CaliforniaState

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Y2K

Zip Zoop Zeppeli

"Anyway here’s Wonderwall"

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Name: Rocco Zeppeli

Alias: Broccoli (A mash up of his two names)

Namesake: Led Zeppelin

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Birthday: August 5th, 1981

Zodiac: Leo

Chinese Zodiac: Rooster

Appearance: Rocco is a pretty boy, there’s really no way around it. Any possible change he could make in both his style and appearance would just make him seem that more attractive. It isn’t intentional, but his presence draws admirers like a moth to a flame which certainly has boosted his ego somewhat, but not enough to make him an ass. Rocco isn’t particularly too tall either, his build is quite modest in all seriousness. He stands at a nice 6 foot 1 inches and weighs around a buck sixty soaking wet. Despite being an art fanatic, he has a similar physique to that of a swimmer or even a gymnast, perhaps its because he sees himself as a canvas or a work of art. And to that point he ensures all his artwork is perfect so that lends itself to his appearance both physically and stylistically. His eyes are a plum purple color hidden behind his square glasses and strips of loose blonde hair. Speaking of which his hair is generally messy but in a way that looks purposefully styled which suits his otherwise clean and aesthetic attire. Besides that, his skin is rather fair not treading on the side of too white that you risk burning in the sun within seconds of tanning thankfully to his Italian heritage.

Personality: Rocco is the definition of carefree, there is almost nothing that will ever get under his skin. Many in the past have tried to test and jostle his patience only to fail and thus further their own rage. Rocco has one simple belief and that is obtaining emotional zen no matter what, like that of the teachings of Siddhārtha Gautama. With this unshakable belief he knows there’s more to life than giving meaningless infuriation’s to things outside of his own control. This proves invaluable in some facets in life, but not all of them. With this sense of serene divination, he can tackle overwhelming situations calmly and collectedly where others could not and read things with a degree of unbiased opinion.

This is mimicked in his artwork which is also mimicked to his personality as if they mirrored each other or were direct parallels. He’s careful with his art, focusing on both the big picture and the little striations and marks to achieve that goal. He pays close attention and applies the utmost care and precision to any and all his art pieces even if they’re quick doodles. He wants to breathe life into art just as he breathes life into himself every day.

It does come with its cons however, he can seem quite detached to everyone and everything which can further antagonize people. Some say he drifts off into his own world and shuts out everyone else when he’s attempting to reach nirvana. Others might call it a phase since he’s just a senior of high school, so his traits are discounted by a lot of people. This does manifest as not taking his opponents very seriously which generally causes him to misstep and underestimate his enemy which costs him sometimes, but other times excites him more. While he does manage to not appear to have any weaknesses or triggers there is one thing that does set him off. Fake art snobs who critique his work or bash it to seem more popular and enlightened than he. This often sets him off into a tirade of anger that overflows like a storm with no end in sight.

Short Biography: There’s not much to Rocco’s history that you can’t emulate from dozens of other first-generation students. Both his parents were Italian born and raised natives who only emigrated from Italy to the United States to seek better opportunities for their son like any other parent would. Except this wasn’t the only cause, but the one they chose to use as the main reason. This was because Rocco ever since a child due to his behavior always ended up on the outside of the crowd in school, this seclusion always garnered ill looks from other parents and students alike. It only got worse as he grew up since physical abuse was learned by the bullies that grew along side him. At first it was under control since Rocco never spoke of it nor fought back, but after awhile his drawings would be sent to his parents by teachers that depicted Rocco with an imaginary friend that would periodically grow in size and become more protective of Rocco until the images started to turn violent. It was more of a precursory advisement from the teachers to his parents, but they could never believe their son would take action and they were right, technically he didn’t.

And so, time went on like sand in the hourglass and the bullies became more tenacious in their abuse, only to be encouraged by their so-called parents. It wasn’t until one day one of the bullies made fun of his art and his imaginary friend that Rocco finally gave into his primal instincts and Wonderwall was born free from his paper prison. His imaginary friend made short work of the bullies and to any spectators all they could see was some invisible force knocking kids away. With the press and police hot on their heels the Zeppeli’s could no longer stay in their local home. They became nomadic in a sense where they migrated up the Italian peninsula into the rest of the European Union, desperately looking for somewhere to settle down. However, like a black cloud looming over their heads it seemed trouble was always around the corner ready to rear its ugly head. It was always the same, Rocco would enroll into a school, things would go well for a time, his personality was harbored throughout his school, bullies attempted to take advantage of him, bullies were met with hospital beds, expulsion, moving once more.

At wits end, the couple decided to move across an entire continent and the vast sea to settle into a different country with no connection to theirs. They settled down like most immigrant parents in the lovely city of New York where they enrolled Rocco into Linden High School. Scared of what kind of adversity they might have met they encouraged Rocco’s artistic and spiritualistic expression allowing him to join any and all clubs or associations that would allow him to exhibit his freedom of expression without fear of abuse. After four years the black cloud seemingly had faded away and Rocco was a healthy Senior boy that had a new girlfriend everyday and a good standing at his High School. Unfortunately for them Y2K aka the year of the apocalypse was hot on their heels and who knows what it had in store for the young brimming youth that was known as Rocco Zeppli.

Quirk: Rocco's only quirk is that when he's bored of his art books he often scribbles and tattoos his body with varying pieces with permanent marker and the sorts.

Other: Can't eat pasta without meat sauce.

Shelter

Location: Teacher's Lounge -- Group Discussion

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The heat was lifted from his skin having heard that one of the students thought his suggestion was a good idea. It was nice to be heard for once, but not just be heard but to be seen and known that you were right instead of holding it in and regretting it down the line. Although his suggestion was helpful the materials he carried in bag were not. After all what does a bug loving art kid bring to the table besides weird facts and a pair of tweezers most would just use to pluck their unruly hairs with? Nothing or well that’s what he thought at least. Emotions were obviously very high and the number of hormones and urge for both power and safety made it inevitable that personalities would clash, and ideas would turn to competition on who was the most correct. So, with the materials he had at hand he took a different approach, he did what he knew best, and he drew.

There was a purpose to his drawing, it’s not like he was drawing nothing or just another insect. Rather he was being to sketch early blueprints of the school from memory. He couldn’t count how many times he traversed the school halls, how many twists and turns you had to take to reach your class across campus in under five minutes before the bell rang. The numerous levels and empty rooms that laid idle after everyone was gone and it was just the after-school programs. And so, as people argued and offered advice whether it was helpful or not, he constantly closed his eyes and squinted trying to remember every last detail that could possibly help aid in their escape. Eventually the black lines along the white canvas sprung to life and illustrated the architecture of the school or at least in the best imitation a senior high schooler could provide. Despite everything he could recall from the years he’s been there he knew he had to ask around for help.

The athletic kids definitely would have more intimate knowledge of the track and field or the locker rooms he never set foot in. The only issue was slipping back into the lime light and commanding their attention once more. His realization soon began to trigger his social anxiety knowing his social battery had just recharged only to be depleted once more. Not having taken notice of the new arrivals he saw several more familiar and unfamiliar faces enter the fray, there was strength in numbers, right? Right? Who knows, maybe that was just made up dialogue saved for only horror movies with the same setting just as this. One of the students wondered if they were injured beyond psychologically and that made him chuckle. Another spoke in the same facet of Maslow’s hierarchical needs in regards to needing food, water and shelter only with the caveat of needing weapons structured from basic school supplies.

It was ironically nice to see the comradery between strangers in the hallways come together and synergize for a means to escape. That girl Elliot was confident, knowledgeable, and a leader; all things he was not but admired in this sort of scenario and she was funny too which always helped. Mounting enough courage to speak again he rehearsed over and over in his head ensuring he wouldn’t fuck up and look like an idiot, but he needed a Segway into the conversation. God or whichever deity you believed in must have heard his prayers as Bill pressed pause on the pandemonium and backtracked to something much simpler, names. A perfect way to interject, of course after Fitz had gone and introduced herself it was only natural for him to go next.

Clearing his throat, he spoke once more both clearly and concisely, “My name is Alexander, but you can call me Xan for short.” Knowing full well there was another Alexander in their ranks and he always asked his teachers to call him Xan anyways.

“And I uh kind of have been drawing the layout of the whole school. After we find some weapons maybe we can escape onto the roof or underground. If there’s anything I left out, you can see for yourselves and I’ll draw it in” his heart was beating a mile a minute more so now than when he saw the living dead feasting in the halls. Hopefully they would heed his plan of action.

Steel Ball Run | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

_Mention: 「 [@Everyone] 」

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The blonde boy was knocked out cold and unlike the other two that had gotten into some dangerous skirmish, this one wasn’t his doing. Even Jules attempt to wake him and impart some sage advice on him was wasted. Joseppi pressed two fingers against the artery in his neck to see if he was still alive at least. Blood was still pumping, hot air was still exhaling from his nose and mouth, and his faculties were still in order. Joseppi knew this precarious position all too well, well on the off chance that he did manage to drink enough to get drunk. This son of a bitch would have one mean hangover by the time he woke up and it was up to JoJo to make sure he could live through it. This wasn’t some altruistic vein that was part of Joseppi’s true character, but instead insurance to allow Joseppi the opportunity to reclaim his wanted poster and put the fear of god into this scoundrel, making it known that Jules was his bounty and his alone to claim.

And with that Joseppi much like a caring mother or a sociopathic doctor (whichever you decided) he tossed Donny around like a ragdoll visually, however his touch and use of air made his maneuvers delicate and gentle. First his arms draped around his neck for support as Joseppi lifted him from his chair in a traditional bridal carry. Making his way to the exit he suddenly realized that once he left there would be no one in charge of running the bar since he was on his way and he sent the original owner on his way home for the day. With a neck turn so fast the sound of a whip cracking could be heard cutting through the air he glared at every last degenerate in the room (including the only mirror reflecting himself) and warned them if anyone even so much as entertained the idea of stealing a bottle without paying he would know and as soon as they tried he would be back to crush them into ash.

With his tab paid out and his loose ends cut he was finally able to continue on with the race. Joseppi mounted Donny on his horse before he inevitably slouched over. Unhitching his reigns, he tied them to the back of his own saddle to ensure Donny didn’t get lost, it wouldn’t be too long now before the start of the next leg of the race. Hopefully by that time Donny would be awake otherwise Joseppi would have to force him awake and like the other two before him, no one would want that.

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The sun was beating down him like a magnifying glass was being pressed over him as if he were some ant waiting to be burnt to a crisp. Luckily, he had his marshals’ hat that blocked out most of the sun and then there was his goggles that fit snuggly on his face to prohibit any sand or other flying debris to catch in his eyes. He removed as much clothing as he could without crossing boundaries which left him with nothing but his button up on with the top two buttons unattached exposing his muscular pectoral muscles and the start of some chest chair. He kept his gun holsters attached to his belt along with his lasso in toe. His slacks stayed on as best they could only be slightly rolled up above the ankle. And lastly his boots with the spurs still spinning with the occasionally dry breeze that made the dessert all the more intense and unsatisfying to be in. It would be too soon for him to be back in the heart of NYC with a cool glass of water by his night stand, the mid-west was no good for him.

In between the occasional sweat wipe and lap of water from his canteen, Joseppi would forage into his bag and trace his finger along the direction of where his map was taking them. It would be a few more days before they found themselves out of the dessert and taking the shortcut, he suggested they had more than enough time on the other races to place in the top five once more. For now, though, they set up camp as requested by the unruly blonde in the back who just about complained about every god damn thing. The sun was either making him go mad or maybe it was just the numerous amounts of mirages he kept seeing off in the distance produced by the sun and his dehydration. Either way as much as she complained they all deserved reprieve from the sun.

The sun finally rested on a darkening evening allowing the temperatures to drop well below the average, the exasperated change between night and day was almost inconceivable. Regardless he would have taken cold over heat any day of the week, at least with the cold they could cuddle for warmth…. Joseppi retrieved from his own supply a large black pot to which he threw onto the fireplace and began chopping up vegetables to toss into the pot to start a stew going. If surviving in New York with every kind of immigrant taught him anything, it was how to cook with the bare minimum. Chopping and seasoning he looked around to the quiet crowd, wanting to break the air of uncomfortable silence. “I’m not the only one who’s been following this here girl. I saw someone else at the start of the race who had her in her sights.”

Saisei: The Crimson Dawn

Location: Somewhere between the training grounds and academy

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The look on his face was very telling, either Enma didn’t stand out to him as much as he thought he did during the academy or Kiku was just more focused on bosoms and buttocks to focus on anything that lacked those two things. Perhaps his sister was the polar opposite to him otherwise he couldn’t possibly fathom how his brother would have married into that family. Those ideations were negative, and assumptions of character based on preconceived notions. So instead, Enma pushed them out from the back of his mind to make room for a fresh first impression. It wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t crossed paths until now, but if this were the first time it was just as good as any.

Enma laughed bashfully, “Yeah well it’s okay I’m sure my brother doesn’t speak to highly of me or me at all now that I think about it.” The shift in his personality was quite uplifting if he did say so himself, he appreciated Kiku’s efforts to correct his behavior prior to this whole spectacle. “Don’t worry, we’ll have all the time in the world to pay attention from here on out.” He wanted to end his sentence with calling Kiku his brother, yet the words couldn’t find their way out of his mouth. They had just met, and he didn’t want to scare kiku off so suddenly with the utterance of such intimate words when they had only just started to mince their own.

The skin on his cheeks lifted, hoisting his lips into a wide grin in response to Kiku’s talk of bonds, “Yeah you’re right! We’ll absolutely have the better bond and synergy than the rest of these teams. We can only go up from here.” The young boy quickly followed behind hoping to catch up to Ria before it was too late, who knows, she could have already been knocked unconscious by their sensei already. After a few moments the band of brothers had finally managed to catch up to Ria before their sensei had arrived. “You know what they say, before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves” Enma said resting his hand on Ria’s exposed shoulder. “Just show her you’re better than that, kay?” he was with a warm decisive smile.

New York, 1999 | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

herro

A Star Wars SAGA Proposal

Turtle

Saisei: The Crimson Dawn

Location: Somewhere between the training grounds and academy

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The pain surged through his body like a series of lightning bolts, had their sensei really intended to use that much force on just one of these pipsqueaks. Sucking in the pain like his siblings taught him to, he chose to ignore it and put on a stalwart face for Ria. Although he did make it a point to repay his master given the chance to in their upcoming sessions. Looking down he met Ria’s gaze, her emotions slipping out more than he could keep up with. There were tears in her eyes masqueraded by a smile signaling she appreciated what he had done for her. Thanks, would have been enough for Enma, but Ria seemed greedy for more as she treaded closer to his face. Heat manifested itself in his cheeks and forehead causing sweat to draw out from his once pale, now rosy red skin.

Unsure what to do next never having been in such a precarious possession, Enma just nervously chuckled batting his eyes from left to right hoping he would be rescued instead. Ria finally emerged from her pensive though giving only a slight nod before shouting viciously in his face, getting droplets of saliva all over his face. The moody Uchiha vanished off in the distance hoping to cast her revenge on their sensei. With a flutter of relief Enma’s body collectively slouched once he let out a drawn-out sigh. Wiping the sweat from his forehead he smiled and looked at the sun, noting that there was still much time left in the day. Enma turned to his side at the use of his clan name, he had almost forgot Inokikue was watching silently in the back. “Pardon me, but we’ve actually met before. You might not remember me, but my brother is marrying your sister, so we’re step brothers.”

However, their conversation was cut short since he sprinted past him just as he was turning to face Kiku. It couldn’t be helped so it seemed, like the other two Enma took off into the direction of the training grounds. Tapping Kiku on the shoulder this time he pressed, “So what do we do now since we’re brothers?”

Steel Ball Run | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

_Mention: 「 @Lord Orgasmo @Ambra 」

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Having been genetically gifted with a stand warranted a few things. One of which was nearly complete mastery of his stand up until this point from receiving it at an early age. This lent itself to many real-world applications most other stand users wouldn’t have thought of. Now when Jules first got up to follow him to the bathroom, he could sense there was something wrong going on inside her. His eyes narrowed in almost slit like fashion once he began to see the air entering and exiting her lungs were being interrupted. She had definitely broken some ribs and sustained some heavier damage from whatever scuffle happened outside. Of course, Airbag knew what had happened and who the culprit was, but it was better of her not to say or mention it to Joseppi. The two had a connection so close that words need not be spoken in order for them to communicate.

Accepting his offer the two moseyed on over to the powder room, once out of sight, almost instantly airbag appeared detached from Joseppi. The two exchanged glances before he nodded his head in approval to her next actions. Encroaching behind Jules, Airbag stood silent in order to not be noticed. She lingered behind her as if she were Jules’ shadow, undetectable. Her silver almost metallic hands stretched out slowly reaching for what one might guess was her neck. Was she going to choke her? Was this the end for Jules before it could even really begin? Her open palms stopped just short of entering Jules’ view and instead air erupted from her palms and began pumping inside of Jules’ mouth. In other words, Airbag was creating an air tank for Jules to correct her breathing and remove agitation she was putting on her lungs by straining herself to breathe. She would feel relief almost instantly, but with no knowledge as to why it was happening.

Despite his appearance and the way, he carried himself, Joseppi was actually quite the softy and anyone he valued as more than an acquaintance obviously meant he had a duty to. There was no doubt she was scared of him and having picked up on her little discreet warning sign to Donny on her way out only confirmed it. He reached inside of his vest ready to pull out the flower from before he was ready to give her, but upon entering the lady’s washroom he quickly tucked it away having been greeted by Annie. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure? I wasn’t expecting to have a Ménage à trois so early into this race”
he said feeling the tension constricting Jules ease up a bit seeing she wasn’t alone.

Shelter

Location: Teacher's Lounge -- Group Discussion

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par·a·site | an organism living in, with, or on another organism in parasitism.

This was the only word that stuck out in the echoes of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had seen or heard of such a phenomenon occurring, especially not in the insect kingdom. Parasites were rampant in not just insects but all creatures ranging in size and species. Maybe it was just god’s way…no…maybe it was just the universes way of keeping the balance of the world, ensuring that entropy was keeping order. Now there were several kinds of parasites, ones like horsehair worms that lived in grasshoppers or praying mantis’ or the infamous zombie parasite. One in which spores released from a fungus end up attaching themselves to ants, penetrative the exoskeleton and effectively mind controlling the ant. A process that forces the ant to wait for its death while the fungus takes over. Yeah that was more plausible and closer to what was happening now.

Having survived all of high school, it was Xan’s last year as not just a student at Stockbridge High, but as a senior too. No doubt the gravity of selecting a university and sealing his fate for another four years was looming over him with what only felt like a few months of release during the summer. SAT and ACT prep was being shoveled down his throat; not to mention the impending prom event his parents were forcing him to go to. Who would he even ask? It’s not like he was Varsity team captain of any team or Homecoming king. Thankfully though, all that took a back seat when news started to pour in by the masses of people falling violently ill. At first Xan thought nothing more of it than a one-off coincidence just like when Florida man was high on bath salts and ate that other guys face off. It wasn’t until stories started to mirror each other so perfectly that he himself began to buy into the hype.

First the fire alarms went out, then the PA system started spewing telegraphed safety messages, preemptively prepared by the superintendent in attempts to keep students calm. Definitely accomplished the opposite when chaos erupted in the halls and the school was put on lockdown. Xan was kind of lost looking off into space trying to grasp the situation. Never had he been in such a precarious position as the one he was facing right now, hell he had been home schooled for more than half of his lie. The most he had to worry about was not burning his grilled cheese while raiding in World of Warcraft. Luckily for him he was sucked back into the real world when some student nearly took him out running from what sounded like one pissed off zombie. Activating his flight or fight response he chose the former looking around for any and all escape routes. His eyes found no exit, instead perhaps something better in the form of Rosemary Fitzgerald.

She seemed cold and calculating enough to know what’s what. That coupled with her being on the softball team meant she knew how to use a blunt force weapon despite being vertically challenged. Rubber screeched against the floor after Xan floored it to the teachers’ lounge behind Rosemary. He was one of twelve kids who made it inside before they decided to board all the exits and entrances heavily. Taking deep breathes he looked around recognizing almost all their faces, just not their names. Rosemary’s suggestion of a plan was brilliant in that it began to unite the twelve in the room together with hopes of surviving in the allotted time they had left. Someone mentioned a car while Kaylee asked if anyone knew what was going on. Elvina on the other hand vocally displayed her dislike of that idea. Sheepishly, Xan raised his hand in attempts to catch someone’s attention. “I…uhh..I’m not sure if this counts, but I think I know what’s going on. Or at least I’ve seen it happen before just not in humans…” he knew just how futile his efforts were and how stupid he must have sounded. “Anyways maybe we should see what everyone has on them that we can use to get out of here.” Whatever they decided, Xan just wanted to survive.

Shelter

Alexander “Xan” Abbot

_{Age 18 - Scorpio - Senior - 6’0 - Alex Wolff}

“I’d like to think I try my best not to step on ants.”

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Appearance Details

Neatly messy would be the best oxymoron to describe Xan. In an oddly satisfying way, his natural dark curls bend and coil in all directions with a distinct volume. His features are dark and thick from the amount of hair on his eyebrows to his lined-up beard. A single mole is one of two distinct facial features, the other being his malformed nose from an incident that he never really recovered from. Xan isn’t particularly physically inclined, so his slim body paired with his height make for an almost lanky appearance. His style stays within the realm of monochromatic colors mixed with a modern touch of fashion often branching off into a semi business casual.

Characterization

Having been home schooled for nearly all his life has rather stumped Xan’s social growth. Xan has your standard introvert load out mixed with a homebody. Xan never did guess why his parents decided to teach him from home rather than a public school. Maybe it was the crime rate moving on the up and up or perhaps it was just because the hustle and bustle of the streets of New York City would be too much for him. Regardless of whatever their reasons were, he never complained nor wanted to change what wasn’t broken. His parents never kept him from exploring his options or interests, instead the opposite, supportive and investing all their morale in boosting their sons.

This later manifested in two hobbies that went hand in hand. One was his love and fascination with insects, which led to his passion for Entomology otherwise known as the study of insects. Not only was he fascinated by them, but he collected them by the barrel, well figuratively speaking. Whether it was live insects to keep as pets or dead ones he preserved and labeled with the proper species and genus, Xan found his true calling. This worked in tandem with his second hobby which was drawing. How exactly was drawing and insects connected? Well, he drew all the insects he discovered and cataloged them in a sort of bestiary if you will, but for insects contrary to mythical creatures. His art was mostly focused in charcoals and fine ink accompanied with cursive writing to capture all the information needed to know in case he was ever stuck in the wild.

His hobbies only strengthened his curiosity and willingness to learn, always questioning people and things until he got answers that made sense to him. While he didn’t like to interact per say, knowing the answer took precedence in his mind thus pushing him out of his comfort zone from time to time. This could come off as annoying to some since people don’t like to be challenged or refuted, but Xan has no ill intent. It wasn’t until recently that Xan wanted to expand his understanding of the world outside the walls of his house and the insect exhibitions in the Museum of Natural History.

And so halfway through his high school career his parents decided to move to Michigan as only the most prestigious of schools would suffice for their sons natural learning talents. With that, Xan found himself as the new kid at Stockbridge academy, where we mostly kept to himself and his studies while learning how to conform to social norms. Being the new kid usually lent itself to having a free pass into the social hierarchy for any high school, but sadly it was passed up by Xan as he didn’t know how to completely capitalize on it. So, he suffered from the condition where you’re popular but not popular enough to really mesh in any group to the point you could call people your friends.

So, for now, Xan prefers to keep his head down and spend his time in the art club where he feels less constrained by the weary eyes around him. Who knows, maybe if he survives High School then College could be different for him.

Inventory

- Uni Pen 200
- Insect Diary
- Feather forceps
- Magnifying hand lens

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