mickilennial

Fogtide [Invite Only]

fuck italics

Justice League Unlimited - The only way is JUSTICE

I'll give it a shot.

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

Yeah, and now I'm written out of the build up. Sucks, but I'll deal.

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

By the way and to just check-in: @mickilennial @Martian Are you guys still with us? I know it has only been 5 days since the RP officially started, but there's been a lot of posting in that span of time and I don't want people feeling overwhelmed/left out here.

@Vanny

There is a lot of posts to read in a short time. I'm intending to post but between Baldur's Gate and having to read three new posts every time I come back in here its rough.

Fogtide [Invite Only]

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

Y'all posted so much already, god damn. I'll try to get one up tonight or tomorrow.

Shelter: A Zombie Survival Story

I think if you just wanna do within reason just run it by me. Might be more cohesive than me having to mention it in a seperate post.

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

D A V E
D A V E

^{37 ■ Male ■ Singer. Songwriter. Television Personality. Sometimes Actor.}

A P P E A R A N C E
A P P E A R A N C E

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At five-foot-eight and with access to a personal trainer, Dave has done everything to maximize his appearance for the good of his career. The last few years have taken a turn of sorts, with him seeming to stop caring about his carefully crafted image, but he hasn’t let himself go either. A blue-eyed brunette who to some is the biggest thing in country and pop music since Garth and Kenny isn’t a bad look to have for sure.

P E R S O N A L I T Y
P E R S O N A L I T Y

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“All depends on what side of bed Dave woke up on today.” a friend once remarked in relation to this very issue.

Dave is temperamental, moody. Sometimes described as high maintenance–the kind of pop star that makes people blast them on social media for having problems respecting the people who got him to where he is. His defenders will probably say anyone with a bad experience asked for it or caught him on a bad day. Perhaps both sides have some nuggets of truth at the baseline.

Ultimately, Dave’s been unhappy for a long time. Most of his success came when he moved away from his earnest songwriting and to blase, empty-headed pop music. Pair that with a generational addiction to addictive substances (particularly of the Jim Beam variety) and a very internal war between self and demons you have a hotbed of a temperamental, self-entitled, unfulfilled, and lonely man. Even he admits he needs to get back to the person he was, and not the person he’s been constructed to be by the big labels and important Hollywood producers. How can he live up to be a role model for anybody if he feels nothing and has nothing? It’s a question he ponders nightly and at the bottom of a bottle.

B I O G R A P H Y
B I O G R A P H Y

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David Earl MacKeown had a rough childhood in a town just north of Oklahoma City.

When he finally got free, he pushed himself to Nashville, hustling and hoping that one day his dream of hitting the lights of the big stage would become real.

Perhaps it happened a little faster than he could handle. Before the age of 25 he had multiple hits and attention from a big, proper music label. It would be that label that took him to greater heights for a decade plus, though it would come with its own costs. His songwriting took a backseat to a team of writers, his musicality became what he found banal–all while he struggled with addiction, relationship hurdles, and spending his time between Nashville and Hollywood. In his thirties, with strings of top ten smash hits for years and a popular stint as a judge on a singing competition, the midlife crisis finally came for him and probably a bit more violently than it came for others.

His son’s death. The subsequent divorce. A few things. A social media episode. The label deciding not to renew his contract; all of it came as it did and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some R&R and rethink what his life meant and how he could pick up the pieces moving forward. The world sees him as some sort of diva, a trainwreck to encourage, a sellout, a star. Not often that the world sees him for what he’s going through. But touring independently has given him something to think about.

Perhaps he should’ve picked a different vacation spot.

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

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Dialogue Color: dodgerblue

That 70s Show (70s themed role play)

How big of the friends group are you looking at? I've got some obligations but I can't resist period pieces.

Heiseina: Memories Long Forgotten

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“This is a report to the elder, be sure they recieve it, Fujiwara.”

Anayo was a peculiar woman. In the years since she was allowed to learn under her and the peculiarities that came with her line of work, Chiasa wasn’t sure what she had actually learned.

In fact, she was pretty sure she had been a gofer more than a machinist or tinkerer or whatever word-of-the-week their line of work was called. “Fujiwara go here and do this. Go here and do that.” – it was a revolving door of things, but when it came the time her mentor and herself got to journey outward into a reflection of the past it made it all worth it. However, today was not one of those days.

“Is it important?” She asked, with a flat monotone.

“Everything I do is important.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“It is. And you’re not to read it.” The tinkerer turned from her desk with a glare that cut through Chiasa’s blank expression, “Or else.”

Chiasa nodded, softly, with a sigh, as her mentor turned away from her and resumed her tasks at her desk.

“And get dressed. I’m not getting yelled at again for you missing another festival or whatever. And you’ll be working the stall later. Those morons love the most useless things I find, I swear.”

“If I have to.” She remarked, calmly rebelling against the suggestion, though she knew what it would lead to if she rejected the notion, “I have to, don’t I?”

“You do. Now go. Shoo.”

And so Chiasa left the room. There wasn’t much she could do in her situation and as crass and blunt as her teacher may have been, it was a lot better than returning to the Fujiwara Estate to be ordered around to look for a husband. At least with Anayo she was free to work for her passion and do things she was actually happy to do. Not that she showed much of that happiness.

Maybe one day someone would get her to smile and in a way that didn’t cause someone to think she was going to kill them. Expressions were difficult, but honestly there weren’t any people that brought warmth in her heart to cause her to need to smile. She found some of the men in the village contentable, sure, and there were also a few women she found as tolerable to be around, but nothing in either sex that made her fantasize about them being her partner for life. Maybe one day. But not any day soon. Still, she needed to look proper for the village, her clan, and her mentor. Apparently. When was the last time she dressed up? She couldn’t fathom an answer in her head and did not quite want to.

She abhorred formalities, after all.

At least the trip to see the Elder would not take too long. She doubted she would run into any distractions on the way...

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