#app form

“Where is your country of origin, as well as nationality?”

“I was born in Hong Kong, but both my parents are South Korean, like myself. Although at some point we got settled in LA, and we acquired citizenship, so I’m also part-American. Funny thing is, I’ve never been to South Korea.”

“What has brought you to Thompson University?”

“Well, if a prestigious school like this offers you free education, it’d be ridiculous not to take it. Took the old folks a while to get that, though.”

“Do you have any special arrangements during your stay here?”

“I’m on a full-time scholarship, which I intend to maintain.”

“And your medical conditions?”

“Eh, I’m still feeling a bit jet-lagged, but other than that, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Any hobbies?”

“A few. Baking would be one of those, although it does tend to get… messy. Don’t worry though, I won’t be setting any kitchens on fire during my stay. I also love dogs – I mean, I’ve never had one of my own, but I used to dog-sit a lot, back when people weren’t so paranoid about teenagers stealing their precious Shih Tzus. Good times.”

“Thank you for your compliance. Please know that this interview is being recorded and will be posted in a private server for panel review. If you would like to censor a portion of it for privacy’s sake, please mention so now.”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

OOC:

Name: Dany (with a y)

Age: 17

Timezone: GMT +8

FC: Byun Baekhyun

How long have you been rping?: Three years now! It’s been an on/off relationship, but yeah.

Sample Para:

A familiar ringing echoes from outside, but Elliot doesn’t make any sort of effort to double his pace. “I can always call back later,” he thinks to himself as he rinses the shampoo off his hair. “They Skype me every damn day.”

Bubbles of soap threaten to sting his eyes, but he closes them as the liquid slides down his face, neck, chest, and eventually, down the drain. The water feels warm against his skin, and he almost wants to stay there forever, isolated from everything else. But there was a certain amount of time you can spend under the shower before your fingers and toes start to feel wrinkly and numb, and he was having none of that. Still, he wishes showers would last a little bit longer.

The ringing grows persistent, and he scoffs in annoyance, all attempts in blocking out the sound seemingly futile. He’s been in Genovia for, how long, a week? That isn’t nearly long enough for Elliot to be missing them already, or vice versa. And yet his ringtone persists, crushing any remaining patience in him. “That’s it,” he mutters, abruptly turning off the faucet. He shakes the excess water off his head and grabs his towel, wrapping it around his bare waist.

Stepping out of the shower, he rushes over to the bathroom door and enters his bedroom. His phone rests on the bed, the Old Phone ringtone playing on repeat. He cringes, making a mental note to change it as he approaches the bed. Before he can reach for the device, however, the phonecall ends.

“Great.”

His parents were incredibly busy people. Father went on several business ventures, and mother, on the other hand, spent her time working various jobs like selling homemade goods, or offering tutoring services. So it was only understandable that they would stop trying to call. Truth be told, it was preferable. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Elliot smiles at the thought of him being free from his parents’ watch – at least for a moment, eyes glimmering with hope.

That is, until his phone starts ringing again, with ‘Mama’ displayed on the screen, and all thoughts of temporary freedom vanish without a trace.

—

(welp. hi guysss. i know this is v late but i hope you’ll still have me ;n; i reread and edited this multiple times before i finally had the courage to submit the thing bc y'all are A+ okay? okay.)

“Where is your country of origin, as well as nationality?”

“I’m from here! Grand ol’ Genovia. So that makes me….Genovian! As are you, I’m assuming, though it is quite a cosmopolitan school innit? Well. Anyway. My parents aren’t from hereabouts though. But I was born here.”

“What has brought you to Thompson University?”

“Besides the really top-notch science programs and the feeling of home-base, I guess it’s also the fact that I can’t stand flying, or any sort of heights above my own head, and I lived my whole life with jet-set parents and it was horrifying, really. So why the terror of flying all willy-nilly to England for Cambridge or Imperial if I could just stay here, right?" 

“Do you have any special arrangements during your stay here?”

"Well, I have to maintain a certain grade-point average to maintain my third major, uh, that’s the Neuropharmacology one….nothing else but that really.”

“And your medical conditions?”

“Oh. Hah. Well, I don’t know. I might be physically fit as a fiddle but who knows what sort of deranged psychiatric or latent genetic horrors lurk within me! Wooooo! Oooooohhhh! Okay sorry that wasn’t funny, no, I’m alright. Contrary to popular belief.”

“Any hobbies?”

“Oh, quite a few, besides jacking it up with the sciences bros trying to recreate the Super-Soldier Serum, I do like to read, whenever I can spare the time.  Riding my bike around when I’m not too tired or too busy with academics. Is studying a hobby? Pretty boring hobby, but I like it I guess. Oh! And swimming. I love the ocean! And water. Good ol’ H2O." 

“Thank you for your compliance. Please know that this interview is being recorded and will be posted in a private server for panel review. If you would like to censor a portion of it for privacy’s sake, please mention so now.”

"Please. Please. Just call me Fred.”

Name: Armando (JJ)

Age: 21

Timezone: GMT+8

FC: Aneurin Barnard

How long have you been rping?: Four years, going on five.

Sample Para: 

Fred was at his desk, pretty much a mess again, reaching that critical point where he was probably surrounded by no less than three towers of reference books and his laptop was whining on perpetual plugged-in mode and his shirt had post-it’s on it because why not.

He grumbled nonsensically as he shuffled some papers around on his desk; Genetic Systems of Prokaryotes, Genome Organization and Genomics, print-outs for Pharmacokinetics, notes on Drug Metabolism and General Anesthetics, shopping list—oh yeah he was almost out of bread, how worrying—, diagrams on dynamics for Declarative Cortical Mechanisms Compulsivity,—tissue papers with lipstick marks and corresponding numbers he’d never call, syllabus for Developmental Genetics—oh that was fun his group mates were in an all-girl band how nice they invited him to a gig right—

What was he looking for? Ah yes, cheeky little bugger, the truly horrifying outline for the module on the Biochemical Integrals of Evolutionary Cell Cycles, hiding underneath a flyer for a People-With-More-Than-One-Major support group.

He’d hold on to that.

Fred flipped to the marked page on the outline and let out a low groan as the diagrams on the paper just swam in front of his face. Was that genome sequence supposed to look like the Welsh dragon with two huge, protruding, veiny dicks?

He blinked. The lone lamplight was hurting his eyes, and the coffee cup closest to him was probably empty—was it? He couldn’t be bothered to check he was so alive. Or wait a minute no, he was probably dying. Cheery. What day was it?

“I asked for this I asked for this I ah-ah-asked for it,” Fred chanted, voice rising steadily into a farcical singsong as he surveyed the rest of this week’s workload. There were mountains of it more than usual. Which meant the entire Himalayas instead of just Everest.

He ground the heels of his palms into his bloodshot eyes, not noticing his voice crescendoing up into Mariah Carey levels of tonal shrill, crooning rather badly:

“I-iiii—aaAahh-AAhhh-asskked!”

“Fred.”

He gave a little shimmy as he slapped himself on the face.

“FRED.”

“Aaahh-AAAaaa-aaskked fOOor ThiiiIIss!!”

He should’ve just gone into the music program honestly he could totally rock it he should join American Idol wait was that even still a thing was he even American—

“FRED PLEASE.”

“I AaaAAh–!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FRED OH MY GOD!”

Fred yelped—jumped a meter into the air, shoving violently into the desk and sending paper and highlighters and notebooks flying everywhere.

He took a moment to be completely mortified amidst the whirlwind of academia before he slowly turned around, sending his roommate a well-worn pout of pure and utter woe, as a piece of his notes on neurochemical interactions stuck itself in his curls.

“I’m so sorry.” he said, voice weak and pleading.

His roommate—Gary? Garrett? Vince? He swears he knows this—just stares at him like he normally does when Fred gets like this, with sheer loathing, for another second or two before sighing and flipping him off and crawling back into his really comfy looking duvet oh dear heavens what he would do for a minute of sleep.

Fred spared his neat, unloved mattress on the other side of the room a sorrowful look, and then banged his head on the desk. It didn’t even hurt because of the amount of paper still covering the perfectly pretty hardwood.

It was 4:07AM.

Fred lifted his head and stared down once again at the offending dragon genome with the double dicks. “Stop taunting me,” he whispered at its mockery, eyes squinting menacingly.

He would survive this. He would or his name wasn’t Fridwulfa Macintosh Cavendish Sacajawea Uilleann Montclair-Carlton IV.