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ELLIE CARA MCLOUGHLIN
{{ General }}
Name: Eleanor (Ellie) McLoughlin
Middle Name: Cara
Nickname(s): Ellie, El, Ella, Elsie
Gender: Female.
Pronouns: She/Her.
Age: 25.
Date Of Birth: July 23rd.
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. (Female lean)
Position: Submissive/Bottom.
Hair Colour: Light brown. Long, wavy.
Eye Colour: Piercing blue.
Tattoos: One lotus flower on her sternum.
Piercings: Double lobes, a few on the cartilage of her left ear.
Height: 5'5.
Occupation: Police officer, writer.
Wealth: Comfortable.
{{ Family }}
Parents:
Aisling McLoughlin – Good relationship. They speak every other day over the phone or on facetime, though Ellie thinks the distance was the best thing that happened to them. Growing up, her mother was strict, leaving Ellie quite ignorant and blinded from the world around her. Her eyes were force to open up to reality when she joined the police force at age 19.
Stephen McLoughlin – Good relationship. Stephen was much softer than Aisling growing up. He tended to let things slide, letting Ellie get away with the small stuff like staying out a little later than usual. He was her biggest supporter when she decided to join the police force, but he always thought she was going to make it much bigger as a writer and eventually quit the job he knew she wasn't overly fond of (though she would argue and say she loves it). He passed away when she turned 23.
Siblings:
None.
Born: Dublin, Ireland.
Currently: United States. (Wherever necessary for the plot.)
{{ Personality }}
Skills: Writing, cooking, anything fitness.
Likes:
Astrology.
Running.
Hiking.
Take-out after a night out.
People whose eyes crinkle when they smile.
Perfume.
Chocolate.
Being occupied/busy..
Black coffee.
Dislikes:
Eggs.
People who talk sh*t.
Arrogance.
Waking up.
Plane rides.
Phone calls.
Strengths:
Confident.
Independent.
Honest.
Intelligent.
Motivated.
Empathetic.
Weaknesses:
Timid.
Naïve.
Emotional.
Has a habit of saying the wrong thing.
Prideful.
Workaholic.
{{ Health }}
Overall: In good health.
Fitness level: High.
Drugs: Recreationally.
Smoking: No.
Drinking: Yes.
tbc.
Name: Eleanor (Ellie) McLoughlin
Middle Name: Cara
Nickname(s): Ellie, El, Ella, Elsie
Gender: Female.
Pronouns: She/Her.
Age: 25.
Date Of Birth: July 23rd.
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. (Female lean)
Position: Submissive/Bottom.
Hair Colour: Light brown. Long, wavy.
Eye Colour: Piercing blue.
Tattoos: One lotus flower on her sternum.
Piercings: Double lobes, a few on the cartilage of her left ear.
Height: 5'5.
Occupation: Police officer, writer.
Wealth: Comfortable.
{{ Family }}
Parents:
Aisling McLoughlin – Good relationship. They speak every other day over the phone or on facetime, though Ellie thinks the distance was the best thing that happened to them. Growing up, her mother was strict, leaving Ellie quite ignorant and blinded from the world around her. Her eyes were force to open up to reality when she joined the police force at age 19.
Stephen McLoughlin – Good relationship. Stephen was much softer than Aisling growing up. He tended to let things slide, letting Ellie get away with the small stuff like staying out a little later than usual. He was her biggest supporter when she decided to join the police force, but he always thought she was going to make it much bigger as a writer and eventually quit the job he knew she wasn't overly fond of (though she would argue and say she loves it). He passed away when she turned 23.
Siblings:
None.
Born: Dublin, Ireland.
Currently: United States. (Wherever necessary for the plot.)
{{ Personality }}
Skills: Writing, cooking, anything fitness.
Likes:
Astrology.
Running.
Hiking.
Take-out after a night out.
People whose eyes crinkle when they smile.
Perfume.
Chocolate.
Being occupied/busy..
Black coffee.
Dislikes:
Eggs.
People who talk sh*t.
Arrogance.
Waking up.
Plane rides.
Phone calls.
Strengths:
Confident.
Independent.
Honest.
Intelligent.
Motivated.
Empathetic.
Weaknesses:
Timid.
Naïve.
Emotional.
Has a habit of saying the wrong thing.
Prideful.
Workaholic.
{{ Health }}
Overall: In good health.
Fitness level: High.
Drugs: Recreationally.
Smoking: No.
Drinking: Yes.
tbc.
PROMPTS
These are super broad, feel totally free to suggest something completely different. These are just prompts I wrote and put here to help strike inspiration for anyone who's plotting with me! :) They all involve romance, as I find it difficult to role-play without a bit of romance, but it doesn't have to be the main focus of the plot if it's not your thing!
Some of these may be slightly triggering for some, we can plot something between ourselves if so.
1.
You don't know how you got here. You've been strait-laced all your life, for f*** sake! Everything was laid out for you, everything you ever craved. Success, money, hope. Then you met her.. Those eyes, those lips. F***, those eyes. They sucked you in, a whirlpool of emotion and passion until you drowned in her vivid ocean.
She led you here. A destructive, explosion of a human, yes, but wrapped up in all the adrenaline you had ever needed. She had quickly seeped her way into your lungs, making it almost burdensome to breathe.
But now, here she was, staring down the barrel of a gun that you held in your own clammy hands, tears forming a concrete path on her cheeks while a menacing shadow of a burly man cascaded over you; shouting something. Something about money and payback, urging you to pull that god damn f***ing trigger.
2.
Trembling as the bitter Winter air shot daggers down your spine, you find yourself at her doorstep. It's been about 5 years since she told you to go f*** yourself. It's been about 6 since you slept with her boyfriend.
Everything is spinning. It feels like the ground is scrambling to catch up to your feet as you watch the door open, just a crack. Somehow, the crack morphs into a gaping black hole in your mind. What the hell was in your drink?
This isn't your neighbourhood. In fact, you don't even recall how to get home. Your thoughts have melted into a puddle of gloop; you're standing by the skin of your teeth. All that you know is that some frat boy has been following you since you asked him to hold your drink, and your childhood best friend is standing behind that door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice is sharp and unimpressed, laced with a bitter undertone, but your vision goes black before your tongue can muster up an answer, and suddenly; she's caught you before your body hit the ground.
3.
You're standing there, forcing the breathing techniques that your therapist told you to use for situations like this, but it doesn't God damn work. Your therapist has clearly never been in a band.
This should be the happiest day of your life, right? You've finally f***ing made it, you're about to play your first sold out show in New York City. Yet, your drummer is nowhere to be found.
The adrenaline coursing through you makes your heartbeat pulse in your ears. A couple minutes late to rehearsals every now and then wasn't a warning sign for this, was it? You're pretty sure if she doesn't show up soon, the whole show will be cancelled. Thousands of people, leaving your gig.
It's your name. You're the one who's going to be on the headlines tomorrow. You're the one who'll get the reams and reams of hate tweets.
The crowd are already vexed. You can hear the bellows and the collective frustration from the wings, ricocheting off every wall in the arena. All because of that f***ing drummer.
4.
You've never really liked kids. Well, you're just not all that good with them. How do people babble on and on with a toddler who can't tell their fingers from their toes? How can anyone hold a conversation with a snot-faced child who can't even read yet? It has never made sense to you, yet somehow you've found yourself here: working part-time in a nursery, and not a single person has died yet.
Actually, you're rather proud of yourself, if you're honest. You're doing so damn good that one of the kids actually /laughed/ at one of your dumb jokes the other day. In fact, the kids aren't even proving to be much of a problem. Despite a few scraped knees and harrowing tantrums, it's the parents that you find hardest to deal with. Today is no exception. Your boss has requested you stay back and chat to a furious parent, apparently asking to speak specifically to you. God knows why, but you need to get this over with if you want to get home any time in the near future.
The last thing you're expecting to work through the door is her. Red faced and fuming so intensely you're surprised she's not producing steam from her ears. She's younger than most of the parents that drop their kids off here, about your age, and, well.. She's hot.
5.
Growing up, you two were never compatible. Everything she said made your skin crawl. How could someone be so ignorant? A travesty and your entire opposite? Yet somehow, you happen to share the same passion as someone you believe to be the worst thing that crawls through the hall of your college.
You despise her, truly, you do. But you're a dancer in a small town, your options are certainly limited when it comes to who you can choreograph and explore with, and somehow dancing with her feels like.. home. From years of working together, you understand each tiny detail of each others bodies, linking together perfectly as you move in unison, safe with each other. Maybe the mere though of her makes you shudder outside of your little dance studio, but together?
You're barefoot and bruised, and she is the only one you trust to catch you when you're blindly leaping through the air.
Some of these may be slightly triggering for some, we can plot something between ourselves if so.
1.
You don't know how you got here. You've been strait-laced all your life, for f*** sake! Everything was laid out for you, everything you ever craved. Success, money, hope. Then you met her.. Those eyes, those lips. F***, those eyes. They sucked you in, a whirlpool of emotion and passion until you drowned in her vivid ocean.
She led you here. A destructive, explosion of a human, yes, but wrapped up in all the adrenaline you had ever needed. She had quickly seeped her way into your lungs, making it almost burdensome to breathe.
But now, here she was, staring down the barrel of a gun that you held in your own clammy hands, tears forming a concrete path on her cheeks while a menacing shadow of a burly man cascaded over you; shouting something. Something about money and payback, urging you to pull that god damn f***ing trigger.
2.
Trembling as the bitter Winter air shot daggers down your spine, you find yourself at her doorstep. It's been about 5 years since she told you to go f*** yourself. It's been about 6 since you slept with her boyfriend.
Everything is spinning. It feels like the ground is scrambling to catch up to your feet as you watch the door open, just a crack. Somehow, the crack morphs into a gaping black hole in your mind. What the hell was in your drink?
This isn't your neighbourhood. In fact, you don't even recall how to get home. Your thoughts have melted into a puddle of gloop; you're standing by the skin of your teeth. All that you know is that some frat boy has been following you since you asked him to hold your drink, and your childhood best friend is standing behind that door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice is sharp and unimpressed, laced with a bitter undertone, but your vision goes black before your tongue can muster up an answer, and suddenly; she's caught you before your body hit the ground.
3.
You're standing there, forcing the breathing techniques that your therapist told you to use for situations like this, but it doesn't God damn work. Your therapist has clearly never been in a band.
This should be the happiest day of your life, right? You've finally f***ing made it, you're about to play your first sold out show in New York City. Yet, your drummer is nowhere to be found.
The adrenaline coursing through you makes your heartbeat pulse in your ears. A couple minutes late to rehearsals every now and then wasn't a warning sign for this, was it? You're pretty sure if she doesn't show up soon, the whole show will be cancelled. Thousands of people, leaving your gig.
It's your name. You're the one who's going to be on the headlines tomorrow. You're the one who'll get the reams and reams of hate tweets.
The crowd are already vexed. You can hear the bellows and the collective frustration from the wings, ricocheting off every wall in the arena. All because of that f***ing drummer.
4.
You've never really liked kids. Well, you're just not all that good with them. How do people babble on and on with a toddler who can't tell their fingers from their toes? How can anyone hold a conversation with a snot-faced child who can't even read yet? It has never made sense to you, yet somehow you've found yourself here: working part-time in a nursery, and not a single person has died yet.
Actually, you're rather proud of yourself, if you're honest. You're doing so damn good that one of the kids actually /laughed/ at one of your dumb jokes the other day. In fact, the kids aren't even proving to be much of a problem. Despite a few scraped knees and harrowing tantrums, it's the parents that you find hardest to deal with. Today is no exception. Your boss has requested you stay back and chat to a furious parent, apparently asking to speak specifically to you. God knows why, but you need to get this over with if you want to get home any time in the near future.
The last thing you're expecting to work through the door is her. Red faced and fuming so intensely you're surprised she's not producing steam from her ears. She's younger than most of the parents that drop their kids off here, about your age, and, well.. She's hot.
5.
Growing up, you two were never compatible. Everything she said made your skin crawl. How could someone be so ignorant? A travesty and your entire opposite? Yet somehow, you happen to share the same passion as someone you believe to be the worst thing that crawls through the hall of your college.
You despise her, truly, you do. But you're a dancer in a small town, your options are certainly limited when it comes to who you can choreograph and explore with, and somehow dancing with her feels like.. home. From years of working together, you understand each tiny detail of each others bodies, linking together perfectly as you move in unison, safe with each other. Maybe the mere though of her makes you shudder outside of your little dance studio, but together?
You're barefoot and bruised, and she is the only one you trust to catch you when you're blindly leaping through the air.
FRANKIE TAYLOR NIX
{{ General }}
Name: Frankie Nix.
Middle Name: Taylor.
Nickname(s): Frank, Taylor, Tayls, Nix.
Gender: Female.
Pronouns: She/Her.
Age: 23.
Date Of Birth: July 27th
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. (Female lean)
Position: Switch (though she won't admit that)
Hair Colour: Naturally brown. Sometimes dyed Blonde.
Eye Colour: Light Brown.
Tattoos: 8. One behind her ear, one on her ribs, the others on her arms.
Piercings: Double lobes, Nose, Industrial, Tragus, Helix.
Height: 5'7.
Occupation: Bass guitarist, Backing Vocalist
Wealth: Surviving.
{{ Family }}
Parents:
Divorced.
Mary-Beth Lee (Mother, 50.) Relationship: Rocky. Regular fights.
Cosmo Nix (Father, 54.) Relationship: Nonexistent unless necessary.
Siblings:
Griffin Nix (Brother, 28.) Relationship: Going through a rough patch. Usually good.
Rain Nix (Sister, 18.) Relationship: Good. Frankie is very protective of Rian.
Born: Nashville.
Currently: New York / L.A, wherever she gets hired for gigs.
{{ Personality }}
Skills: Singing, Writing, Tech, Acting.
Instruments: Bass, Drums & Guitar (A little bit).
Likes:
Rock & Indie Music.
Passionate people.
Tequila.
Haribo's.
White teeth.
Lavender.
Money.
Tattoos.
Piercings.
Sunflowers.
Coffee.
Poetry.
Dislikes:
Pretentious people.
Dishonesty.
Hot chocolate.
Seafood.
Musicals with no talking.
Taking exams.
Spiders.
Authority.
Lack of control.
Uptightness.
Strengths:
Confident.
Independent.
Loyal.
Honest.
Would kill for those she loves.
Weaknesses:
Quick-tempered.
Stubborn.
Trust issues.
Dismissive.
Cocky.
Finds it hard to focus on one thing.
{{ Health }}
Overall: In good health.
Fitness level: Quite high.
Drugs: Occasionally.
Smoking: Occasionally.
Drinking: Yes.
Mental Illnesses: Bouts of depression.
tbc.
Name: Frankie Nix.
Middle Name: Taylor.
Nickname(s): Frank, Taylor, Tayls, Nix.
Gender: Female.
Pronouns: She/Her.
Age: 23.
Date Of Birth: July 27th
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. (Female lean)
Position: Switch (though she won't admit that)
Hair Colour: Naturally brown. Sometimes dyed Blonde.
Eye Colour: Light Brown.
Tattoos: 8. One behind her ear, one on her ribs, the others on her arms.
Piercings: Double lobes, Nose, Industrial, Tragus, Helix.
Height: 5'7.
Occupation: Bass guitarist, Backing Vocalist
Wealth: Surviving.
{{ Family }}
Parents:
Divorced.
Mary-Beth Lee (Mother, 50.) Relationship: Rocky. Regular fights.
Cosmo Nix (Father, 54.) Relationship: Nonexistent unless necessary.
Siblings:
Griffin Nix (Brother, 28.) Relationship: Going through a rough patch. Usually good.
Rain Nix (Sister, 18.) Relationship: Good. Frankie is very protective of Rian.
Born: Nashville.
Currently: New York / L.A, wherever she gets hired for gigs.
{{ Personality }}
Skills: Singing, Writing, Tech, Acting.
Instruments: Bass, Drums & Guitar (A little bit).
Likes:
Rock & Indie Music.
Passionate people.
Tequila.
Haribo's.
White teeth.
Lavender.
Money.
Tattoos.
Piercings.
Sunflowers.
Coffee.
Poetry.
Dislikes:
Pretentious people.
Dishonesty.
Hot chocolate.
Seafood.
Musicals with no talking.
Taking exams.
Spiders.
Authority.
Lack of control.
Uptightness.
Strengths:
Confident.
Independent.
Loyal.
Honest.
Would kill for those she loves.
Weaknesses:
Quick-tempered.
Stubborn.
Trust issues.
Dismissive.
Cocky.
Finds it hard to focus on one thing.
{{ Health }}
Overall: In good health.
Fitness level: Quite high.
Drugs: Occasionally.
Smoking: Occasionally.
Drinking: Yes.
Mental Illnesses: Bouts of depression.
tbc.
RULES
- No minors.
- I will not participate in a plot line based solely on smut. If it leads there through/for development of the characters, sure, but if you're looking to jump right in with no plot in mind then I'm not the partner for you.
- Do not send me reams of messages. I will reply when I can. Though, feel free to check in after 48 hours or so. If you message me '??' 20 minutes after sending your response I will block you.
- If I added you, I will message you eventually. Though it may not be instant as I work full time.
If you added me, I will expect that you message me.
- I may RP triggering topics; if anything doesn't sit right with you, message me ooc and I will backtrack and change it. I never want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I will do the same should something you do/say that makes me uncomfortable :)
- I generally write multi-para, though I am flexible and will write more or less if the plot is interesting enough/if it works better for the plot.
- Always feel free to discuss things with me ooc, especially in your first few messages. I don't particularly like jumping into plots with no initial discussion about characters/settings etc.
- Admin - 24. Female. I am not my characters. If our characters are in love, we are not. If our characters hate each other, hopefully we do not :)
- I will not participate in a plot line based solely on smut. If it leads there through/for development of the characters, sure, but if you're looking to jump right in with no plot in mind then I'm not the partner for you.
- Do not send me reams of messages. I will reply when I can. Though, feel free to check in after 48 hours or so. If you message me '??' 20 minutes after sending your response I will block you.
- If I added you, I will message you eventually. Though it may not be instant as I work full time.
If you added me, I will expect that you message me.
- I may RP triggering topics; if anything doesn't sit right with you, message me ooc and I will backtrack and change it. I never want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I will do the same should something you do/say that makes me uncomfortable :)
- I generally write multi-para, though I am flexible and will write more or less if the plot is interesting enough/if it works better for the plot.
- Always feel free to discuss things with me ooc, especially in your first few messages. I don't particularly like jumping into plots with no initial discussion about characters/settings etc.
- Admin - 24. Female. I am not my characters. If our characters are in love, we are not. If our characters hate each other, hopefully we do not :)