized appartment and extremely spacious thanks to her parent's generosity. Or rather just Brody's since her mother still didn't approve of her moving out. What did she say again? It was definitely nothing along the lines of, 'my baby is all grown up!' and more like, 'you're going to get piss drunk one night, raped, then murdured in your new appartment and no one would find you until the smell of your rotting flesh would be alerted to the land owner.' way to sell it mom, way to sell it. To say the woman lives in a constant state of paranoia would be an understatement.
During her high school years, Isla one and only one serious relationship. Or at least, she took it seriously. Ivan was a great guy with seemingly no deal breaking flaws or secretive axe murdering tendencies. What she loved about him the most ay that she showered her with attention. No boys in her seventeen years of living had ever given her a second glance. Since freshman year she had already been written off as a girl that would take 'too much work'. With Ivan and all of his adoring smiles and pretty words, she honestly thought he would actually take the time to win her over. That she was worth the wait. Little did Isla know, it was the classic 'boy gets girl only to use her, sleep with her, then dump her' scenario. Ivan Mitton had a play-boy past. With his baby blue eyes and charming smile, it wasn't much of a shock as to how and why. Their relationship wasn't what she imagened when she saw herself truely in love. The chase was the best part. The feeling of being wanted and needed. But after making things official, Ivan followed the trend of every horny teenager in the world. There was no connection other then the physical one. After sometime, her insecurities of being with a good looking and constantly fawned over boy began to rear it's ugly head. But she avoided this nagging feeling like a plague. Not Ivan. Never Ivan. He's not that type of person. she would always constantly say to herself. That is until the fateful day she walked in on him with another girl. There is no dramatic yelling or grovellng for forgiveness like in the movies. No. This time it was simple. It was real life. And it ended just like every other time it had happened to someone else. Someone would get hurt, someone would feel just slightly guilty, then life moved on. Looking back on it now, Isla could replay that scene millions of times, each time she would be reacting in a different way. From throwing things, crying, yelling, cursing, begging, even pulling out a lightsaber and cutting off his god damn dick. But no matter how many times she rewinded that scene, there could never be a re-do to the way she handled that situation. Isla could never erased the way tears were streaming out of her eyes like floodgates being open. She could never erase the her aching pang in her chest when knowing that she could be easily replaced in mere seconds. She could never erase the feeling of shame and it shackling her to wall so she could not retaliate. And she could erase the look of impassveness and out right heartlessness from Ivan's face at the sight of her heart breaking into a million pieces.
FINISHING TOUCHES.
THE SAD ENDING TO A PERFECT BEGINNING.
[/font][/center]THE SAD ENDING TO A PERFECT BEGINNING.
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE :
Its been three days since Isla has moved to San Diego and man was it a drastic change from Boston. San Diego has this particular character about itself. An identity. A reputation. And with that comes a photographers heaven. She almost combusted with all the possibilities.
Of course it was a school day today, but jet setting from the east to west coast surely grantees a free pass from school for a week or at least two. Well, that and the fact that her parents forgot to register to the public school system where their new neighbor zoned to. (Thanks mom. Thanks dad.) Millbrook High seemed decent enough for any on lookers. The building was especially prison-like with its towering bricks, and Isla was pretty sure she could find a dungeon or two bellow the infrastructure. The secret passage way probably began in the teachers lounge. Its always the teachers lounge. That’s where the juicy stuff happens. That or the principal's office. But Isla wouldn’t exactly know that. She didn't have many run ins with the public school equivalent of head prison warden. She was a law abiding, brain-washed. robotic citizen, only eager to please her superiors. Breaking the rules doesn't give Isla much of that stomach dropping mind blowing rush anyhow.
Equipped with her Canon Rebel T2i, or what she liked to call her side-kick in all artistic related action, Isla left her house at the break of dawn, heading to the nearest transportation station toward the heart of San Diego itself. Downtown was a blur. Even as the sun barely peak beyond the city skyline, San Diego had already awoken with its bustling work traffic and bussiness claded pedestrians. They all had somewhere to go, somewhere to be. It made Isla look like the drifter she was. The early rise of the sun lead to many spectacular photo opportunities. The architecture of the city itself, was breath taking with its geometric and mordern styles. She wandered the city clocks and streets with no particular destination in mind, snapping away at anything she deemed unique and eye-catching.
Digging through her tan leather satchel, Isla reached for her phone, tapping the home screen button await the time to flash upon the screen. 10:32? Already? It took a moment for the realization to sink rock bottom. Suddenly the slight haunch in her shoulders and numbing ache of the soles of her feet made itself known. I really haven’t worn these shoes ... She silently cursed at herself while looking at her peep toed shoes. But they went so well with her outfit today. It was hard to stay angry when the royal blue fabric of her wedges complements the leather belted white shorts and horozontally striped blue and white tank top she wore so well. Now thar Isla actually thought about it, her day's get-up reminded her vaguely of a sailors uniform. If only she had topped her look with a red ribbon around of her such a hassle to do but very well executed high bun she sported today.
Depositing her camera into her satchel, Isla set out to the nearest source of energy she could find. Starbucks. The holy grail of all things creamy and delicious. Coffee wasn't a routine part of Isla's life. A treat to the tazo green tea crème frappuccino in grande size had its perks every now and then. And then is definitely now. She entered the glass double doors entering the cozy generic setting of every cafe and repeated her order to the barista.
"Name?" Oh god. Here it comes.
"Isla. with an I." She said sheepishly, already embarrassed for what was to come. The female barista crinkled her face, her body language clearly showing her confusion. No one ever knew how to spell her name.
"Like Island.” She offered, hoping to break the awkwardness only to stop and spell it out completely.
"Thanks. The barista apologized meekly and gestured to the pick up line, dismissing her to cater to the next person in line.
It's always so awkward waiting in lines. Especially when you know no one in line. Or in town .. in the state. Need she go on? Everyone always seemed to burrow their nose in their phones or twiddle their thumbs while tactically avoiding eye contact with every other person in the room. It’s like no one felt the need to expand outside their own group, mingle with a stranger for that matter. America is becoming too paranoid. Someone is either subjected by their looks or behaviors and thoroughly shunned for it. Don’t get her wrong! If there is some middle aged creeper with the iconic half baled head who’s ogling your jigglies or a guy about to pull out a gun, by all means, run the hell away. But for pathetic reasons as different clothes and hair doesn’t seemed like a very legitimate reason to ignore the people who surround you. Isla glanced around the café, rocking on the toes to the balls of her feet, soaking in her environment.
A coffee cup caught her eye, the four letter word “love” jumping out at her in flashing neon lights. L-O-V-E. Her four favorite letters and one favorite word. Just thinking about it made her crack a smile. I probably look like a nut job, smiling at myself and all. She brought her hands to cover her smile, hoping the gesture looked casual as she rode out the jittery waves that comes with the light hearted topic of love. Bringing her eyes up to the coffee cup’s beholder, she couldn’t help but observe aloud.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Isla said sardonically and very much so jokingly, “Let me guess, you’re a non-believer.” referencing to the cup in his hands and its’ quote. Yes. This stranger had a full head of this brown hair and definitely did not look like he had a concealed hand gun hidden under his clothing. Seems safe enough to me. Isla concluded. He passed the stranger danger test with flying colors.
