Post by taylor nicholas rowley on Oct 6, 2008 0:31:28 GMT -5
oh my, taylor!
what's your name and age, babe?
“because i’m sure you can’t read and all, my name is taylor nicholas rowley. i still hate my mother and father for giving me a name that can also belong to a girl, but i also hate them for abandoning me so i guess it doesn’t mean much nowadays. anyways, i’m nearly sure that taylor was my grandfather’s name— or perhaps his middle name? i wouldn’t put money on it, but my folks aren’t smart enough to pull an original name out of their arses. so it had to belong to someone— a relative, a best friend, a lover? the surname rowley, technically, means ‘locality,’ like a field or plain, however i’m sure my relatives didn’t check that out when they changed it from rodriguez when we moved here from out of the country so many centuries back. as for my middle name, i don’t know where it came from. but it makes for quite the interesting nicknames people come up with. i’ve gotten nicky, nick, some people simply call me nicholas. i don’t know why, though— my name is taylor. that, and i’m twenty years old. not nearly as interesting as the origins of my name, i assure you; it’s simply a number.”
i like mysterious people. you got any secrets?
“i suppose even a person like myself possesses some sort of deep dark secrets. however, the difference between me and everyone else in the world, is that i wouldn’t be afraid to own up if asked about it. i’m not ashamed that i’m attractive and just happen to make money off of it; i’m not ashamed that i have the ability to make horny, insatiable men scream like a cheap whore. why would i be ashamed of that? it’s not something i broadcast, nor that i am particularly proud of, but i wouldn’t deny it. it’s almost obvious, considering i’m twenty, on my own, and definitely making it. i wonder where people think i get the money to pay my two cars off with from— i could probably write a very long novel with all of the assumptions. i reckon you want to know what happened to me that brought me to what some would consider such a shit life— my sob story. well, really, i don’t have one. i’m sure there are one or two other kids around lyon that were abused by their father and then abandoned by the both of them. right? as i’m sure you may have guessed, i don’t get an allowance any more, nor do i get any sort of a trust fund from the two wankers. so i had to make my own income somehow. now, something you will quickly learn about me is that i’m a shit worker— i’m horrible at organization, i’m rubbish at staying focused on one thing for over a half hour, let alone an eight hour work day, and i absolutely can’t stand people bossing me around, or telling me i can’t do what i want to do. so, i really had no where else to turn. i mean, with my track record i couldn’t hold a job for over a few days.
“it was around then i began to finally consider my options. i had a list of what i was good at, and what i was horrible at. what it came down to was that i was good at two things— fucking, and spending money. so i used those to my advantage and serviced all of the men and women in lyon that were not receiving their full sexual pleasure from their significant other. considering i have absolutely no conscience, it doesn’t bother my that i’m contributing to someone cheating on their spouse. or that i am sexually pleasuring a man with grey drapes that match the carpet. prostitute is such an ugly word, though, so i tend to stray away from such terminology— i, personally, prefer ‘lady of the night’. anyways, it’s been nearly three years since i’ve been in business, and it’s booming. as a matter of fact, i just bought a rolex for luc. however, it seems that i still have no such luck getting into his pants. okay, so i have no intention of doing that unless he’s buying, but it sounded amusing in my head. anyways, as much as i’m sure you’d like to know the hairy details— like how big it is, and how good i am— i’m not interested in entertaining you for much longer. on a far more boring note, i am also afraid of large bodies of water and spiders, as well. i am the wrong man to call if you see a spider in your room and want someone to give it a good whack for you. i wouldn’t touch those eight-legged beasts with a ten-foot pole. on a more serious note, and this is actually a legit, secretive, secret— why, however, i’m not exactly sure. i have a strange passion for astronomy. i’m really good at it, too. and that’s not my obviously conceited side coming out— i’m really good at it. perhaps it’s because i take at least half an hour every night to look at the stars, or perhaps it’s not— the bottom line is that i’m very interested in astronomy. i think i don’t like people knowing because it sounds like a more feminine quality than it is one of masculine, and i don’t like that.”
you think you look
“i wouldn’t even get me started if i were you. but i’m not, thank god. and, for your information, i don’t think i’m pretty hot— i know i am. how else would i make steady income every weekend? counting days i take off for coursework and college. and yes, believe it or not, a face like this is often seen in the classroom. brown is a pretty neutral color, and i’m aware that i’m not the only person in this world that has that colour of hair, however i’m sure that the texture is what interests most. girls and men alike can’t keep their hands off of it, however i am waiting for the night my beautiful brown locks get ripped out by the insensitive dick who can’t control his or her own pleasure. my eyes, however, are not equally as boring as my hair is— those are a brilliant blue, somewhat more of a clearer shade that is, if i do say so myself, quite mesmerizing to the eyes. my build is impressive, however nothing too terribly impeccable. i don’t like the idea of breaking someone between the sheets, so i keep my benching contained and somewhat light. i need a reason to boast, though, so i do all i can to keep myself presentable and tamed. i think, considering how i look on a day-to-day basis, that i’m pretty good at it. i dare you to try and prove me wrong.”
got any distinguishing features?
“the very idea of needles repulse me, so no thank you. however, if i were to be forced to choosing, i would say that my eyes or my facial bone structure are my most distinguishing features. adults have told me on many occasions that my facial structure portrays that of a very mature adult, opposed to a twenty-year-old young man, which is probably simply feeding my ego, however is still complimentary. my eyes are distinguishing simply because such a crystal blue is hard to find these days, and i’m quite fond of being one to possess them. however, it is slightly irritating when i’m in the middle of a conversation with someone and they all of a sudden are sorry because they ‘got lost in my eyes.’ honestly, who says that still? i’ve heard better pick-up lines on the disney channel.”
who do people say you look like?
nicholas hoult. ( too lazy, and too late to make this long and fancy. )
what words describe you? maybe because opposites attract, y'know.
“what words describe me? this is starting to feel like more and more of those failed job applications i’ve filled out throughout the course of my teenage years. i suppose one of the most accurate would be confident. cocky is such an ugly word, and having confidence doesn’t make me sound like very much of a bad guy. besides, since when was it such a crime to like the way you look, act, portray yourself, and dress? never, it was never a felony to have poise and assurance. while i may, quite possibly, be lying through myperfectteeth, i like to think of myself as a very mature young adult. i have lived on my own for three years, and counting, and i reckon that’s more than you, or many people in lyon, can say for himself. i am interested in current affairs, and relatively intelligent, and am responsible with my priorities(most of the time). so, yeah, i think that definitely constitutes as mature, whether you have something to say for it or not. one of the more obvious traits that i possess would probably be my tendency to be undoubtedly, unbelievably unpredictable. one day i may say one thing, and another i may say something completely different— i trust you’re smart enough to figure out which i really mean. i admit, i don’t usually think before i speak or act, so sometimes i even find myself unpredictable as i go through life. for example, the first time i ever charged after going out to the pub— that was unexpectedly flowing out of my mouth as i, unexpectedly, flattened my palm under the money offered. sometimes i curse that day, however i’m proud of my accomplishments, and often refer to the motto ‘regret nothing’, and then just don’t care anymore.
“the following description of my personality can be described in one of three adjectives— honest, rude, or blunt. all would apply equally correctly, depending on how you look at it. i tell people what they need to hear, when it applies to them. i don’t believe in telling people what they want to hear just to make them feel better— it sounds cruel, but it’s rational and completely logical if you think about it. i think beating around the bush is for cowards, so i am often short and two the point, basically where the adjective ‘blunt’ comes into play, however i am always honest. that’s why, if i were approached with someone’s suspicion on my occupation, i wouldn’t be able to deny it if they were correct. i’m pretty sure, like cats and chocolate, i’m allergic to liars. so i suppose that means that i’m pretty trustworthy, but i wouldn’t trust me with any of your secrets— hell, i hate being forced to trust myself with my own secrets. sometimes i can’t control my mouth. and i welcome you to take that however you please. that mental image probably also gives you a very clear idea of how i work. i am a very vulgar person. it’s not so much the swearing, either— more than anything it’s the crude humour, the unstoppable sex, and the rude remarks, etcetera. i have a general rating, and it’s somewhere around NC-17, perhaps hard R. all i can say is parental discretion advised.”
habits can be kind of funny, don't you think?
“it would be a big fat lie to say that i don’t have any habits, good and bad. and while i still like to think that i’m perfect and flawless, the bottom line is that i’m really not. as much as it pains me to admit that. okay, so none of my habits can really be considered ’flaws, and i wouldn’t go so far as calling them imperfections, so i reckon i can still be perfect. regardless, i don’t have any of those silly ones like biting myfingernails, or tapping my feet, or touching my hair— i have the typical clichés of an englishman. i am a considerably tidy person, and really just can’t have it when things are out of their proper places around my apartment. i like my closet colour-coded, which made hiring a maid with the proper skills of doing so quite difficult. call me a basket case, a neat freak, i’m not particularly interested in your opinion of me. besides, you’ll thank me the next time you’ve got a tag sticking out of the back of your shirt and i subconsciously tuck it back in for you. yeah, i can’t help it. i hate it when people’s tags stick out of their shirts— i think it looks tacky. even if i don’t know the person, very well or at all, i will fix it. i don’t even notice i am until i receive very disproving looks from the person i did it to, either. still unable to be considered a flaw, i also tend to change my clothes a lot. i can be very picky, so if i don’t like the thing i’m wearing and i happen to be near the apartment, i will probably come back and change. i am a very religious followed of the phrase ‘dress to impress,’ so one can expect i will always aim to please— or impress.”
what're some of your likes and dislikes?
“what do i like? well, the possibilities are endless. i like sex, i like that a lot— obviously. i like money, understandably. i love coffee and tea, and i like watching the wonderful sport of football. soccer? depends where you’re from, i suppose. i also like the piano, believe it or not. and the sky, too. again, obvious. since i’m sure you’re sick of listening to me ramble on and on, i’ll continue and give the option of finishing the unnecessary paragraph about the things i like. because, really, the things i like do not, in any way, define who i actually am. your judgment based on my affections is probably going to be completely wrong, but i’ll let you figure that out on your own, the hard way. regardless, here goes. among the many things i’ve already mentioned, i have obviously failed to do so with the following: alcohol, cigarettes, parties, dancing, the rain, skittles, polaroids, secrets, privacy, fish, being a tease, ice cream, marshmallows, red bull, the snow, rough sex, peanut butter, reading, strawberries, the eiffel tower at nighttime, the overall night life of lyon, whipped cream, dirty talk, and spending money. in a nutshell, that’s me. present me with any of the previous items, and you may or may not avoid my shit list. no guarantees.
“along with the many things that make me, taylor nicholas rowley, that bundle of joy that everyone has come to know andat least try tolove, there are the also those things that don’t make me very happy. for example, tattle tales— snitches, narks, rats, call it whatever ugly name you please, telling on other people is a bitch move and i don’t appreciate it. off the top of my head, which mean they’re probably the more important of my list, i hate fur and i hate sweets— chocolate, candy, cookies, not a big a fan. and fur is just repulsing, understandably. i’m not really a huge fan of soda, either, however it’s tolerable if liquor or coffee is not an option. again, i’m simply going to resort to listing off my disinterests, because i’m sure you and i are both growing bored about hearing about this kind of bullshit. so let’s see, i suppose i’ll end with the following: i hate it when people tell me what to do, when people lie, or call me ‘cute’(do i look like i want to be cute?), greasy hair, clothes that don’t match, large bodies of water, designer brands, champagne, lotion, the scent of pineapples, spiders and bugs, excess energy, the heat, not being able to sleep, not getting what i want, liars/lying/anyone associated with lies, rejection, and sporting channels. i have a general distaste for the telly all together, really, but it’s not something that’s easily avoidable in the modern world, now is it?”
you've got some weaknesses? you shouldn't tell me, i'll use it against you. you've got strengths, too?
“well, well, well, wouldn’t you like to know my weaknesses? but that’s fine, you wouldn’t be the only one. depends which you’re talking about, though— the kind that make me emotionally weak, or those that make me simply weak at the knees? because a few of the weaknesses pertaining to the latter that i have would be things that you probably don’t need the mental image of. in my line of work, customers come up with the darndest of things, let’s just say. i’ll leave you with that, assuming your imagination will run away with itself. now when it comes to mental weaknesses, i wouldn’t really expect too much from me. i should start to learn to take into account other people’s feelings, though, because a real weakness of mine is simply disregarding how my actions may effect those around me. sometimes i just think the world revolves around me, and to tell with everyone else. is that so wrong? i suppose you can say i’m a pretty competitive person, and the thought of reoccurring loss makes me weak, and just blows my mind. i‘m the type of person that sees something(or, in most cases, someone), wants it, and goes for it; i need to begin thinking more before acting upon impulse. usually i’ll do whatever i have to to succeed, and that’s never always a solid plan. among my many strengths, i need to add quicker common sense and bolder morals to the list pretty quickly, here.
“i have now completely turned you off now, haven’t i? well, nobody likes a boner killer, especially not myself, so it’s time to flip you back on and elaborate on my strengths. i’m an excellent friend, i like to think. as long as you don’t plan on letting me in on any deep, dark secrets, we can have the potential to be friends for a very, very long time. i’m not very good at keeping secrets, hardly even my own, so i wouldn’t suggest trusting me with them. if i like someone enough i would take a bullet for them, i reckon making me somewhat loyal and worthy of being considered a friend. one of my more selfish strengths, and probably one of my more prominent attributes, would be my impeccable ability to manipulate people. i can twist people’s words famously until they work to my advantage, or get me what i want. it hasn’t killed anyone yet, so i am left with no reason to feel guilty about said talent. since i am beginning to sound like a downright boring person, and i am really not, i’m going to leave off with that. for further strengths you can, once more, allow your imagination to take over. let me just say this; i have little to no gag reflex and very high stamina.”
what are the main points of your lifetime?
• “i was born in london, in the united kingdom. you look at me as if you couldn’t tell, or something. my birthday is on the eighteenth of december and i was born twenty years ago. my life was not very interesting until i was about sixteen, to be honest. i attended a boring, old grade school, as well as college. my mother was called rosie, and my father, roger. i’m almost surprised i wasn’t given a name that began with an ‘r’, like my older sister was. when i was born i had an older sister of about a year and a half, and her name was renée— it really only has french roots in it because my mother is half french. anyways, my elder sister died when i was about seven, leaving me all alone with mummy and daddy dearest in our big, ol’ house in little london town. i won’t go into it, but that’s probably one of my biggest weak spots.
• “as i said, i’m from london. explains why i don‘t have one of those fancy french names, eh? when my mom and dad kicked me out of the house when i was sixteen, i moved here to live with some of my buddies that went to a boarding school up in the hills. turned out i got my own job, as i’ve already discussed, and i didn’t really need their tiny dorm and shitty boarding school food anymore.
• “when i was almost eighteen i got out of there and got my own apartment near a college i was attending out in lyon. best decision of my life, let me just say. it’s a lovely little loft that looks out over the city on some nights, depending on the fog or clouds deciding to roll in, with a quaint little roof that really only i use, out of all the residents. i have my own little set up out there and everyone knows not to bother me if i’m there. as i’m sure you’ve guessed, i still live in said little loft, and i reckon that i couldn’t be much happier. some times are a little tougher than others to keep my room clean, if you know what i mean, but i deal. i can usually tell which clients are the particularly sloppy ones.”
the worst point of your life must have sucked, yeah?
“after much contemplation, a few separate pros and cons lists, and much persuasion from the angel on my shoulder(however very influential it is not), i decided that my parents abandoning me was probably my worse memory. it was a close first against the first time i ever had to get surgery from breaking my knee, though, because i know that i’m much better off without them anyways— my parents, not my knees, by the way. and it’s certainly not one of those cases where i see them dying in a car accident as ‘abandonment’, it’s one of those cases where i was literally kicked out of my house for no reason at all when i was nearly seventeen years old. really, i just wish those bastards could see me now. and if they haven’t, they will— because i’m going to make something of myself. anyways, i’m not one to ramble or reminisce about the two wonderful who brought me into this world, so you make of this little paragraph as you wish. some people misinterpret my dislike for bitterness and regret, however i assure you neither are proper descriptions to how i feel. i assure you.”
but i guess the best time made up for it? it always does.
“and i thought my worst memory was hard? well, like i said, getting left on my own could count for good and bad. it was good, because i could make myself a living the way i wanted it, opposed to how they did. perhaps that’s where my extreme dislike for being bossed around comes from— i’ve raised myself to be how i want, without influence from anyone else, that anyone who disobeys my own direction, or tries to throw me off, will get shrugged off. either way, being neither here nor there, i have decided that my very best memory was the first time i ever drove a car. it was the first sign of freedom that i ever got, and it was fantastic. the top was down, the wind was at a decent rate, and, perhaps the best part of it all, the stars were out and very brightly lit. it was fascinating for me to simply park by the lake and sit on the hood of my car to look up at them. surely it is where my fascination with stars today derives from, however i can’t say for positive. perhaps my favourite part about stars is that they’re always going to be there— there might be clouds or fog, or even simply light preventing the naked eye from spotting them, but they are always up there. perhaps it’s just comfortable, but that is, certainly, my greatest memory.”
hi, i'm julie and i think i'm pretty bitchin’. i've been around the block for sixteen years, but the roleplay scene's only been my thing for about four years. i got over to this place through caution!/rosie, so let's give them a shout out. oh, and by the way, i play no one else here too.
just don't forget this,
we won't regret this.
we've got one chance to get it right.
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poking his cheek lightly, felix frowned before laughing softly. “i can’t very well pay my debt if you’re laying down, silly. that would just be…slightly awkward,” felix mused, his words dying more near the end, as if he was just rambling to himself. perking up slightly, he eyed the younger male curiously before tugging his legs up to his chest, hugging them with his free arm. “unless you’re just using hugs as an excuse to cuddle,” he accused him teasingly, his expression remaining serious for about…point five seconds. he broke out into a soft laugh before raising his eyebrows and glancing back down at him. “now put that away, will you?” he said, patting his cheek with his palm playfully, obviously referring to the other’s irresistible, little pout. usually it’s easy to tell with the two of them which one is the elder of two, but sometimes it’s completely the obvious. like, for example, when felix has had too much milk or water. in more ways than one, felix’s personality goes against the norm, but mostly with the fact that neither caffeine nor sweets make him hyper, but, instead, your normal, everyday household beverages like milk and/or water. so, as he sat, rocking slightly and shifting once more to an indian-styled sitting position, it was obvious which kind of day they were going to have. “come on, lazy bum. i’m ready to pay my toll,” he whined, sticking his tongue out at him childishly. the freckles over the bridge of his nose flared up every now and then, and felix was subconsciously grateful of the fact that he wasn’t aware of these times. people often tell him that freckles are ‘cute’, and ‘they wish they had them!’. and do you know felix’s response? yeah? well you can have them! if it wasn’t already painfully obvious, felix hates them. either way, being in his currently immature state, felix resorted to consistently poking parker’s side until he tended to his wishes, a pout of his own settled on his lips. he could at least try to give parker a taste of his own medicine. right?
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