cerozer0

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

Hello yes i am here despite being stupidly quiet in the OOC
I'll probably write relationships sometime this weekend
;D

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

Ai "Gorilla Girl" Song

"Sorry!" Cried an accented voice, which was quickly muffled by the weakest war cry any delinquent could muster. Ai Somng stood in the middle of an attack, knuckles already bruised and bloodied by teeth and noses and hard, hard weapons. She was used to things like this already, the ambushes, the curses, the angry, angry losers. Most couldn't understand her unbridled strength (and that was fine; Ai didn't really get it either), others were just so adamant about getting her rank. Either way, Ai wasn't going to let these silly school boys knock her down-- not yet.

Wind whistled above her head as a bat swung just a bit too close for comfort. Ai lowered into a tight crouch and then burst forward, tackling her assailant down into the mud. A windpipe squeezed under her fist, and once the choked gasp of her enemy burst forward she freed him and dodged to the left. A pipe nailed her shoulder, knocking away the little balance she had collected. It struck again, this time burrowing into her stomach, and Ai held back a grunt of pain.

"Fucking bitch!" Screamed the pipe-wielding student, raising his arms again, and Ai took his moment of set up to twist over and knock him off his feet. She was up a second afterward, grabbing one end of the pipe to get the student into a choke hold. He was practically lifted off his feet as she straightened and turned to the remaining three boys, eyes dark and dangerous beneath the brim of her Adidas hat.

"Are we done playing yet? I'm getting a bit bored." She whined, hearing a stuttering gasp from the body before her. She let him fall without even a passing glance, and twisted the pipe around to lean on it. Her eyes were bloodthirsty and vaguely amused, and the rest of her face was shrouded behind uncertainty thanks to her medical mask and hat.

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

Shiro "Glasses" Ishinuma

The blood roared in Shiro's ears as he watched the student in front of him knock another flat on his back with a single thrust of his bat. Danger! His mind cried, fight or flight instantly willing his limbs to clench and unfurl. There came no chance, nor reason to escape, however, as Reiji returned his blank stare to Shiro and instead offered to pay for his meal. Shiro blinked once, twice, not trusting his own ears. Why would someone in Seiryuu offer to pay for his lunch? Sure, he did the same not even a few moments before but that was for a boon; an escape to not get pummeled to near-death or worse. But no, Reiji ordered him another set and offered to pay, and suddenly there was an odd weight lifted off his chest and he could finally suck in an even breath.

"Uh," He started back again as Reiji leaned in and requested his name. Shiro swallowed a gasp, instead squeaking out, "I-Ishinuma Shiro!" As casually as he could muster without bursting into tears. Behind them, the lunch lady coughed, and he turned slowly to see two lunch trays all set up and ready to be devoured. Shiro dug through his back pocket until he found a few bills and paid for Reiji's lunch, staring down at his feet. The roar of his heart was now just white noise, along with the clatter of other people in the cafeteria and the gurgling moans of the broken student just a few inches away from him.

What a day it's going to be, huh?

Shiro reached for his lunch and scooted over slightly to give Reiji access to his. The student just below Reiji was curling onto his side, glaring up at the two with wild eyes. "You hanging out with Glasses now, Blank Slate?" His laugh was a choked gasp, "What a fucking joke!" Shiro's eyebrows twitched at the nickname and his eyes narrowed to dangerous, though otherwise harmless slits. Fucking Seiryuu kids, his mind growled.

"So, uh... Thanks? I guess? For lunch, uhm--"

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

Shiro "Glasses" Ishinuma

Shiro wasn't very lucky.

He felt the hand on his shoulder and he knew, again, that this was fact. He wasn't very lucky. Seiryuu, and every painstaking day it brought Shiro, reminded him. Every found fight, near-death experience, and rugged glare reminded him. Shiro Ishinuma was unlucky, and that would never change.

Honestly, the kid was just trying to get lunch. Set A was (arguably) the most edible lunch plan in the whole cafeteria, so of course Shiro would order it. He got it everyday, it was routine, he had no reason not to get it. So, he ordered, waited, and then felt it. The unforgettable weight of flesh on flesh, hand on shoulder, student on student.

"Switch your fucking set."

Shiro turned around all too suddenly, back pressing hard against the counter as he tried to form as much space between himself and Reiji as possible. The lunch lady behind them faltered at Shiro's sudden outburst, and he cast a worried gaze over his shoulder at her. His silent plea for help was unanswered as she instead avoided eye contact. "A-ah, Ishada-san," He stammered, eyes narrowed to two anxious slits, "Oh– did you want this set? I'm so sorry, here, take it! I-I'll even pay, if that's what you want just..."

Shiro curled tightly around himself, breathing quickly as he tried to ignore the fear of getting hit. God, couldn't he be blessed with one uneventful day? Shiro Ishinuma was unlucky, and this, of course, was just another reminder.

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

"All of you are weak!"

Ai "Gorilla Girl" Song

Sixteen || First Year || Rank 15|| The New Kid

✿ Kills: 00
✿ Injuries: 83
✿ Maimings: 12
✿ Weapon: Fists and Feet!
✿ Chinese transfer student.
✿ Always wears hats and medical masks.
✿ Can't control her own strength.

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

Sam Carrington

---

---

---

---

N A M E

Samantha Rose Carrington

A G E

42

G E N D E R

Female

O C C U P A T I O N

Gallery Owner/Painter

S E X U A L I T Y

Homosexual

R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S

It's Complicated

F A M I L Y M E M B E R S

Sam is bringing along Jesse Valentine, her girlfriend, and her son Sylvester Carrington.

A P P E A R A N C E

A life of partying is never truly evident on a face as pretty as Sam's. Though her teeth are yellow form cigars and her body is much frailer than most, she has managed to keep a pristine look about herself. Green eyes glare out through fashionably-hooded lids, stark in color compared to her pale skin and dark hair. A straight nose, large lips, and angular, painstakingly painted eyebrows draw her looks together into a lovely collection of scowls and smirks. Makeup, of course, is the only thing keeping her from looking like a living corpse.

Sam has a lithe, small frame, procured from lack of eating and general avoidance of a healthy life style. Frailty and Samantha Carrington could be synonymous for each other. Being so thin-boned, she is easy to break and much quicker to bruise. Even the slightly knock of a coffee table against her knee can summon large, colorful bruises. Her pale skin only makes the sights worse. When shes hosting a party, she can usually be found in cocktail dresses and heel, but when she is working coveralls and white, paint-splattered shirts do her well.

---

---

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Why are old woman always so bitter? Well, like Samantha, they have a strict diet of black coffee, cigarettes, family issues, and olives. Being the first daughter to the Carrington household, her life was sort of a test run. A cautious tale of give or take, watch or ignore, love or neglect. Mommy and Daddy really, really tried, they know this, Sam knows this, and yet she still left the house at eighteen to wallow in all kinds of negativity. Samantha is depressed, simple as that, and her own rash actions and the Carrington's "hands-off" parenting are the leading causes.

Having gone from a rich, pampered high school graduate to a poor painter over night long, long ago, Sam has learned to fend for herself. It's a dog eat dog world, and those with weak wills won't survive. Sure, most nights she drowned her sorrows in alcohol and drugs, but during the day she fought for her place among the San Fran artist community. Her artwork was always a clear window into her soul, splashes of colors and lines that drew together to create something worth admiring. Sam's natural hot-headedness and general stubborn will kept her meagerly afloat in her beginning years, and then a strive to get better, to feel better, brought her to the "splendid" life she holds now.

Of course, having a pent house at the age of twenty-eight had its perks. Sam became quite the party-thrower. Having been a general nightlife junky, as she started throwing her own shindigs she began relying more and more on substances to feel alive. Depression and stress was forgotten with a few chugs or tablets. Flashing lights and soul-thumping music swelled life into her, inspired her art, choked her sadness and quelled her long-lasting rage. The party animal Sam was the drunk Sam, the loud Sam, the bitterless, pastless, richest Sam.

How do you cure something that doesn't wish to be cured anymore?

Sadness aside, Sam can constantly be found in a state of pouting. She holds the razor-sharp tongue of a sailor and the wit of a comedian, with her dark eyes passing on every unspoken word as easily as one could with a single glare. Drinking doesn't really mute this unbridled rage, only numbs it, so it is always best to stay on the good side of the artist. Despite this, Sam holds an odd protectiveness to younger children and small animals. She's motherly, though it is hard to see through the mounds of depression and rage and alcohol, and though she doesn't seem like it she truly wants to get better so she can be a positive light in her son's life. Sam wants to raise her boy better than her own parents raised her, but old habits die hard, and old wounds just never know when to heal.

L I K E S

• Traditional Art
• Photography
• Bitter coffee
• Sylvester
• Smoking
• Alcohol
• Clubs and bars
• Nighttime

D I S L I K E S

• Tea
• Mathematics and sciences
• Sweets
• Authority
• Country music
• Being alone
• Being sober
• Mornings

H I S T O R Y

"You want me to be something I can never be, mom! I just-- I can't be what you want!"

Samantha was the first in a long line of mistakes or almost-mistakes. The oldest child, the responsible one, the angel, the spoiled princess. Never anything else, just "the first". Cassiopeia tried her hardest with Sam, tried to fight passed her own family issues to give her daughter the mother she deserved. Of course, there is something superficial about getting advice from dozens of parenting books, something cold and unloving about it. Not to say Cass wasn't loving, oh no, she loved her daughter like she loved the rest of her children, but it was just hard for her to show Sam couldn't see it, and because of that, she could never be able to understand it

Sam was always the right-brained type. She loved painting. She loved color and words. She loved everything that had nothing to do with her family's business and the some. Of course, her father would always be critical of her attempts at artwork. He was a strong-willed man who sought perfection, and Sam thought she would never inspire him or please him. She grew jaded from his criticisms, callouses caved in over her heart to try and protect her fragile interest in her hobby. He was a key factor in her meltdown after graduation.

Sam lived alone, basically, from birth to her teen years. Cass and Lee were always so busy with work, she was left to play with nannies and cleaning ladies and babysitters. Sam focused mostly on her artwork, while trying to dodge all business related-work her parents would have liked her to partake in. They pushed course son he rin high school, offered to hire her tutoring for her failing math and science and business classes, and the stress of it all just grew and grew until the night of graduation. Now, Sam had been quite the rebel in her youth as well, and she just barely squeezed herself onto that stage to get her diploma. Obviously, her folks were annoyed, tried to get something like understanding out of her, and all they got was an outburts of rage and stress and fears.

"You want me to be something I can never be, mom! I just-- I can't be what you want!"

She left soon after the fight simmered, took her old Mustang and drove, drove, drove all the way to New York City. She left behind her brothers and sisters, her family, in a wild tantrum, and she often brags that it was the best decision of her life.

It wasn't.

But Jesse Valentine was. Jesse was a Brooklyn native, a butch inspiration, a hand to hold. Sam fell for her slowly and then all at once, feeling that she had finally found her muse in those brown eyes. The two moved in together and suffered through starving years and the fought to find themselves. Without college, Sam had a much harder time getting her paintings sold or getting her name out into the world.

And then she met Ernie. At the age of twenty-four, she started dating and eventually married this man after Jesse left to join the military despite Sam's worries. He owned an art gallery, and helped her gain momentum in the NYC art scene. He also gave her a child, accidentally, drunkenly. This mistake cost them their marriage, and Sam, now burdened with another life along with her own, sought comfort in other bodies and drinks and smokes. She neglected Sylvester at first, and oh what a mistake it was. By his fourth birthday she had tried to swear off her needs and wants in favor of protecting her son, but, again, old habits die hard.

She still tried, though. She still loved and wanted to be loved back. Sam had decided one night, mutely, as she tucked Sly into bed, that she could and would die for him. That was how much she loved him. That was a mother's thought, a mother's wish, and a mother's burden.

Jesse was an ever constant variable in Sam's whirlwind of a life. She was gone, yes, but they always fell back together somehow. Arizona and New York weren't that far apart, if you compared distances through cell phone calls and train fares and fights and fights and fights. With each call, and each trill of her son's voice as he cried "Aunt Jesse" into the phone, Sam found herself falling even harder for her now-distant "friend". Of course, when she got the package from her family, Jesse was the first one she called, and of course, she was the one Sam wanted to bring along.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S I N F O

Theme

Relationships WIP

Lee Carrington

"Without his criticisms I might not have made it in this world. Still, he is like mother, and I'm not sure forgiveness is available for either of them yet.

Write a little more in-depth about what they really think about this person here.

Cassiopeia Carrington

"I wish I wasn't so stubborn, if I was a bit more lax I would be able to easily tell her I'm sorry."

Write a little more in-depth about what they really think about this person here.

Sly Carrington

Sylvester "Sly" Carrington

--
A good-natured sixteen year old with a passion for comedy that is blonde enough to pass as Jesse Valentine's kid, too. Been hit twice by cars; uses crutches.

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

"I didn't see a thing-- it was a mistake!"

Shiro "Glasses" Ishinuma

Seventeen || Second Year || Rank 84|| The Tranquil Dragon

✂ Kills: 00
✂ Injuries: 00
✂ Maimings: 00
✂ Weapon: Nothing
✂ Unlucky to the extreme
✂ Really, really scared, like, all the time.
✂ Is only in this school because he missed his other high school entrance exam.

---

---

"..."

Kei "No Face" Akimoto

Eighteen || Third Year || Rank 10|| ???

♢ Kills: ??
♢ Injuries: Many
♢ Maimings: ??
♢ Weapon: Pocket Knives, Throwing Knives, ect.
♢ No one has ever seen their face.
♢ Seems to only retaliate in self defense.
♢ Protects Glasses for some unknown reason.

✄ d r a g o n . H U N T !!

BOI I HERE

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

@Gowi

^^^^

Not saying my 40 yr old Carrington is finished but,,,, ;)

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

@Undine

IM A GAYLORD AND IM PROUD

BRING ME MORE QUEERS!!!! I DEMEND TO HAVE THE GAYEST RP IN ALL OF RPG!!!