Post by DAVID ELIAS GRAY on Mar 21, 2010 0:42:39 GMT -5
FULL NAME: david elias gray (formerly dáithí condlae o'donnell).[/blockquote][/font]
NICKNAMES: davey, dáithí, dave; schoolfriends refer to him as ducky.
AGE & BIRTHDAY: thirty three, 4th of july.
HOMETOWN: longford, co. longford, ireland.
ILLNESSES: bipolar disorder.
SEXUALITY: bisexual.
MEMBER GROUP: teacherrrrrr.
SOME PEOPLE SAY:[/blockquote][/font]
"dáithí never forgave mam for calling him dáithí. even had his name changed and all, legally, like. didn't like living in ireland, i don't think. he's pure weird and really moody but that's 'cause of some mental thing, apparently. he uses it as an excuse for everything. i remember when mam found out he'd been running around shifting blokes in england, she went spa! and to defend himself and stop her from disownin' him, he said 'twas to do with this disorder thing. said it made him mad for the shift and he didn't care if 'twas with a lad or a girl. fuckin' freak."
translations:
'dáithí' - the irish name for david. pronounced 'dah-HEE'.
'shifting' - in west ireland, this is the slang term for 'making-out with'.
'went spa' - became overwhelmingly angry and upset.
-- donncha o'donnell, brother.
donncha is david's older brother; they never got along too well as donncha always thought david was weird growing up and disliked having him as a brother. when david started having hypomanic and depressive episodes and got sent to a boarding school in england, donncha was glad to be rid of him but jealous of the attention his brother got for it. they rarely speak, but when they do, donncha makes sure he very clearly refers to david as 'dáithí' to annoy him.
"DUCKY! ducky was a fuckin' legend at that shithole we attended together. man, he was crazy. used to wind the teachers up like fuck! drove the women to either tears or orgasm and don't even get me started on what he was like with the blokes! i swear to god, i thought mr. allen was gonna hit him one day! was fuckin' wicked man, i'm telling ya! ducky just put this pure strong irish accent on and was just like, 'sir, would ya buck me in the locker rooms if i talked dirty to ya in irish?' fuck man, i thought allen was seriously gonna give him one right in the jaw! i'm telling ya, it was priceless!"
translations:
need i really explain 'buck'?
-- james riordan, school/roommate.
james and david were roommates in the english boarding school david attended in london. james was the one to nickname him 'ducky' (after being incapable of pronouncing his original irish name) and was often witness to most of david's antics in school. the incident referred to here occurred during one of their physical education classes, after the young teacher had assigned the boys to run ten laps of the track for misbehaving. in the end, mr. allen didn't hit him; instead, he met david in the locker rooms and 'bucked' him.
"david's a nice guy, but sometimes he can be a little over the top. i met him when we were at uni together and we went out for a little over a year. i guess i should have seen it coming that he'd go ahead and cheat on me. i was upset at the time because i really liked him, but now that i look back on it, really it was my own fault. i knew what he was like and i shouldn't have expected him to change for me. still, while he was with me, even before he was cheating on me he was really romantic and put in loads of effort. i think people assume that he must be a shit boyfriend because he can't stay faithful, but really, he's actually amazing. he just needs to work on sticking to one person at a time."
-- blair antoine, college girlfriend.
david and blair met when they were both studying to become p.e. and history teachers at london university. they went out for a year, although david cheated on her numerous times throughout the relationship and they had a number of fights and fake break-ups in the final three months. however, david is still convinced that this was the best relationship he's ever had.
"mr. gray? he's kind of weird, but a lot of the girls, especially the freshmen and sophomores, fucking love him. he's a funny bastard in class; goes crazy on the tables and everything! hate having him for gym though, he gives us all the tough shit to do and lets the girls mess around and watch. i think he loves the attention off them, although there's rumours that he flirts with male students too. wouldn't surprise me, the way he goes on."
-- male student, senior.
david's an awful crazy bastard in class; he messes around with the students, swears, dances, jumps on the tables and generally goes mad. but he still teaches them. usually his jumping on tables comes from re-enacting famous scenes from the history books or the swearing comes from imitating conversations between famous historic figures. and of course, david does flirt with his male students aswell as his female students; why wouldn't he? it's not like they ever object to it (mostly).
"oh my god, i love mr. gray! he's so funny in class and he's really funny and nice outside of class and oh my god he's actually really hot. have you heard his accent? it's like, english but a little irish too, it's so sexy, i swear! i could just listen to him talk for hours, although he subs for gym too. one day, he started doing push-ups to show some of the boys how to do it and oh my god, i nearly fainted - one girl did faint! some of the boys like him, but i think some of them are jealous because all the girls like him. did you hear he goes out with some of his students? -sigh- wish he'd go out with me."
-- female student, freshman.
david's female students generally tend to fawn over him a fair bit. whilst there is the populace of girls who dislike his energetic, sometimes immature nature, there is also the majority who love it. truth be told, david isn't as inappropriate with his female students as the rumours might suggest, although he certainly isn't above flirting with them either. it's how he gets his kicks.
"totally inappropriate, immature and definitely not well enough for the job; the man is dangerous to have around children! i don't know how he managed to get in here but the way most of us see it, he should be out! we all feel uncomfortable around him, the way he talks and acts and simply is; it's despicable and disgusting and we're working to get rid of him. alright, so he's a good teacher, in fact i'd almost go so far as to say he's a brilliant teacher -- when it comes to academics, at least, his students are exceeding all expectations! -- but he's teaching them all the wrong morals and values in life and that cannot go on. he needs to go."
-- co-worker.
david's colleagues and co-workers disprove completely of everything he does and there's only the odd one or two on the staff who actually like him or even attempt to like him; of course they're all polite and pleasant to his face, but david knows full well what they really think of him and he calls them on it. he'd rather they be honest with him than treat him like some delicate child; they all know he's bipolar and think that, for some reason, this means he's sensitive. and fair enough, he can be when he's having a depressive episode, but in those instances everyone knows not to go near him unless they're one of the few who are actually friends with him, because if they try they're only going to get assaulted.
LETTERS TO IRELAND:
dear caitlin,
it's nice to hear from you. sorry i couldn't write back sooner but the bastards here wanted me to 'get settled'. eighteen months later and they've finally decided that i'm 'settled' enough to respond to letters, so here i am, finally writing to you from my dorm room thing in belleview. there's three other boys rooming with me and they're all sound. one boy, james, he's a right laugh. apparently he tried to burn down the school he was in in manchester. wish i'd tried that; donncha would've gone mad.
the school itself isn't bad at all. i was expecting some sort of downplayed madhouse where they'd beat us and lock us up and feed us feck all. i was worried i'd end up wasting away over here. on the other hand, it's quite the fucking opposite! the staff couldn't give two fucks what you do or who you do it with (in fact, some of them are happy to do it with you!) 'course, the only thing they're uptight about is sending letters, but i think that's 'cause people outside of the school would notice if we were sending letters when we're not meant to be. this one bloke though, he's pure uptight and tries to make out like he's some great upholder of justice. matter of fact, we bucked in the locker rooms last thursday. it was savage, but i bet you're already squirming on your bed about it so i won't go into detail.
have you been talking to mam? she's been sending me money and a few bits from home like barry's teabags and tayto (they don't have tayto here, it's fucking ridiculous) but i haven't exactly been talking to her. like i said they haven't let me write a letter to anyone until now and you were my first choice. i suppose by the time you send a letter back i might have been talking to her.
donncha sent me a letter. of all people. fucking git. spent the whole thing bragging about them winning the all ireland under 18s gaelic; it's hardly true, is it? donncha's useless at gaelic! how did he even manage to get on the team in the first place? prick. ha, i just said that aloud and james knew well who i was talking about.
fuck it anyway, i've gotta run. one of the lads james beat up last week has stumbled into the room, pig drunk and looking for a fag. i'm interested to find out whether he's referring to cigarettes or...
lots of love,
david.
p. s. i don't go by dáithí anymore; none of the bastards can pronounce it anyway. surprise surprise. fucking whore.
p. p. s. alright, so james wanted me to point out that really i go by 'ducky' now. it's his nickname for me that the rest of the school seems to have adopted. mr. allen even used it when we were bucking in the locker rooms the other day... i bet you just squirmed and went 'ewww!'
p. p. p. s. i'm going to write to donncha later. i'm gonna make sure it causes maximum pissing off on his end. let me know how that goes, won't you?
dear donncha,
well bro, what's the craic? you won the under 18s all irelands!? seriously? ah here, that's savage! congrats! i know it's taken me a long time to write back, but the staff here didn't want me to feel any forceful obligations to write home straight away; they said it might make me feel a little unstable. i love the school here, it's so calm and peaceful and everyone is happy and friendly. i've lost my accent though, listening to all my happy, well-behaved english friends. i've given up on the name dáithí aswell, so instead i tell them to call me david here. i don't mean to abandon my irish heritage, donncha, but you must understand, it's simply too stressful on my troubled mind to worry about such trivial things.
'fraid i've got to run now, another basket of muffins just arrived from aunt gertrude and uncle frank's sent over a few videos for me. the family's all been so kind; even granny o'donnell managed to send me a set of all the sherlock holmes books by arthur conan doyle. have you read them yet, or are you too busy at gaelic training?
send the family my best,
david.
p. s. let mam know i haven't been with any girls recently and let me know how proud she is.
p. p. s. maybe you should mention i've shifted a few lads instead though. thanks.
p. p. p. s. y'know, it's not bad donncha. maybe you should try. the best is when they haven't shaved and it's all stubbly and rough. your mouth gets all bruised and swollen. savage.
p. p. p. p. s. last one, i promise, but when mam goes spa over this, tell her my doctor says it's to do with the episodes and yes, he's given me meds for it. 'hypersexuality' he calls it. savage.
david was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when he was about seventeen, although the symptoms had appeared much earlier and his mother sent him to a boarding school in england when he was fifteen so she wouldn't have to deal with his madness - truth be told, she simply thought he was a disobedient little prick. the school he attended was much like the one he teaches at now and the teachers were just as inadequate and unprofessional as he is, if not even more so. whilst at school, david became quite popular with the other boys and caused plenty of trouble; although at the same time he kept his grades up and ended up leaving with good enough grades to get a course in history and physical education in university. the main reason? during his hypomanic episodes, he was unbelievably productive with his schoolwork.
TODAY, DAVID IS:
heavily medicated , an alcoholic , a history teacher , a substitute gym teacher. during hypomania , energetic , hyperactive , hypersexed , surprisingly productive , loud. during depression , depressed , anti-social , depleted , sensitive , not bothered. in general , humourous , flirtatious , self-destructive , nosy , impulsive , content.
AND DAVID HAS:
blue eyes , brown hair , blonde highlights , 160lbs worth of 6'2" muscle (that's not really all muscle) , a spacious two-bedroom flat , two male golden retrievers called jack daniels (j.d.) and jameson , an addiction to nicotine , an addiction to alcohol , bipolar disorder , more hypomanic/manic episodes than depressive ones , a tendency to break into song and dance at any time and anywhere , an appreciation for chocolate , a love of tea , a really fucked up accent in everyday life and very accurate irish and english accents when he thinks about it , no desire to someday get married and 'settle down' unless it's with his best friend easy who would never agree.
NAME/ALIAS: CLEO!.[/blockquote][/font]
AGE: ten plus five. (that's right. i'm 105). :]
EXPERIENCE: 5+ years.
TIMEZONE: GMT. (ireland ftw.)
ANYTHING ELSE: -pokes tazz- blame herrr. for what, you ask? everythingg. :]
(could not, for the life of me, find a sample from a RL roleplay, despite being on sooo many and i'm much too lazy to type one up now, so this harry potter one can suffice. xD)
A benefit of living in a large mansion meant that when they were fighting, arguing, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge one another's existence, Derek and Odette could very easily avoid each other. With the help of the house elves (who were getting more abuse than normal from a particularly enraged Derek) they could eat, sleep, bathe and go about their lives as normal without one single moment of contact. For the past two days they had accomplished this; Derek had even changed his sleep patterns, so they were still sleeping in the same bed and yet not seeing each other for a moment at the same time. A feat in itself, really, but married couples were quite capable of achieving anything during a prolonged argument about something stupid. Of course, while Odette could bury herself in work, Derek was left to lounge about the house and scrounge for something to occupy himself with. Until he was called on, he rarely had things to do; he had 'given up' (been fired from) his last job after missing too many days and deeming it a pointless application when he had other, better things to be doing. It had garnered him even more work from the Dark Lord, but also meant that when there was no work from the Dark Lord, there was no work at all. Forty eight hours of solid boredom, and Derek was almost ready to kill himself. He needed contact, needed occupation, needed anything. Odette was out of bounds; he was stubborn and refused to be the one to break their unspoken no-contact agreement.
He was wandering around the house, barefoot and topless, when he was summoned for more work. To say he was happy about this would be an unremarkable understatement. His pride and dignity were perhaps the only things to prevent him from bouncing up and down like a toddler in front of the Dark Lord; even then, he hopped off down the hall afterwards, allowing every possibility for the Dark Lord to have seen him but finding that at this point he didn't care. He had work, occupation, something to do and, further still, something fun to do. Apparently, Jennifer Spinnet, the famous(ly fucked up) singer was being too vocal about her anti-Death Eater, pro-muggle views and therefore she was to be 'dealt with'. 'Dealt with' was ambiguous and ambiguous made Derek happy because, essentially, ambiguous meant 'however the fuck you want to get your kicks'. He loved ambiguous orders; they were better than chocolate cake and very, very few things in the world were better than chocolate cake. The other fun addition to this mission was that Derek wouldn't be doing it alone. Typically, Derek was quite content to work alone; it allowed him more freedom and more fun. This time he was glad to be working with someone else, simply because his social needs had been taking a bad blow lately and getting to ambiguously 'deal with' the Spinnet bitch alongside a fellow brother of the cause would do wonders for his happiness levels, as well as reinforce his motivations not to speak to Odette until he absolutely could go no longer without sex.
Arriving back to their several acres of house, Derek wrote a brief note to Lennox Callaghan and sent it off with one of their several owls. The note contained instructions for Callaghan to meet him in roughly two hours for a pint and a chat. Then, Derek showered, shaved (considered it, more like, before deciding he was better-looking with some scruff) and dressed, throwing on a pair of dark grey jeans, a lighter, grey long-sleeved top and a black leather jacket. Today was not a day for expensive robes or even average robes at that; after the other night's bloodbath, Derek had decided that trying to look one's best for people who were, in essence, corpses, was utterly pointless. And whilst upholding a strong reputation for doing things that were pointless, almost despite such, Derek knew that this really was a very valid point. Never one to be vapid, he took only a brief glance in the mirror, noting his hair could do with a trim (and was getting grayer with each passing day) before disapparating with a small 'pop!'. He wasn't due to meet Callaghan for another ten minutes (and the boy was infamous for having terrible time-keeping) so he wandered to the shop across the road to buy himself some chocolate. Now content with his fill of chocolatey goodness, he loitered outside the shop, leaning against a lamp-post and watching for the arrival of Callaghan. Several events of mild interest occurred in the passing minutes, but Derek was too involved with his own imagination to notice or care. To think that they would be 'dealing with' Jennifer Spinnet tonight. His head was spinning, blood boiling and fingers itching with the sheer excitement of it.
Maybe she'd sing a number or two before they offed her.
A benefit of living in a large mansion meant that when they were fighting, arguing, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge one another's existence, Derek and Odette could very easily avoid each other. With the help of the house elves (who were getting more abuse than normal from a particularly enraged Derek) they could eat, sleep, bathe and go about their lives as normal without one single moment of contact. For the past two days they had accomplished this; Derek had even changed his sleep patterns, so they were still sleeping in the same bed and yet not seeing each other for a moment at the same time. A feat in itself, really, but married couples were quite capable of achieving anything during a prolonged argument about something stupid. Of course, while Odette could bury herself in work, Derek was left to lounge about the house and scrounge for something to occupy himself with. Until he was called on, he rarely had things to do; he had 'given up' (been fired from) his last job after missing too many days and deeming it a pointless application when he had other, better things to be doing. It had garnered him even more work from the Dark Lord, but also meant that when there was no work from the Dark Lord, there was no work at all. Forty eight hours of solid boredom, and Derek was almost ready to kill himself. He needed contact, needed occupation, needed anything. Odette was out of bounds; he was stubborn and refused to be the one to break their unspoken no-contact agreement.
He was wandering around the house, barefoot and topless, when he was summoned for more work. To say he was happy about this would be an unremarkable understatement. His pride and dignity were perhaps the only things to prevent him from bouncing up and down like a toddler in front of the Dark Lord; even then, he hopped off down the hall afterwards, allowing every possibility for the Dark Lord to have seen him but finding that at this point he didn't care. He had work, occupation, something to do and, further still, something fun to do. Apparently, Jennifer Spinnet, the famous(ly fucked up) singer was being too vocal about her anti-Death Eater, pro-muggle views and therefore she was to be 'dealt with'. 'Dealt with' was ambiguous and ambiguous made Derek happy because, essentially, ambiguous meant 'however the fuck you want to get your kicks'. He loved ambiguous orders; they were better than chocolate cake and very, very few things in the world were better than chocolate cake. The other fun addition to this mission was that Derek wouldn't be doing it alone. Typically, Derek was quite content to work alone; it allowed him more freedom and more fun. This time he was glad to be working with someone else, simply because his social needs had been taking a bad blow lately and getting to ambiguously 'deal with' the Spinnet bitch alongside a fellow brother of the cause would do wonders for his happiness levels, as well as reinforce his motivations not to speak to Odette until he absolutely could go no longer without sex.
Arriving back to their several acres of house, Derek wrote a brief note to Lennox Callaghan and sent it off with one of their several owls. The note contained instructions for Callaghan to meet him in roughly two hours for a pint and a chat. Then, Derek showered, shaved (considered it, more like, before deciding he was better-looking with some scruff) and dressed, throwing on a pair of dark grey jeans, a lighter, grey long-sleeved top and a black leather jacket. Today was not a day for expensive robes or even average robes at that; after the other night's bloodbath, Derek had decided that trying to look one's best for people who were, in essence, corpses, was utterly pointless. And whilst upholding a strong reputation for doing things that were pointless, almost despite such, Derek knew that this really was a very valid point. Never one to be vapid, he took only a brief glance in the mirror, noting his hair could do with a trim (and was getting grayer with each passing day) before disapparating with a small 'pop!'. He wasn't due to meet Callaghan for another ten minutes (and the boy was infamous for having terrible time-keeping) so he wandered to the shop across the road to buy himself some chocolate. Now content with his fill of chocolatey goodness, he loitered outside the shop, leaning against a lamp-post and watching for the arrival of Callaghan. Several events of mild interest occurred in the passing minutes, but Derek was too involved with his own imagination to notice or care. To think that they would be 'dealing with' Jennifer Spinnet tonight. His head was spinning, blood boiling and fingers itching with the sheer excitement of it.
Maybe she'd sing a number or two before they offed her.
