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i will tag any triggers accordingly, but please let me know if I miss something! i usually use the tag '[trigger] tw' or 'usfw' for any filtering.

my inbox is always open, please feel free to send me memes or anything at any point.

i cut my posts and don't really use icons! i have no issues with formatting how you want to, but i do struggle with lots of different colours or sub sub text!

i'm always keen to develop all types of ships, romantic and platonic alike, though chemistry is key. please don't try and force something to happen! just come chat to me... chances are i'll probably be on board immediately anyway.racists, bigots, xenophobes etc. please just go away. if you're someone who i see being openly any of these, i'll just block you end of.

my blog does feature a lot of football player characters, but rest assured this is not a _football blog_ and you don't need any major knowledge to interact with those characters!

generally, in plain speaking terms, don't be a dick and we'll be alright!!!!

hope's upbringing was that of a typical member of an evangelical family in the south. the family's world was very much centered around church, with her three older brothers totally immersed in the goings on at all points; one played piano, one helped with the bells, one trailed after the clergy. her father was the caretaker of their church, her mother a bellringer who ran an after-school babysitting service for local families. they were upstanding, though not without tragedy; the shadow of what would be the eldest child hung over the family and was spoken about with empathy by all who knew them. mona would surely be married with children by now.

yes, the family was upstanding, though plagued with further upset as hope grew. pets would be found dead and mangled, her brothers would get wrapped up in silly accidents, her mother accidentally ingested things she shouldn't have and became sick more than a few times..

in school, hope flew tragically under the radar, never wanting to make a big song or dance out of things. sure, she had passions, sure she had opinions, but she would never voice them, never speak about them unless directly called upon and pressed. her grades were good, her work was neat - if you asked teachers or alumni about hope jones, they'd struggle to remember the girl who sat smack bang in the middle of classes. she was forgettable, something that would serve her well at a later date.

when hope turned eighteen and wrapped up her education, she found herself called to the church, much like the rest of her family - having always worshipped with zeal, she was excited to finally dedicate her entire being to the Lord and packed her bags to become a nun. at last! she'd be a sister! it wasn't easy, she tried scouring to find a good fit for her and found it in an isolated spot somewhere far more rural than their own little village.

st catharine's was run by a group of strict elders, who offered to help young women gain their theology degree, help build their skills and experiences and give them practical work along the way. it was all a little unorthodox and her mother was not best pleased when she did a little more research and found out that they were their own denomination, that they weren't going to be helping her daughter follow in the path that led to a spot among their own ranks. she especially didn't like the look of father hartnell, the man who oversaw the entire convent. father hartnell who'd phoned hope out of nowhere one day and offered her a place, apparently hearing from someone that she was looking for a post.

not much is known about st catharine's, there's no real paper trail, there's nothing much the locals know, authorities barely knows it exists. they never link the disappearances of local young men to the ramshackle convent, never noticed that the speight of missing young men across the state and then country could be directly linked back to the group.. they never could do the research or ask the right questions, chasing shadows and false information, so never found out about how hope was found to be the holiest of women in their ranks, how she'd been plucked from the convent by the father himself and packed off in his car to serve at various churches all over america. they never heard of how more and more people were heading down to that awfully rural little spot to set up shop, build small houses, settle their families in.

hope's a killer, there's no way around it -- she has murdered men who are deemed unholy, she has heard the lord talk to her (was it the lord? she was unsure), felt his hand guide her weapon.. she's felt his presence in those moments, in the moments where father would preach at others' churches, where he'd put her on the street to bat lashes at the same men whose blood would be spilled later that night. they're doing god's work, she's sure of it.

You sit at a desk that doesn’t really belong to you yet. Sure your name is on the floorplan, everyone knows where to go to get a cutting, hot take on the sport of the day, but you can’t help but listen to that scathing little voice in the back of your head that hisses: you’re a diversity hire, little girl - after the women smashed the Euro’s, they’ve just been looking for a girl to take up Crimm’s spot. You believe it, afterall, you wrote a blog up until this point, where you would wane philosophically about the importance of women in footy, where you’d loudly roll your eyes at Zava being a ‘ball-hogging idiot that everyone seems to worship.. And what even is that hairdo?!’ and churn out post after post about the lack of focus on Richmond’s own women’s team that has been silently topping their male counterparts for months upon months now.. So, deciding to silence that voice and in an effort to make those disappointed faces people have when they round the corner and not see Trent sitting there scrawling away but instead you… you decide to go out there and really show them what you’re about. You change the S in your name to a Z to become more edgy and harsh, you think you’re going to become a trailblazer, but really, you don’t realise you’re just another cog that makes the cycle keep cycling.

IZABEL DYVENOR, THE INDEPENDENT. 

At first that seems hesitant coming out your mouth, but you rehearse it in the mirror several times until you feel the butterflies go away and the knots slowly undo. You can do this. You slip on your mothers old cowboy boots and some thrifted clothes, doing away with the well-dressed reporters of yonder and you go out there with your iPhone set to record and your iPad to take notes on. You’re going to smash this one out of the park. You’re twenty-five, for christ’s sake, how many people your age get given a platform this big this soon? Forget ‘diversity hire’, you’re the bloody new hire, the one that’s going to set the tone and bring these twats in the leagues down a peg or two, you’ll keep them on their toes with questions they’re never going to expect, you’re going to be so brutally honest about them in print, you’re going to make eyebrows raise and make them see that you can do twice the job that Crimm ever could.

aliases: maggie-moon, moon.

age: thirty

sexuality: pansexual

marital status: single

nationality: irish

family: rohan lorenzo (father), eleanor o'malley (mother)

occupation: ghost hunter, niche internet personality, waitress

maggie was born in balleydehob, ireland, where there's a population of roughly 270. at the time both her parents were artists with other odd jobs under their belts and also.. were flat broke. they had been trying for a baby for some years, to no avail, but on the day eleanor and rohan agreed it was not meant to be, eleanor ran to the bathroom and threw up. a pregnancy test that afternoon proved her to be pregnant.

they struggled by with their only child for the first six years of her life, getting her through her first couple years at the tiny village school before bills piled up and rohan found things getting on top of him a little too much -- they needed work and it just so happened that on the day he announced this at the breakfast table, his somewhat-estranged brother phoned all the way from america to say he had work as a groundsman on a property he worked at.

the moon was always on their side, that's what her mother would cryptically mutter when these peculiar coincidences cropped up.

they made the move to america, settling down on the sprawling grounds of a disused hotel, one that was creepy and made maggie, now seven, get goosebumps if she looked at a darkened window for too long.

it was an unusual life, but one that suited them. her father tried keeping her away from the building her entire young life, but as she grew and his bones got old, he couldn't keep her away much longer. she found herself exploring the abandoned hotel her father took care of (odd, to her, to take care of something nobody used anymore) more and more by day and, as she got braver, bolder.. as she consumed a few creepy little movies.. by night, too.

she'd take a little camera into the hotel at night and film the place. the first few times, she ran away screaming into her hand at the bumps and rattles of nothing, but she was a creature of perseverance, so always returned.

over time, she brought friends from school, then her part time job, they'd ask questions and laugh at the jitters they'd get, it ended up being a silly thing. until maggie had her accident.

she was fresh eighteen when it happened, celebrating her birthday weeks late with friends in the hotel when she trod on a rotten floorboard and the floor gave way. thankfully she only fell down to the next floor, thankfully she'd only gotten a concussion and fractured elbow, or so said the nurse who was peering over her when she batted her lashes a few times and woke up, delirious. in the background her friends howled and screeched, but the nurse stroked her hair and promised her she'd be alright.

when her friends got there, maggie trembled and asked them how the nurse had gotten there, especially so fast. they were busy calling 911 and one fled to get her parents. another friend wept over there not being a nurse, that she'd only been knocked out a second or two.

it was from that day maggie started seeing ghosts. started noticing their presence more and more wherever she went. it helped her when she left home and started college, getting her degree in history (with a minor in theatre), when she started appearing in youtube-exclusive shitty horror flicks, when eventually she picked up a camera and made a youtube channel of her own under the name maggie moon. because the moon was always on her side.

now, she lives a nomadic sort of lifestyle in her campervan, her base always being back home with her parents or in a small apartment in the small town nearby to them and their sprawling, ghost-riddled hotel grounds. she's got a small following, is recognised in certain horror-buff rings.

age: forty-seven (june 20th, 1977)

sexuality: bisexual

marital status: married

nationality: polish

family: fil mazur (husband), jonathan mazur (son), eva mazur, noa mazur (daughters), esther mazur (granddaughter)

occupation: housewife, grandmother

born in kazimierz, krakow, bethany's childhood was one of poverty, but one that was still fun and full of joy. her parents were older than most and had already had four children before her -- it was easy to parent a young child when the other siblings were old enough to look after her.

her father worked in a library, her mother was a seamstress but they still managed to keep food on the table and the kids in nice enough clothes. their grandparents also lived with them, who both helped with the kids' education and

bethany excelled in school, threw herself into her studies in order to someday get a high paying job to help support her parents and, if she found someone, her own family.

when she was fifteen, bethany got a job helping her dad's friend working with wisła kraków, a professional football team in the city. she had imagined it'd be something incredibly glamorous, her teenage brain concocted something wild and wonderful. perhaps she'd be working with the big bosses, perhaps she'd be a cheerleader (did football teams have cheerleaders?).. but no. he was a groundskeeper and her saturday job was to help out with his odd jobs. she couldn't turn it down - it meant getting some cash to help her mother with groceries and to also go out with her friends for a couple hours here and there.

at the club was where she'd meet a young filip mazur, another fifteen year old making his professional debut -- apparently clubs all over europe wanted him.. and, though the thought made her blush, beth did too. she was charmed by him, would stand and watch the training sessions just to hopefully catch his eye and it soon worked.

the two became sweethearts and she was head over heels for him, so when arsenal returned to ask for him to join their club at eighteen, she pushed him to accept. it'd be better for them both in the long run, beth was certain. he took the offer and disappeared off to london, followed by beth after six long months.

fil took off in london, quickly becoming a fan favourite -- he was eligible to play for both poland and england internationally, through his grandfather and after years finally got his call. one of the greats of his time, fil enjoyed success and became a staple of north london.

they had jon when beth was nearing twenty and eva a little too soon after him, raising their children with their own traditions and morals, jon becoming the apple of his father's eye. it was a surprise when a third child came along, but they loved noa all the same.

Be more like your dad! His mother had always squawked at Jonny, her Polish accent more thick with pride when talking about Filip Mazur. He and Bethany came to London as eighteen year olds with big dreams, having met back in Poland. They got engaged, married and had kids quickly, raising them to speak both English and Polish, to respect where they came from; heritage was important.

His father had, at one point, been the absolute best of the best on the pitch. A legend. He was loved by the team he played for (an Arsenal man through and through), loved by the nation (when he made his first appearance for Queen and country, Old Wembley’s stands shook) and loved by the pundits. He had records young footballers could only dream of, but it didn’t make him untouchable. 

In 2017, he did retire, at an eye watering age of forty two – something utterly unheard of in that world. He left with a wealth of accolades for Arsenal under his belt, a whole load of records - including oldest goal scorer in the Premier League. 

Jon, the Mazurs’ first born, had worked through Chelsea Academy as a kid - he didn't get to have a Bar Mitzvah because of his incredibly busy schedule, though he put his all into his sisters’ so that he could be a big part of it - and stayed with the Blues all the way through to seniors, making his debut in 2012, after Chelsea won the Champions League the year before. He was a Chelsea lad to his very core, playing (eventually) alongside Roy. Fucking. Kent. A man he should objectively hate given that he’d once tried to absolutely KO his dad in a match, but hey - what wouldn’t anyone give to kick a ball around under that man’s captaincy. He helped shape Jon into the player he is today and he’ll be grateful for it for as long as he’s able to play and beyond.

Of course WHU wanted him; he was in high demand; not only was he the second-tallest player in the Prem which made him a beast to go up against but he was known as an incredibly flexible player who had the ability to move from defence positions to the midfield right up to being in front, playing the 9. He had a kick like his dad, though in truth they were not that similar. That Mazur, though outspoken and bold off the grass, was patient and calm on the pitch, sharing his whippet speed and skill with his son. This Mazur had a relatively short temper and wasn’t afraid to use his elbows.. Though, this is something Jon has worked on over time, instead becoming known for his level headedness and dedication to the sport. He doesn’t fight referees, he doesn’t pick fights with the little shits on lower table teams, he’s an artist on the pitch. 

In 2015, aged twenty, Jon made his debut for the Three Lions, the England team, legacy number 1207.

Now he’s as beloved by West Ham fans as his father was (is) by Arsenal’s. He was named their captain in July of 2017, the same year his father stepped away from the game. It’s a role he takes seriously, trying to pave the way for the younger Hammers, showing them how to act and how to better themselves just as Roy Kent had done for him those years ago. 

On Nov 15th 2018, Jon was given the captain’s band for England for a game against USA, something his own father had never quite managed. He had wanted to step out of Fil’s shadow and this was just another challenge to take up in order to prove himself even more… to who, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

He captained the England team through the 2016 Euros, the 2020 Euros and the 2022 World Cup, he’s got 221 goals for West Ham under his belt, 62 for England and in 2023 he led West Ham to victory, winning the Europa Conference League in Prague.

aliases: cat, nina

personality: thoughtful, sweet, caring, timid, introverted, shy, wary, somewhat brave 

age: two hundred and fifty ( turned when she was twenty-something.. she can’t remember really. ) 

origin: paris, france 

species: vampire (blind), has the ability to change people's memories.

languages: french (native), english, latin, german, greek.  

caterina was born into wealth, her family lived near to the palace of versailles and were famed noblemen and women beloved by the court.

she herself was a little bit of a disappointment to her father. she was a pretty enough babe, but was born blind and was near mute unlike her rowdy, precocious siblings.

still, caterina was given the best education. her mother had multiple tutors come and read things to her, explain various scientific and mathematical theories to the growing girl. one even found a way to teach her multiple languages and it was growing ever blatant that despite her perceived shortcomings she was a genius. sure, she didn’t speak much, too timid and wary, but when she did she’d be able to recite any sort of fact someone desired to know.

this extended to her musical talents - spending much time in the house, caterina was taught various instruments to go along with her beautiful voice and was often trotted out at parties to play and sing for the bemused crowds.

the girl soon began attending various dances in the city though she’d sit alone at the side while her brothers and sisters ( three of each, all older ) danced and twirled and laughed their nights away. she wasn’t miserable about it, though. she enjoyed their happiness, though part of her wanted desperately to be swept up by some gentleman and whisked off somewhere.. less restrictive.

the chaperones her mother hired for her came and went throughout her life, each leaving their mark on her in some way though she hardly spoke to any. the one she adored most, one rosalind sabine, took great pity on the wary girl who’d never even seen her own pretty face. rosa was a peculiar woman from what cat could sess of her, she wore beautiful feeling dresses and veils at times and was always insistent caterina take a brolly to shield herself from the sunshine when they walked - a sadness for cat; she, unseeing, truly enjoyed the feeling of sunlight warming her skin.

rosa took months, but eventually told the young socialite that she had a way for her to see again, had a way for her to enjoy a life she’d never gotten to experience fully. she had a quick fix, a little sacrifice for a life unshackled.

of course, caterina yelped and called out, but was quickly silenced by the vampire, who clamped a hand over her mouth and explained it all again, explained she meant no harm and only wanted to help. cat took her time, but eventually found the potential to see too enticing, so took her up on the offer. 

when she came to, caterina hoped to see such beauty, hoped to see the clouds and her reflection and the face of her good friend, but.. there was nothing. it hadn’t cured her for some reason that rosa couldn’t understand.

rosa didn’t leave immediately. she taught her all she could, took her away from her family under the ruse of needing to give her a better education by seeing the world and supported the young vampire – until she decided it was too much and left caterina high and dry somewhere in a german city. at least, that's what she remembers -- in truth, caterina, aware of her own power, stole the memory of herself, the burden of herself from rosa. 

rose to prominence in 2015 when she became co-owner of nike, has since stormed catwalks for everyone you can think of and outranks the kardashians with her reems of makeup and clothing products.

goddess of victory! ... and co-owner of the brand nike since 1980.

award winning businesswoman, media personality.

has had many faces since 1980, the world believes the company to have been handed from family member to family member.

co-owns the brand with tee, a model known for her makeup lines -- tee is the goddess of modern beauty, the reason you feel shitty every time you're on instagram for more than fifteen minutes.

Age: twenty-six

Occupation: serial killer, waitress at a roller-diner

Family: mary-lou harper ( mother, flower arranger at the church ), donny harper ( father, serial killer, inmate at a high-security prison on death row )

Born into a lower-class home in the backwoods,. you moved into a small town when you turned eleven ( by then, your father had killed three women in your presence ).

Donny Harper was convinced that he was going to have a hand in purifying the land! He believed that God had told him that you and he must help cleanse impurities that would block your way to heaven. The first one was terrifying. Her blood got in your eyes, your mouth - you tried to scream but no sound came out. By the third, you were enraptured!! 

Mother was unaware of what he did, as the murders popped up on your small tv screen, you watched her gasp in horror while you pretended to not comprehend what was being said.. He began taking you into the woods, teaching you to fight and kill, how to use multiple weapons in multiple ways! His reasons were always vague, but eventually ( after the fourteenth kill he took you to ) he told you that when he was gone, you must continue his work.

You kept your head down at school, got good grades and rarely attended parties.. Boys were your downfall. You liked the cute ones, the tall ones, the outcast ones, the musically talented ones.. You liked boys. You led them on, slept with only a couple. You came to learn that these boys were like the women your father shredded up - impure. They asked things of you in bed that were not usual. You saw their impurities and knew they were blocking your way to the light.

After his sixteenth kill, Donny was discovered, had been sloppy with his fingerprints and disposing of the weapon. You had to pretend to sob and shriek whenever eyes were on you! You were good, you weren’t suspected. 

You don’t visit your father, you continue his work. The boys disappear in your town - you’re never suspected because you stammer and blush whenever they look your way. You’re abolishing them and clearing the path to heaven. And your mother is still oblivious, still gasps in horror at the tv when the newsreaders cry : 

born in 1960, is a world renown figure skater after consistently winning championship after championship and landing the title of world champion in 1980, aged just twenty years of age.

she would often get in trouble for her use of rock music in her performances -- her performances would often start off with a classical piece that would mix into another song part way through. Audiences ate her up.

tina dyer was born in 1955 and consistently came second or third, or not even placing and was apparently heard saying ‘god, if only i could hurt the bitch! ‘ after losing at the world champs, aged thirty. 

soon after, opal was found screaming and wailing after her leg was broken by an assailant allegedly known to dyer.

in reality, opal used tina’s hate of the young skater to get herself in the money. the payouts and perks of being a wilted flower seemed never ending and it was never found out that opal framed the older skater, who is no longer allowed to compete in the sport. this was all at the behest of her manager, coach and father.

after a year or so of healing and therapy, opal made her comeback after forcing her way onto the us figure skating team. the world thought she would flop, having not expected the doctors orders, but she placed GOLD whilst said world waited with bated breath.

the young skater is naive in most ways, but was enraged when a sports magazine ran a story on the possibility of her being a virgin, coming out publicly to slam the magazine and leading the movement for it to be shut down.

never had more than one drink, never done a drug, yet to sleep with someone, but that’s nobody’s business. that being said, she would be a wild card when she gets into that.

alias(es): vik, tilly.

birth date: 14th february

birth place: moscow, russia

sex: female

age: timeline dependent 

sexual orientation: redacted 

height: 4'9" / 1.5 m

weight: 77lbs

eye color(s): left eye is a light hazel, right eye is a dark brown

hair color: dark brown / black / red streaks

hair length: varies. lets it grow to her hips before cutting it back to her shoulders

build: slender and slim but surprisingly muscular

scars: many. lots on her fingers and hands, large one between her breasts, small scar on her neck, scar from a bullet wound on her left shoulder

best traits of her personality: brave, bold, adapts easily, strong, consistent, loyal

worst traits of her personality: short temper, sharp, speaks without thinking sometimes

parents: unknown to her, two people killed by a crime ring who then raised her

occupation: freelance thief, spy, assassin, honeytrap

languages spoken: fluent : russian, english, french, italian, spanish, polish, romanian, dutch, swedish, limited : Greek, portuguese, mandarin

skills and hobbies: hand to hand combat, using guns/automatic weapons, using swords and knives, drawing, athletics, baking, ballet.

History :

Taken from the parents that were tragically and brutally murdered, Vik was raised by Vernon and Izobel Krawaczynska, the man who was head of a top crime syndicate in Moscow and his wife who couldn’t have her own children. Izobel gave the child a caring hand during these years before her husband took over the education and rearing of the girl who was clearly learning quickly. Some would remark how the child seemed to learn things incredibly fast, being able to read at an eerily young age.

He had Viktoryia taught by various tutors and his own men – they began with languages and basic endurance exercises, while also having her educated in normal ‘academic’ subjects and allowing her one activity of her choosing. After seeing books with pictures of the Russian ballet, she chose that and she flourished in it, having a natural elegance that’d become handy in her later years. She never had dreams of becoming a ballerina; it was all-too clear that girlish dreams like that were off the cards for her, even then.

On an unsuspecting Wednesday evening, Izobel died after an enemy of Vernon shot at them through the window of their home. This affected Viktoryia terribly, the girl now lost without the one sliver of warmth she had, but as Vernon became colder, so did she, throwing herself into her training and finally being allowed to learn to use guns and blades. If that was the only way to prove herself, to show him that she was worth his attention, then she’d excel, she’d be the best of the best.

Viktoryia was clearly becoming weapon-like, the men putting her through trials to see how she was coming along. Her new lessons were about accents and dialects, teaching her to speak as though she were native to whichever country they would be having her work in. The trials were tough, but Vik grit her teeth and got on with it, she fought better than most and her elegance that had played such a part in the ballet shone through here - she moved so gracefully, almost like she was performing the nutcracker, as she sliced up bags of sand and sometimes Vernon’s own men. It was after watching her get through three hours of being put through her paces that Vernon decided she was ready to truly show her worth.

They threw her into the work, sending her to various countries to work undercover at other criminal rings to find out their secrets and plans, then fed them back to her own group. She loved it, it gave her purpose, made her feel useful and she worked so hard not to let herself stray from concentrating on the work. But then of course, there was Anatoly.

Anatoly was dark, dangerous and had a smile that made her feel like the only woman in the world. He would whisper in her ear in the corridors and kiss her wrist when nobody was looking. She tried to not let him consume her, but he did. She’d do anything for him. She loved him.

When she returned from a dicey mission in Italy, she discovered that Vernon had been murdered horrifically and suddenly and nobody had thought to contact her, to bring her home to grieve. It made no sense to her, a random attack – surely his men ought to have been keeping guard? For once, since Izobel died, Vik wept. She sobbed and screamed and wailed and Anatoly was there to hold her to his chest, to kiss away her tears and make her feel whole again. He took up Vernon’s place and Vik supported him, sitting on his knee, killing for him, living for him.

Though it came crashing down - someone’s lip was too loose and she soon found out that Anatoly had been the serpent who’d killed the man she saw as a father, but upon confronting the viper, he convinced her it was for the greater good. And she sucked it up. Believed it. It was better than .. the truth made her wild. He thought he could keep the truth from her? Hide how power-hungry he had been, how he’d taken the opportunity to pounce while she - the only person who could’ve stopped him - was out of the country. She killed eight men before ending up in his office. Left him for dead on the floor after making him beg, with a broken chain in hand and a bloody V carved into his cheek.

Aliases: Cherry with a C, Honey like what bees make, Charlie, Karolina, Alabama 

Age: Verse dependent!

Date of birth: 9th June

Birthplace: Nashville

Residence: Vegas, baby!

Gender: female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Band singer, showgirl and conwoman (verse depending)

Family: Molly Wiseman (mother), Brian Wiseman (father).

Body type: Endomorph

Hair colour: Blonde

Eye colour: Brown, wears blue contacts

Height: 5’3”

Positive: Bright, bubbly, sweet and well meaning, optimistic.

Negative: Will steal all your money and ply you with booze, quick to temper or tears, speaks before thinking.

Likes: Singing, dancing, a good show tune, pretty pink sickly sweet cocktails, fast food.

Dislikes: Smartmouths, know-it-alls, people with no manners, wandering hands, whisky.

Her story is not too dissimilar to the stories of many of those trying to make their living on the strip. A young girl from a working class family with dreams of becoming a broadway star or country singer - her mom put her through beauty pageants from as soon as she could walk, her dad would drive her to various dance classes and singing on a saturday morning.. They of course were happy to encourage their daughter’s hobbies, but Molly did sometimes look at Charlotte like she was their ticket out of there, their very own Shirley Temple.

In school, she coasted - not by choice, but by the fact that some people just aren’t booksmart. Charlotte was a charming girl, got on with her teachers and was popular among the kids in school, but her grades barely cut it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying; she had tutors for extra help that she fit in among her dancing and pageants, but she wasn’t too focused on college or anything like that, wasn’t fussed about Yale or Harvard like most others were when the end of highschool came along. Instead, she was focused on forging a career for herself either singing with a guitar like her favourite person Dolly Parton or dancing, singing and acting her little heart out on Broadway. But where to begin? She didn’t live close enough to New York to drop into auditions whenever she wanted, but she did live in a place known for its music.

But becoming a star proved harder than one might think, endless rejection if she could find someone to even listen to her sing to begin with - it began to weigh on the young woman heavily, feeling her dreams of a future slipping through her manicured fingers.

So, she came up with a new dream after watching a travel programme about Vegas… she was going to be a showgirl. Charlotte saved for a while, before kissing her mom and dad on their cheeks, threw her two cases into the back of a cab and was Vegas bound! 

How did she save? Why, by going out to various military bases and bars and singing her heart out with a band made up of older men who still had a bit of that Nashville spark. She made grown men swoon, had them begging her to come visit them when she was next in town, some even wanted her to just write to them. Which she did. That was the time in her life when she was happiest and one she wished she could return to, deep down.

However, in Vegas, things were not what she had hoped. Turned down from auditions at the big places, Charlotte was too short, had hips that were too wide, a load of bullshit! But she was ever the optimist, wasn’t she? So she went into every bar and club she could, asking if they were looking for a showgirl, singer, anything and eventually found herself lucky. Lovelace was a bar with burlesque dancers, showgirls and singers, they welcomed in the bubbly buxom blonde and put her on show after show. She dances, sings, sits on knees and giggles. But all that don’t pay the bills, so Cherry became good at swindling.

nicknames: charley, chas

age: thirty-one

height: 5’3”

parents: cordelia amber (mother, unemployed but considers being a spiritualist her full time job) and james amber (father, works in communications for defence)

occupation: freelance it, does a lot of data analysis but is extremely skilled in the field of computing and technology

education: basic education but with fantastic grades. computer science at college, which developed into an interest and new talent in robotics/advanced tech. dropped out after two years.

location: studio apartment that looks chic and bohemian because she just doesn’t care.. nothing much to shout about.

hobbies: building computers, watching ghost adventures, video games, rollerbooting, partying, looking hot 2 trot

traits: sharp, quick-witted, bold, one of those effortlessly smart people, game player.

alias: winnie mint

age: twenty five ( born dec. 25th )

nationality: british

family: elouisa mint (mother, famous jazz singer), nolan mint (father, famous big band conductor), becky mint (older sister, thirty six, vet), harvey mint (older brother, thirty two, maths teacher)

occupation: singer in the band ithika 

known for: writing the song the chain, that catapulted her band into the music industry

Winnie was born in devonshire, england, to parents that were finally settled down after years of touring and years of fame. their house was large, but not too lavish, they gave their children just what they needed and rarely what they wanted. They took all of their children to events and shows, but both elouisa and nolan had decided that they would never tour with children again.

Growing up was a tad lonely for winifred; her sister and brother were already a lot older by her and by the time she began school at five, they were already settled in their friendship groups, with Becky about to leave, that they didn’t have much time for their little sister. Nevertheless, she pressed on and found herself somewhat of a social butterfly, always playing with the children that were left alone at break or lunchtime. This was a habit she kept up throughout her school years, always making sure everybody had someone to talk to. It meant she had a vague group of friends instead of a solid one, but Winnie didn’t mind so long as she was helping people be happy.

It wasn't until she was thirteen that Winnie showed an interest in music - she was idle in the house, with her siblings both away at university, so her father suggested she pick up an instrument. Winnie adored playing with her father, though could play very little of many instruments as she never had the patience to keep up just one. what she really enjoyed.. was the singing. She loved to sing with her mother as her father played piano, loved to sing along to their records, to the jingles in adverts on the television.. anything! her father pushed her with this, suggesting she sit down and begin writing her own songs to perform. and that she did.

by the age of fifteen she had a plethora of original songs under her belt, including one entitled ‘keeps us together’. school would soon be coming to an end for winnie and she had no plans of going to university like her siblings, so nolan and elouisa begun to show her into the music industry. they never spoon-fed her, always made her pursue people herself.. It was after two years, at the age of seventeen, that she finally got a bit of a break.

one record label was looking to put together a new band; they had the key components but were missing a singer. and a singer songwriter? That was even better. The label snatched Winnie up and put her in this band of twenty year olds and had her show them what she had, whilst various other people watched from the sidelines.

This was the pivotal moment that the song audiences know as the chain came together. She grabbed a tambourine and began to sing. she was stopped, someone played a riff, she was told to start again. This was how the song was built.

The band took another year or so to come together fully before they released their first single: THE CHAIN. The public lapped it up and soon they would be playing venues in London, all over the country. Another few years passed, they released an album and went on a tour of Europe, playing small venues anywhere they could fit in. The audiences were packed tight and the feeling was electric.

She was in a band with older people, with bigger egos than she. they all fought viciously behind the scenes, all of them ( apart from winnie ) thinking they owned the band and its members.. She pushed through this, kept writing songs and a year later, they had another hit: Rhiannon.. and their guitarist, Milo, left the band. Since then they’ve been touring, writing, recording and are slowly getting more and more mainstream recognition ( though this was more than Winnie could’ve ever dreamed of when she was sitting in her bed writing keeps us together by the light of her torch. ). 

The young woman has one saving grace: john henry moore, whom she’d met when she was still trying to get representation. The two kept in communication almost constantly -- if they weren’t writing, they’d be on the phone together, speaking well into the night. At some point, Winnie realised that her feelings for John were more than just really good friends.. She found herself looking for him in crowds, her heart skipping whenever she got a letter with his writing on the envelope -- but their letters dried up one month, both of them busy with their lives. 

That December, Winnie attended a party for her 27th birthday (thrown by her bandmates, she was never a party person) and was pressured into trying some narcotics someone had bought -- she was given too much and was left alone in a room for a few minutes. That was all it took, a few minutes. As the clock struck midnight and Christmas day, her birthday loomed, winnie mint passed from an overdose in the busy party -- only being discovered an hour later. 

Her bandmates all mourned, all fought over her cut of the royalties, but a letter had been sent to her lawyers earlier that year once she’d felt an odd premonition, a letter that was titled ‘winifred mint’s last will and testament’. It was all to be left to one john henry moore. She never knew that her death would come around so soon, but something had told her to make sure in whatever situation, he had to be taken care of. 

age: twenty five ( as of 1978 )

nationality: english

occupation: singer

family: maevis ‘mae’ blake (mother, deceased), unknown father

Olivia was born to an artist mother in her own living room, with only a neighbour to help. Her upbringing was pretty mundane, similar to many of the children in her area of London – she attended school, got average grades and was … pretty average herself until the age of about nineteen – that was when her mother died from terminal cancer, after refusing treatment. It was painful. Livvy dropped out of college, needing to work a full time job to keep her money flow going as what was left in the will was minimal.

She was pushed into open mic nights by one of her three friends, Brandon - he had heard her poetry, song lyrics and singing over the years, but wanted to help her channel her obvious grief into something creative, just like her mother would have wanted. Olivia was too shy, so used her fashion and eccentricities to carve out a character for herself. she sang in a different tone, her lyrics were different and she wore layers of fabric that she had sewn together in her living room. 

People doubted that she’d amount to much; she had a new, different sound that irked people and her attitude on stage set people on edge in her local pubs and bars, even when she played in Shoreditch or Soho or other ‘edgy’ areas of london. but she pressed on - her music was helping her process what she was too uptight to talk about, using it to help battle what she didn’t understand was depression and great anxiety.

Her luck came one night in Camden town, playing in the worlds end pub, where an agent named Paul Dervish picked her up. He'd signed many well-known artists and thought that Olivia's unique style and sound would take off. She was naive, excited, and accepted right away, quickly falling into the studio and into the music industry.

it wasn't quite what she expected. people in the industry didn’t understand her style or message - critics would be harsh, peers even harsher, but her fans were dedicated and supportive. She couldn’t get away from the nasty words from the critics, however, and struggled to find the positives within the negatives. alongside this, she struggled with alcohol abuse, using drink as a way to get through her anxiety and depression.

Sisters from Buenos Aires. 

Their parents are well to do, mother Carla is a lawyer for the UN and father Javi works as an architect across the world - they were somewhat absent parents growing up and only ever wanted one child. They were very clear about that. 

Camila was raised by nannies predominantly, attending all sorts of extra curricular activities.

Camila is twenty-eight and in her tenth year of medical training, studying to become a team doctor at a football club. She’s working at West Ham United currently. 

She’s a bit of a party girl - going out a lot of nights and flirting with whoever, bringing people home and going home with people, all with a cheeky grin on her face. She likes to let loose, but still studies extremely hard and is in the top percent of medical graduates.

Her attitude can be seen as lackadaisical, unserious, but she’s a very determined woman who makes decisions on people’s character very quickly. Her parents raised her to always strive for greatness which she does, with a smile and a giggle.

Alejandra is twenty-one and working at The Hammer, a pub local to London Stadium. Their parents sent them to London to be with her sister recently due to her wild behaviour back home. They figured having to be around the daughter that makes them oh, so proud would make the wild-card behave.

Their whole life, Alejandra has been pushed about, left to her own devices emotionally and all but ignored by their parents - they didn’t have the time or desire for another child after Cami, so she learnt to act out to get their attention. At school, with the nanny, with their friends.

When Camila left to study, Alejandra was eleven and left with a big empty home. She found drinking and smoking at a young age - thirteen - and used it to get more friends and fill her time, though her parents would only react when she turned seventeen. She came home with two black eyes and incredibly inebriated and two days later was being packed off to live with her aunt and uncle, who worked as reporters in California. They moved around with her and in the summer of ‘23 decided to come to London to settle a while - she’d not peeled away from them because they were her way of seeing the world, though Alejandra struggled to make good friends and the family members weren’t the warmest.