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Welcome to the RP Thread. Please do not post if you haven't been accepted, and trust me you'll have been told if you had been accepted. ❤︎ You're obviously expected to follow the rules. Right here will be links to the discussion and the sign ups for easy access. Have fun! ❤︎ Remember, don't stress yourself about the length of replies <3 |
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Rules! 1.All of Sixbear's already made rules should obviously be followed. Click here to get a direct link to them, you should read them if you haven't yet before joining this RP. 2. There's not set amount of members allowed to join, so because of that there is no limit to how many characters you can make. However, I'd recommend only making a starter two before adding more, if any. 3. I tend to forget to unmark reservations but you'll only have 48 hours before you should be unmarked. You can still submit your character without a reservation and without one at all! 4. Please mark work in progresses as WIP. Only ask me to take a look at your sheet once you're sure you're done, thank you. Please also PM me once you're done so I can get to it faster! 5. LGBTQ+ are very welcome here. If you have a problem with that, I'll get a mod. Do what you'd like with your characters! 6. I am the host. This means the weather is controlled by me, the setting and anything more. I'm a big fan of collectively deciding what we're doing so I won't be controlling everything obviously, but please don't go do something crazy like suddenly turning into a vampire or whatever before it's run by me ^~^ 7. Please reserve your own spot, if making a reservation. I won't accept things like "My __ wants to join so can you save a spot for them?" Nope, they can reserve a spot themselves and if they haven't even joined the game yet, well they have to do that first. 8. Have fun! Please include the word Iconic somewhere in your other section so I know you've read the rules! (Yes it's just a copy and paste, I'm lazy lol) |
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Roles The Influencers Stellan Ambrose | 24 | M (He/Him) | Voice Actor | Played by Salem Beaudan Beckett | 24 | M (He/Him) | Fitness Influencer | Played by The Tea Drinkers Alessi Caballero | 27 | M (He/Him) | Lifestyle Content Influencer & Freelance Model | Played by Journey Capri Sinclair | 25 | F (She/Her) | Fashion Designer & Actress | Played by Journey Adelaide Blackwell | 26 | F (She/Her) | Actor | Played by _Moonshadow_ Quinn Kan Vadisi | 26 | M (He/Him) | Vocalist/Backup Drummer | Played by Lackadaisy Harper Filch | 26 | F (She/Her) | Singer/Dancer | Played by Opal Fruits Donovan Armani | 26 | M (He/Him) | Model | Played by The Tea Drinkers Charlie Day | 25 | M (He/Him) | Content Creator | Played by Tenebinth Wolves Mara Holloway | 25 | M (He/They) | Fashion Model & Influencer | Played by Salem Tatum Hopkins | 24 | F (She/Her) | Basketball player & Songwriter | Played by Nirvana_Sky |
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Quinn Kan Vadisi | 26 | M | Vocalist/Backup Drummer | Men.: Donovan (dir.), The Other Influencers (ind.) ~ Quinn woke up today not wanting to be awake. - The drowsy, half-awake state where everything is too warm, soft, and comfortable to get up just yet, and you're lying on top of a cozy body that's making all of that ten times worse. - The first thing that was noticable was the sound of his own noncommital, lazy noise similar to that of a tired dog and an annoyed teenager. He lifted his head from Donovan's chest, squinting around at the large-windowed bedroom that had a vast view of the beach and ocean, and the trees leading down to it, and then at the boxes that still littered the floor. - Quinn didn't like moving. It was too much flexibility in his schedule, which he quite disliked, and also boxes. And moving all of his personal belongings. And then figuring out where to put them, and then committing those where-he-put-thems to memory. - It was exhausting. - On the bright side, now he was in this large, expensive-looking house with all of these rich, famous individuals, and his childhood friends. It was better than living in a one-bedroom apartment with his family, that was for sure. And better yet than living in a garage with his band mates - as much as he loved them. - He laid his head back down, freeing one of his hands that had been trapped beneath the pillow and rubbing his right eye in an attempt to wet the dry surface. Quinn looked over at the clock that had been plugged into an outlet and set on top of a box, letting his eyes adjust to the shadow that his head gave to his eyes. - 10:04? - Why was he awake so early? - Quinn made up his mind, squirming around until the blankets were pulled back up to his neck, his face was buried into the pillow, and he was entirely squishing the man underneath him. - As typical, Quinn is majorly nocturnal. Practices late at night, coming home at three in the morning, and sleeping until noon. He'd figured that when he came here, he'd have to get used to his schedule being changed, to pitch in with breakfast and socializing and such, but as of right now, he didn't care much for getting up. He didn't care much for moving. They hadn't driven all that much, but, still, his back was sore from lifting and moving so many boxes, his throat hurt from singing, and his eyes stung from staying up much too late on his phone. - He closed them. - Snooze button it is. |
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Tatum Hopkins | 24 | Female | Basketball Player and Songwriter | M: Archer (dir.), Other influencers (ind./ dir.) Tatum sat in the baggage claim area at the Los Angeles airport on her phone mindlessly scrolling through social media. With the occasional person walking up to her with huge enthusiasm that made her perk up from the jet lag. Her hearing of young girls saying she was her role model or her biggest fan made her day each time. Tatum has never refused to take a photo or even sign something for her fans, she can take little moments of her day to make someone’s whole day lighten up by meeting her. Her eyes noticed an article with her name that most likely was emphasizing her career or belittling her in some cases as it was always one or the other. Though the headline was something she had to be reminded of each year, especially now she was in the mainstream media. Tatum’s older brother Calvin 10 year anniversary of his death coming up soon: how is this basketball star coping? She thought to herself Instead of guessing to get more views. Maybe ask or not project yourself in other's lives... Oh right! People with even a little ounce of fame does not get the space anymore.. She sat there in a moment of shock and realization settled in as she forgot it was indeed coming up. Tatum reached up to the temples of her hand to rub out the oncoming tension headache that threatened to arrive. She quickly got up to grab her baggage that slowly came into view. Tatum had turned to exit the building quickly and more important just to find some quiet from the buzzing conversations of everyone else around her. Tatum had pushed through the swarms of people that were either exiting the airport to enjoy their time in the city or that were entering the airport. As she stepped out of the clammy and overly crowded airport, she drew in a deep breath of the Los Angeles air of ocean water and mixture of fast foods. The air was sticky and hot as she began to sweat from the hot temperatures of California weather. Tatum hated hot and humid weather with a burning passion as it made her uncomfortable and just miserable. Her mind was interrupted from the incoming call from her brother, Archer. She picked it up with a sarcastic tone “Archer, my favorite brother..” In the other line, her brother said “Tatum, my beautiful and sweet sister.” Tatum sighed “Alright, what do you need? Money or divorce attorney?” Archer chuckles on the other and Tatum could picture him shaking his head. And she heard him ask “You plan on coming to the family dinner to memorize Calvin? Your nieces and nephews would love to see you..” Tatum sucked in a breath hearing him ask her the question that she had been dreading from them to ask. “No. Especially since the last couple years, it’s been more about me than our own brother.. You know since mom and dad believe I need to be settling down or whatever other excuse they need to criticize about my adult life..” Tatum paused as she got in a taxi and gave the taxi driver the directions to her new home. Plus now she was on the phone to distract her that she was in a car and not cause her to have a panic attack over it. Her head slumped back listening to Archer try to comfort or fail to persuade her to come to this dinner. Her foot tapped aggressively on the floorboard of the taxi. Tatum groaned “Look Archie, I’m not going. I can’t just put a halt in everything for this same old depressing dinner to be reprimanded to fit our mother’s perfect vision of her children. I can’t even bring a girl that I would date home without my mother's backhanded compliments and her noticeable fake nice gestures.” Archer groaned “Fine. I get it. But are you really moving in with those influencers and all that?” Tatum grumbled “Yes Archer… And I know. No need to lecture me. They are technically strangers at this point and all that. Blah. Blah. Blah. But I got to go. As I’m getting close to my new home and the moving company should be there by now and I still need to pick out my room…” Archer tries to interject something else and Tatum yells “Oh no I’m losing signal. What I can’t hear you. Bye Archer!” And she aggressively hung up the phone, rolling her eyes. Overprotective older brothers are still overprotective when she is even an adult herself. She would rather be in the hot sun of California than her brothers try to lecture or be her parent. The taxi driver pulled over to a fancy house saying how much the total was and to have a nice day. Tatum reached for her wallet and gave the nice man the total and a 50 dollar tip for any troubles especially listening to her on the phone, the whole entire way. Tatum grabbed her suitcase and her carry on bag and stepped out of the taxi eagerly wanting to go inside the house. Her pace quickened as she saw the front door in view as she grabbed the key that she was mailed earlier in the month. Tatum reached to untwist the lock and appeared into the house. She called out “Hello? Anyone here?” Time for new beginnings or well... Possibly the worst or best time of her life.. |
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Donovan Armani | 26 | M | Model | M: Quinn (d), others (ind) -- Donovan woke to a warm, wiggling body on top of his, accompanied by a soft yowl that could only be described as feline indignation. He blinked groggily, realizing instantly that Quinn was awake, likely displeased with the early hour—or at least what Quinn considered early. Donovan huffed out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around the warm, soft body sprawled on top of him. His body ached faintly from the day before, a reminder of the hours spent at a grueling photoshoot and the impromptu moving spree afterward. Quinn had been overwhelmed, stressing over the last few boxes that remained at the old apartment, and Donovan hadn’t had the heart to refuse when he was asked for help. All he’d wanted was to collapse on the couch with Quinn, eat mediocre Chinese takeout, and maybe steal a few quiet kisses before bed. Instead, he’d found himself hauling boxes up the stairs, soothing Quinn’s worries with murmured reassurances, and organizing just enough of the chaos to make the new place livable for the night. By the time they’d crawled into bed, Donovan had been beyond exhausted, his normally impeccable evening routine abandoned in favor of sheer survival. Now, though, as Donovan lay beneath the sleepy, squirming weight of Quinn, he felt his morning slipping out of control. He had no idea what time it was, but he dreaded finding out. As much as he adored the closeness, he was a creature of habit, and his morning routines were sacrosanct. The thought of starting the day late already had his skin prickling with unease. He shifted slightly, lifting a hand to brush back the tousled hair falling over Quinn's face. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nudged Quinn’s head just enough to peek at the clock on the nightstand. 10:06. Donovan groaned softly, the sound muffled as he let his head fall back against the pillow. A sharp pang of irritation bloomed in his chest—at himself, the time, the situation—but he forced it down with a slow exhale. At least he’d had the foresight to decline any work commitments for the day. Trying to pry himself out of bed, get through his skincare regimen, find food, and then show up for a shoot or an interview was unthinkable right now. Even so, the nagging urge to get up lingered. Habit and discipline pulled at him as much as the warmth of the bed and Quinn’s soft presence begged him to stay. Donovan kissed Quinn’s forehead gently, his lips brushing warm skin. “I’m getting up, gorgeous,” he murmured, though the conviction in his tone was half-hearted at best. Untangling himself from Quinn’s embrace was no easy feat; every sleepy shift and small protest tugged at his resolve. He lingered for a moment longer, fingers trailing lightly down Quinn’s back before he finally mustered the willpower to scoot free. By 10:20, he was upright, albeit begrudgingly. The empty, unfinished state of the house struck him immediately as he padded into the bathroom. Boxes still littered the corners of the room, and the echo of his footsteps against the bare floor reminded him of just how much was left to do. He frowned, twisting the tap until warm water flowed, splashing his face and scrubbing away the remnants of sleep. He took care not to wet his hairline—a tiny act of control that soothed his frayed edges. When he stepped back into the bedroom, the sight of Quinn sprawled across the bed nearly broke him. The blankets were tangled around his legs, and his face, slack with sleep, was framed by a cascade of soft, messy hair. Donovan lingered at the edge of the mattress, caught between the desire to crawl back into bed and the pull of his own restless energy. He bent down, brushing a strand of hair from Quinn’s face. His fingers lingered, tracing the faint curve of a cheekbone, the soft line of a jaw. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked absently, his voice barely above a whisper. The quiet intimacy of the moment settled over him like a blanket, anchoring him even as he spoke. “I’m probably going to order something. There’s no food in this house unless you want leftovers from last night.” He grimaced faintly at the memory of the pizza. “And I thought that pizza was repulsively greasy, so I will not indulge in that.” |
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Quinn Kan Vadisi | 26 | M | Vocalist/Backup Drummer | Men.: Donovan (dir.), Tatum (ind.) ~ What is the world record for the fastest time to fall asleep? Quinn had barely closed his eyes for a second time when he was already fast asleep. It was a remarkable talent, a quirky gift that enabled him to drift off at a moment's notice. Sleep was his sanctuary, where the world's chaos faded, and he could find peace in dreams, however fleeting they might be. Yet, alongside this extraordinary ability, he possessed another: the talent for complaining. As Donovan stepped away from him, Quinn could only manage a disgruntled groan. His protest emerged as a mumble, perhaps a language entirely his own, spiced with curses, knowing him well. He reached out into the space where his boyfriend had just been, only to feel the cool air rush past him. With a sound of weary defeat, he let his arm drop back onto the bed, feeling the sheets beneath him as he sunk deeper into the mattress. Quinn lay there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Donovan to return. His eyelids felt heavy, yet he wasn’t comfortable enough to drift back into slumber. The faint sound of someone yelling from downstairs pierced through the silence of the room, disrupting the last remnants of his sleepiness. Frustration bubbled within him as he glared at the boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner, remnants of their recent move. Time crawled by, and he found himself lost in thought, contemplating the tasks that awaited him once he gathered the energy to rise. The boxes loomed over him, and negative, lazy thoughts seeped into his mind. Despite that, he was determined to face it all eventually. As soon as Donovan re-entered the room, Quinn didn’t rise to greet him. Instead, he turned his gaze towards his boyfriend, crafting the most sorrowful puppy-dog expression he could muster. His hair was a tousled mess, framing his face and giving him an endearing, almost vulnerable appearance. Quinn listened closely as Donovan spoke, his voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It was deep, smooth, and slightly lower than usual, likely due to the early hour. Every time he heard Donovan's voice, admiration washed over him; it was like a melody only Donovan could create. It deepened his affection for him, though a twinge of jealousy sometimes crept in—Quinn often felt self-conscious about the higher pitch of his own voice, which didn’t seem to resonate with the richness of Donovan’s. "I'll eat whatever you throw at me," Quinn replied, his tone soft and affectionate, accompanied by a tiny smile that illuminated his face. As he looked up at him, Quinn felt a warmth spreading through him. The way Donovan looked back made the world fade away. They shared a connection that was both grounding and exhilarating, like an anchor in a stormy sea. Quinn could feel the corners of his mouth lift slightly more, even as he lay there, cocooned in the sheets. Sighing, he shifted his position, attempting to find a comfortable spot on the bed. He tried to focus on Donovan, the way his boyfriend’s eyes sparkled when he smiled, or how his voice could soothe him even amidst the noise of the world. Quinn’s heart swelled with affection, but the reality of their messy life loomed overhead. Quinn let out a thick yawn, batting away his thoughts. He could deal with the boxes — and his band mates — later. “But you won’t lay down for just a bit longer?” He pleaded, his gaze shifting back into that sad, pouting look that he hoped would crack Donovan like it usually did. “It’s only ten. You don’t have to be up yet, Dodo. And, besides, how are you possibly hungry at this ungodly hour?” This wasn’t odd, either — Quinn often wasn’t hungry until noon or later. “You wouldn’t leave me here all alone to shiver in the cold, trying to fall back asleep, would you?” Despite his attempts at a pitiful expression, he couldn’t help the amused grin that creeped onto his face. |
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Charlie Day | 25 | M | Content Creator | M: Donovan(ind), Quinn(ind) and Tatum . Charlie had been one of, if not the first of everyone to arrive at the mansion like house that was supposed to be his home for who knows how long. The reason? He wanted to call dibs on the biggest room. He wanted to have first pick before anyone eles so he could have the best room. It wasn't out of selfish intent, he just really wanted to be comfortable in a house he didn't even really want to be in. It's not like he didn't want to see his old friends, but he also didn't like all the spotlight that would be on him from now on. Being a content creator was relatively chill, and although he had fans, he never got t.v. time like most famous people do. However, hanging out with his big shot childhood friends would definitely change that and give him unnecessary attention. Which he was firmly against. But there was nothing he could do as of now, because he was already fully moved in and relatively comfortable despite everything. He had indeed gotten his choice of room so he was pretty happy with himself. . Speaking of happiness, Charlie had enjoyed seeing Donovan. Although they stayed in constant contact, it had been a while since they saw eachother face to face. Unfortunately Charlie didn't get to see him for as long as he would've liked, considering Donnie had been busy moving in with Quinn. ... Quinn ... It had been a while since Charlie had seen him, but no matter how much time passed, he would never forget the person who had quite literally clinged to him during their childhood days. Thinking back on it, it was amusing to Charlie just how scared he was of Quinn back in the day. . Charlie was broken out of his reverie when an unknown voice called out. He jumped up, ready to go greet the newest resident of the house. It had become his job to greet everyone at the door when they first arrived to hopefully keep them in relatively good mood as they moved into a new place with practical strangers. He peeked his head around the corner, smiling as he saw... what was her name again? Oh, right, Tatum. Charlie popped out, beaming up at the woman. "Welcome! My name is Charlie, if you don't remember. You're Tatum, right? It's nice to see you again! Is there anything I can help you with as you get settled in?" |
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Mara Halloway | 25 | M (He/Him) | Fashion Model & Influencer | Mentions: Other Influencers (ind) Mara had already been up for.. just about seventeen hours. Close to being a day. Close enough that he wanted to just collapse in bed and sleep again but here he was, finally at the mansion's doors. Typically he would've taken a deep sigh to center himself before going inside but this was a place with many people surely already inside. Who knew who could be watching him? He had to be putting on a show even now. So, he made sure his ears were upright, tail wagging just enough to show a playful mood and completed it all with a gleeful smile. Mara pushed open the door and stepped through. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior, perhaps even more so because it didn't.. Well, it didn't seem like it was trying too hard like many other fancy places did. It seemed.. cozy even though it would be housing the rich and famous. He didn't see anyone in the immediate area so he just decided to wander until he found his room. He had been told it would be upstairs, in between two rooms and that the room to his left was being worked on still which meant Mara would have to share with a stranger. Well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad.. hopefully just another person who thought his purple eyes were just contacts and his tail and ears? Fake. Probably just bought them at some shop and they react like they're real because of some kind of programming. There was a little fox painted to look as if it were sitting atop the peephole on the door. It was.. very cute. Whoever prepared the house must've had a sense of humor, and was a beautiful painter in his opinion. He couldn't help but let a genuine, pure smile through his fake one for a moment as he opened the door and slipped inside his room. Luckily he was the first one there. Quickly, Mara got to work putting away his clothes, setting everything up in the bathroom and making the place his own. This would be his place, and whoever he had to share the room with would just have to deal with it. And.. maybe Mara would carve some space out for them if he liked them. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── After near hours of work it was finally lunch time. He had zoned out completely and hadn't heard if more people had come into the house, so maybe there would be some new friends? He left his room in search of snacks. Yeah, a full meal for lunch would be nice but snacks tasted better and he could just keep eating throughout the day. Maybe he'd sleep earlier today though since he had been up a while already. 8pm? Sounded too early.. maybe the regular time. Mara followed his nose to the kitchen and right up to beef jerky bites. He snatched them from a cabinet and pondered for a moment.. If he was going to snack all day, why not take more? So he stuffed two more packages into his pockets and planned to return them to his room soon enough. He opened the original first packet and began his snacking. Maybe someone else would come up for lunch and see him, but he wouldn't have to fake his happiness. Mara was always happy, genuinely, when he was eating. Who knows? But there was also a kitchen downstairs that might be more convenient and popular. Either way, it was fine by Mara. |
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