( BEAUTIFUL AND DIRTY RICH )

[dallas pashmina taylor]

NAME Dallas Pashmina Taylor
NICKNAMES Dal, Dally, Pinkhead.
AGE 18
BIRTHDAY April 24
GENDER female.
SEXUALITY bi-curious.
ON TOUR WITH perfect match up.
AS THEIR drummer.
LOOKS LIKE Audrey kitching

LIKES pandas, toys, clothes, shoes, designer labels, hair care products, makeup, doing makeup, doing hair, putting together cute outfits, playing drums, singing, white chocolate, white chocolate lattes, tea at night, coffee in the morning, star bucks, her new friends, being sent drinks at the bar, publicity, being in the spotlight, signing autographs, modelling, IM’ing, texting, scary movies, sweets, cupcakes, hats of all sorts, vintage clothes shopping, spending tons of money, calls from her parents, new hairstyles, extentions, curling irons, tattoos, soda, sushi, being on the road, feeling reckless, having no future planned out for her, skipping collage and still having billions of dollars at her fingertips.
DISLIKES ugly ensembles, immense people, kids who think they’re good enough to cuss her out, things being thrown at her, being swamped, having a million emails to reply to, coffee at night, tea in the morning, migranes, hangovers, too-big after parties, waking up not knowing where she is, bad makeup, the heat, any song by rhianna, animal cruelty, pervy boys, hookers, boyfriend thieves, grocery shopping, driving for hours and hours, boredom, fighting with close friends, watching too much tv, staying in, not making an appearance and wishing she had.
FEARS dogs and drowning.
STRENGTHS picking out cute ensembles, accessorizing, drums.
WEAKNESSES long distance running, climbing things, getting dirty.
GOALS to make her own money so she doesn’t have to rely on her parents, to win a grammy, to have a business doing either makeup or hair.
SECRETS she misses the high life with her parents, she hates the colour pink.
PERSONALITY

[/b] though she partied her way through a majority of her high school years, Dallas has received an education far above the common human‘s in quality. In grade six, her class was already studying content at a tenth grade level. This means that she finished the common high school curriculum by the end of the eighth grade. As well was being school smart however, she’s spent enough time in the real world to know a bunch about that as well. She hates being mistaken for a dumb girl, as it’s obviously untrue.

• KIND Growing up in such a secluded, artificial world full of fake smiles and fake words, Dallas finds it very hard to be rude or mean to someone’s face. She’ll always place a phony smile over a frown whenever she comes to meet with someone she isn’t very fond of. She will however speak of her blatant dislike for said person behind their backs. What they don’t know cant hurt them, right?

• SCHEMING The way her old life was, was prestigious and catty to be honest. Girls would say or do anything to get to the top of the food chain, and Dallas was no exception. Once she got to her desired position however, she found that it was much harder to simple stay where she was. So, she became a master of scheming. She would trick people into her submission, blackmailing them and the like. She would literally do anything to be the queen bee for as long as possible, and got herself a bit of a talent. She only uses it when she needs to, but its still a practised trade by this vixen.

• BITCHY Though its pretty mild and harmless, Dallas has been known as a bit of a bitch at times. Usually these instances arise when defending herself or a friend, or when shes scheming to get her own way. She’s hardly as icy as she used to be as she’s tried to be less like her mother by changing but as I said, every so often the devil inside her comes out.

• LUXURIOUS She doesn’t try to be, but thanks to the credit card she often carries around Dallas has been known to splurge on some pretty extreme thing. She doesn’t really understand the concept of money, seeing as she’s always just had things handed to her. Her parents never seemed to care much anyhow, not even when she had her lambourghini customized, blinged out using over 100k. Not a call, nothing. They just paid it and didn’t speak of it. This gives her the freedom to spend her money the way she wants, and she most definitely does.

• CONFIDENT Since she was small, Dallas had always had people doting on her. Telling her she was gorgeous, and encouraging her in every way possible. This caused her to believe the things they said, always walking into situations with her head held high. Now don’t mistake this for cockiness as it most definitely isn’t. She simply carries herself with a certain poise, knowing deep inside that she is indeed a good person.

• HUMEROUS Though a lot of people don’t see this side of her, Dallas can actually be quite funny. This is mostly because she always had a chance to joke around with her girlfriends back home as she was never stressed out, and now has a pocketbook full of one liners to shoot back at her foes, and friends when she’s just kidding around. Yes, her humour can be a bit cruel and sarcastic but isn’t it that way with everyone? She doesn’t mind what people think of it, and just see’s herself as goofy old Dallas. Nothing more, nothing less.

• NOT JUDGEMENTAL Back when she was younger and even more naïve, Dallas had always judged everyone around her based on appearance, and they would do the same for her. She realized then that she didn’t like being judged, so why do that to other people? She now accepts basically everyone, not discriminating against the rich and the poor, the young and the old. As long as they’re kind to her and respect her in the ways she wants them to, they’re pretty much good in her books. Even a homeless bum on the side of the road has some good in them, and now, Dallas can see that.

• TRUSTING since she’s never really been badly hurt before and her entire life’s basically been a breeze, Dallas it far too trusting when it comes to friends and relationships. She’ll let basically anyone who will listen into her world, which can be dangerous though she’s too naïve to see it. Luckily for her, no one’s taken that step to trudge upon her heart and soul quite yet, but someone so sweet always ends up with their face in the dirt. Its just a matter of time.

• STUBBORN like most girls her age, Dallas has been known to be particularly stubborn. Be it with her friends, not budging until they do what she wants with their night or with her parents, pouting until they got her that new pair of jimmy choo’s. Also, when in an argument she’ll hardly ever let up before the other person does, standing her ground until they decide to walk away. It just bugs her to let herself get stepped on. She doesn’t disrespect herself like that. [/ul][/blockquote]

PARENTS Mercedes topaz taylor, ben Fredrick taylor
SIBLINGS none.
HOMETOWN boston, MA
OTHER FIGURES none.
HISTORY
They were the elite. The crowd everyone in America wanted to talk to, to walk with and to sit with. Even adults stared longingly, wishing so badly they could become a part of their tight circle. The boys and girls of the upper east side were not only privileged, but found every way possible to show off this fact by flaunting their many outfits and clothes around ‘those less fortunate’. Of course this was years and years ago, but back then a girl still knew how to rock a louis vuitton, and wasn’t afraid of a little catty play. It was in this group however, that Mercedes Topaz Waldorf met the excessively rich, extremely sought after Ben Taylor. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man, smart, funny, and tall enough that she didn’t have to look down at him when standing in spike heels from Dolce. It seemed like a match made in heaven, to be blunt. Unfortunately however, they were seniors and their high school romance didn’t last long. Mercedes was off to fashion school in Paris once they were finished with their high school roots, and Ben was pushing towards Harvard or Yale. It was heartbreaking to watch him go, But Mercedes knew that it was the right thing to do and that if he really was the man for her, he’d find her. And find her he did. One night when walking the few blocks there were between the school and the penthouse suite she’d bought for herself in France, she noticed a horse and buggy outside her building that appeared to be made of gold. Outside it were two trumpet playing men that looked as though they’d come from the midevil times, and one spoke with a loud English drawl. ‘hear ye, hear ye. May princess Mercedes Harold please step forward.’ She couldn’t believe this. Princess? Had her highly bred mother failed to share something with her? Was she really royalty? As she stepped into the carriage however, she immediately realized what all this was about and began to cry, collapsing into Ben’s arms. He proposed right then and there, offering up the biggest diamond ring the twenty one year old had ever seen. Though she wasn’t too keen on being married right that second, she took it excitedly and before she knew what was happening, was trying on ivory dresses with her mother and soon to be mother in law. They were gorgeous gowns, but as she looked in the mirror all she could do was frown. She knew she didn’t want this, but was going ahead with it anyhow against her heart. She’d pay for it in the long run.

After the lavish wedding the two shared, Ben and Mercedes ran off to Italy for their honeymoon. He told her he’d give her whatever she wanted, and she truly felt as though she’d married into royalty. Back home they bought a 19 million dollar estate, and as she was away she was having a top designer decorate the interior the way she wanted it. Although she was turning into her mother she was beginning to realize how exciting the high society was, and was willing to devote her life to being one of the women of the ‘high court’. This meant raising a pristine family, volunteering for social events and and pretending to care about charities for children. Ben seemed to be thinking the same thing as they immediately started trying to get the woman pregnant, resulting in a winning run right away. She couldn’t believe some women didn’t know when they were pregnant for several months as she knew right away before even taking the tests, and it was a strange yet calming feeling. The two of them called all their family and friends right at that moment to give them the good news, and a party was immediately thrown to celebrate. Everyone was hoping it would be a well bred female. Mercedes secretly wished for a girl as well, as she wanted so badly to bring up a lovely daughter with a keen fashion sense. After all, her clothing line was about to hit the runway for the first time, and if her daughter didn’t like her asian-esque style, everything would probably be all for nothing. She couldn’t have that. On August 7th the woman was in the large kitchen of the estate eating breakfast and watching the small flat screen television that had been installed in their fridge when she felt a hard contraction before her water broke all over herself, the chair and the floor. She sprung up from where she was sitting and began rushing around, calling Ben and begging him to get out of the office to take him to the hospital. He said he’d be there later, and a limo was almost immediately outside to pick her up. She didn’t really care at that point, thrusting herself inside the limo and hightailing it to the hospital. Dallas Pashmina Taylor was born the next morning at 2:34, to a very proud mother. No one else was there though. Ben had never shown. Was this a growing pattern? Mercedes was scared to find out.

Even in her young life, Dallas was spoiled rotten. Literally. In baby form, she already had a walk in closet with what seemed like thousands of outfits and pairs of shoes. When she outgrew those, more designers were called to create custom baby wear for the ‘princess.’ That was what she was known as around the city anyhow, the princess of the Taylor castle. The high life’s around her expected her to grow up to be identical to her mother in every way, even when she was just from the womb. Ben didn’t pay much attention to her, only helping his wife out at night time when she was far too tired to even think about getting up from bed. Both of their jobs had been stressful but were working out, and they wanted to give their daughter and themselves absolutely everything in the world so they kept working hard at what they did and loved. Dallas seemed to grow overnight, from a tiny baby to a toddler, reaching five years old in what felt like five minutes. She loved wearing impressive little gowns and having her hair curled by her mother, dreaming of becoming a debutaunte one day on her journey into womanhood. She had everything a little girl could ever dream for; a pony, a room of pink, and more clothes and shoes then the common store had in stock. Everything was designer, everything far overpriced. But anything for little Dallas. She became accustomed to coming home to find new outfits laid out on her bed for her, gifts daily from her parents and the parents of her friends who only dreamed of having a girl so high up the social ladder at such a young age. Sure it was prestigious, but it was simply how things worked in this backwards world. She didn’t really even mind being left behind constantly with the nanny who’s name was Sofia, as she could just lock herself in her huge room and pretend she was anything she wanted to be. A princess, a fairy, the star of a show. She loved dressing up before her mirror and going off into her own little world, but of course would never let her parents know of this fact with fear that they would find her weird and would make her stop. She grew up doing this, reaching the years where she could finally attend school and going through the first all the way to sixth grades with ease. She was popular and rich, her amount of family money exceeding that of every other kid in her private school posse. They were the IT girls, the ones everyone wanted to be. And that would never change, would it?

Finally, it was time for middle school. She’d heard about such a thing before, and though she could have chosen to take the two years at her familiar private school, Dallas wanted something more. To get away from the highlife, the balls and dinner parties. She wanted to go away to boarding school for a while. Just until high school rolled around of course, but long enough to get her twelve year old head on straight. Her parents found this to be a strange yearn for such a young female who’d never really been away from her family before, however they decided that they’d let her go with her wishes and off she went. When she arrived in Las Angeles, the place where this school subsided, she couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, looking more like a castle then a school at all. Young girls dressed in pristine uniforms just like hers walked around with huge bags slung over their shoulders and rolling suitcases behind them, chatting about their summers away. She couldn’t believe such a place even existed. She felt nothing but safety there, and as she made her way to her dorm she dreamed of meeting a group of girls just like the ones she had back home. And that she did. The girl she was sharing rooms with was just as rich as her, explaining that her mother was a supermodel and her father a famous producer. They immediately hit it off and were attached at the hip. Her name was Shilo. She introduced Dallas to her group of close friends and they nearly took over the all girls school overnight, their perfect hair sweeping over their shoulders and louis heels leaving marks in the cement. Think they were too young to be dressed in such womanly shoes? Think again, mon cherie. You’re never too young for high fashion. So the girl stomped over every other with her posse of friends in spike heels and paraded her way to the top of her class, showing off her shiny plaque whenever she got the chance. She graduated with honors and really, really early recommendations for collages, and when she got home her parents acted as though they hadn’t seen her in thirty years. There was a party thrown in her name to welcome her back, and the fourteen year old girl was already beginning to look nearly twice her age, blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Her mother and father were so proud of her. But was she proud of herself? This question was hard to answer, but often asked to herself by this beauty queen of less then seventeen. Was this life really what she wanted? And if it wasn’t, what did she want? Maybe it was be easiest to play it safe and grow up the way her mother wanted her to, but that wasn’t what she was hoping for. She wanted more.

Highschool came quickly. The most shocking thing about the whole transition was how everyone got split up, some going to more prestigious high schools overseas while others dropped out of the private program altogether. Dallas however was sent to the one near her home, the place her mother and father had gone to. It was a top ranked private school, giving her good things to put on her collage resume. She was a smart girl anyhow and believed that she could probably get into collage on her own but her parents insisted that beauty was work enough for her. This caused her to become very confused, and very angry. Before she knew what was happening she was being swept away from her world. She met some girls who were smoking long French cigarettes in the bathroom, and was asked if she wanted one. When peer pressure caused her barriers to give way she tried it, and ended up liking it. Smoking became her first bad habit, followed by alcohol and the odd joint here and there. She was rebelling from her parents, who didn’t understand her sudden defiant behavior. She no longer wanted to dress up and go to their fancy balls, and when she was forced to she’d act out there and make a fool of herself and the family’s name. She didn’t care though, in her glossy eyes it was obvious that her world cared too much about appearences, and not enough about the people underneath. It was unfair to judge people on how much money they had for there was plenty of good people in the world who had nothing. This was basically when she made her decision. No one could control her, she was basically an adult. Her parents had basically said screw you to her and had turned their backs on their only daughter in an attempt to save their reputations, so clad with a golden visa and a suitcase full of clothes she took off. Her parents called her cellphone to make sure she was alright and when she said she was they didn’t really seem to care much that she was gone. Maybe it came as a relief to them? She stayed within her local area however renting a flat on her own and met some interesting girls from the west side that she befriended. They taught her how to play the drums and she was crummy at first but before she knew It she was schooling basically everyone on the instrument. She was virtually unstoppable, and she liked the feeling of having power. Her unlimited access to money through her credit card gave her the freedom to buy the whole band which was later named Perfect Match Up’s instruments, and they were swept into popularity like a feather into the wind. Now, she resides on a lavish buss with her friends, not really knowing where life is going to take her next, but loving the feeling with all her heart. It’s better to be reckless.

NAME Dakota.
AGE a million.
EXPERIENCE lots.
OTHER CHARACTERS ansley aaron Richie.
THE MAGIC WORD -admin edit-
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE
BEING

[/color] literally the queen of gossip, Ansley knew basically everything. This wasn’t an understatement either, he was actually very educated when it came to the world around him and more specifically the people in it. It was like another one of the duties of his job, getting his nose in other’s people’s lives. That was actually one of the reasons he was ignoring Lennox, because he knew far too much about him to find him even interesting anymore. Any gossip that was released to the media seemed to be run by Ansley first, only the juiciest morsels being seen by the public eye. But he still got a hold of the things that sometimes didn’t make the cut, like exact ‘private’ conversations between people. That was why he could quote most beings that attempted to challenge him when he was going about freaking them out and letting them stumble and fall on their own. It was an easy way to bring what looked like a brick wall down, allowing him to continue to detonate a path to his ultimate victory, a time he dreamed of. When everyone realized that they were utterly powerless to him, and just surrendered. Unfortunately though, there were still tons of haters floating around in the crowds that flooded the streets each day and it was up to him to search and destroy. One at a time. As time consuming as it was, it was usually worth it in the end when they bowed their heads, tucked their tails between their legs and ran. Meanwhile, he’d stand with his arms crossed in a bored fashion, contemplating what he wanted to do next. It was almost like he didn’t have a conscience. Didn’t care weather what he did hurt someone or not, as long as he got his main point across. He never felt bad when he found that he’d actually dashed someone’s self confidence on the jagged rocks that were his words, simply figuring they should suck it up and try harder to please him the next time around. Even his family was manipulated like this, eventually being wrapped around his fingers like expensive diamond rings. He’d manipulated his way into his father’s brain years ago, landing him with millions of dollars at his dispense. Translation; he could shop ‘till he literally dropped. Of course though, these riches were never enough so he continued to push society for more. More money, more worship, more everything. He just wanted to be the center of everyone’s attention, the apple of their eyes. Was that too much to ask? He huffed like it was absurd, which in reality to him it was. The definition of ‘too much’ for Ansley was asking a thousand people to saw their own feet off and having them actually obey his command. As much as he’d enjoy that, he probably wouldn’t do that. Probably. He tapped his fingernails on the cushy arm of the couch, pursing his lips in thought. Maybe if he claimed to be the next Jesus Christ he’d get the Christian union on his side. It wasn’t like it was a total lie, seeing as he was just as good if not better, and obviously way hotter then Jesus ever was. Weather or not they’d believe him was a different story, but he wasn’t about to do anything at all that could bruise his ego or damage his reputation among millions. He figured as long as he kept doing what he was doing he’d be fine, or better then fine. Either way he was pretty contempt. In a way he wished the world still ran how it used to, what with emperors and queens and kings and whatnot. Sure, there was the queen of England but she was nothing but an old hag, desperately needing to be ripped from the throne and buried alive with the rest of her ancient ‘royal family.’ Either that, or they could hand over the crowned jewels to someone who really deserved them. He was already queen of the beautifuls anyhow, so why not Canada and England as well? Not that he wanted Canada, seeing as people from there had always gotten on his royal nerves. It was simple to ignore them though, seeing as they were way up in the north with their polar bears and green peace, while he was all over the map spreading word of himself. Sweeping nations with his fake eyelashes. Scaring little kids into lifelong nightmares. He loved seeing their faces when he walked into a room, wide eyes and pointing fingers. Their curiosity would cause mothers to become uncomfortable, wishing he would just leave. That was the problem though, he wouldn’t. Nothing in the world would make Ansley drop everything he’d built to leave his post forever, letting down those who truly did worship him. He wouldn’t have any of that nonsense. For the rest of his days he’d be romping around in eight inch heels, smiling as those imbeciles keeled over with envy. Was being beautiful such a crime?

ALTHOUGH he made himself come across as the perfect human, untainted by the words and scowls he sometimes received, Ansley’s journey hadn’t been a joyful walk in the park. He pretended like it was though, all fun and games and lavish luxury all mixed into one. Sometimes though, when he was sure that he was on his own and no one was around to catch a glimpse of him, he would really think about all that he’d been through. All the hardships where he’d had to push himself to get by. The times when he was ready to collapse but continued to move along, forming the fierce individual he was that very day. That was his philosophy. Pain was beauty, and beauty could only really come from pain. Consider it this way. To get the perfect body, it requires gruelling hours of working out and pushing your body to the limit, blisters forming on seemingly every surface. But eventually, calluses heal over the open wounds and the muscle pain goes away, and you’re left with a seemingly flawless body. He’d learned that nothing was ever as bad as it seemed, and he could always bounce back from each and every thing with a smile on his face, and his middle finger poised in the upright position. Because honestly, if they thought they were too good for him, they obviously weren’t worth his time. Or anyone’s, for that matter. No one was too good for them, another valuable lesson he’d learned. He had so many things on them, it wasn’t even funny. For one, he was gorgeous as opposed to the bland and boring looks of everyone around him. Secondly, he was fierce and knew how to drop it, whatever ‘it’ may be. Bombs, pants, anything really. And thirdly, he was filthy stinking rich, and whoever said money cant buy happiness was a dumb bitch, and obviously had never met the infamous Ansley Richie. And anyone who hadn’t met, or at least known of him was living under a rock. Basically, his fame had skyrocketed to a point where if you hadn’t heard of him you knew absolutely nothing about the modern day whatsoever. Someone had actually told him more people knew who he was then Madonna, and he wouldn’t doubt it for a second. That old hag was a dumb bitch who basically stripped on stage so fourteen year old masturbation guru’s could whack off to near-crotch shots. A sell out, to be completely blunt. He hates those types. Sure, some may say his music was stupid and pointless but at least some washed up has-been was writing it for him, telling him how they wanted to sing it then recording his voice in a way that made him sound less like himself. At least he didn’t lip sing with all the other pop diva’s, stumbling around in heels they couldn’t handle after one too many pre-show margaritas. He was an original, and that was all that really mattered to him and his fans. That he was setting a good example for them. He didn’t want an army of clones of him marching around the streets, he wanted his younger followers to discover themselves and who they really were with his help. Everyone could be fierce, they just had to find it within themselves. That was why he was so judgemental of most, either because they were just plain hideous and couldn’t be saved or they were putting on a face that wasn’t really theirs. He had a good eye for these people, and knew exactly who was doing such a thing. They thought they wanted to be one way, when in reality their sights were set on something totally different for their appearance. He didn’t hide himself under all the makeup, he enhanced himself using it and if that was his niche, what made him feel good, then so be it. Clearly someone who was ‘hiding’ as so many would call it wouldn’t be so confident in themselves. He’d rather puke up his breakfast then go back to the days when he was constantly checking himself, always unsure. Always worried about the thoughts of others. What did they matter anymore? What were they going to do, throw the same lame-ass comments every other Brittany wannabe did? So be it. Bring on the horse and pony show. He’d come armed and ready for a battle so fierce it’d make front page of the New York Times for three weeks straight, after that being featured on the cover of every magazine for a decade and a half. When he wanted to, he could be the baddest bitch in the pack. Everyone knew that. That was why few messed with him, because it was scary when Ansley Richie showed his claws. Often when he did, scenesters turned on their heels and ran for their lives. Who would mess with the princess?

EZRA was clearly getting annoyed with him, and Ansley being himself clearly didn’t care. He did nothing but ignore the other, pretending to check out his nails as if he’d just got them done, crossing his leg over the other in a prim fashion. Of course it wasn’t like he was required to be this stand-offish or anything, he just knew how much it irritated the other, which was quite humorous to him. He shuffled around quite a bit, even going as far as grabbing the discarded magazine Ansley had finished reading and throwing it in the fire place. He rolled his eyes at this point, as the realization dawned on him that this creature was no better then an eight year old. Did he constantly need someone babysitting him, like his little sister or mother? That was how it looked, and he certainly wasn’t being dumped with the daunting task of keeping this grown man from throwing a tantrum. Unfortunately though, just as he was about to have him escorted off the premises, he heard the other speaking anger filled words that actually caused his serious expression to break to a taunting smile, a few chuckles leaving his perfectly painted lips. But wait, there was more. Before long he could smell morning breath and could feel it hitting his paper white skin, grimacing and wondering if he could schedule in a facial alongside the rest of the things he was getting done. He made a mental note to remind himself of this when the masseuse came to get him, then turned his face to look at the fuming yet burnt out dragon beside him. Without saying a word, he came up with a much better idea in record time. Casually and calmly in a completely composed manner, he stood from where he was seated, making his way over to a smiling woman in white that had obviously come in to fetch him. He whispered a few unknown words to her before moving back to the couch, grabbing onto Ezra by the ear in the same fashion his mother had earlier, and dragging him to the room where they were asked to strip and put towels over their waists. Ansley retreated into one of the privacy stalls to do so, coming back out and laying down own the table. He smiled up at Ezra, a close-mouthed smile that suggested how much better he was then the other. How much more clever. After a while two massage therapists entered in their white outfits, motioning for the black haired male to get ready and get on the table to they could start. They locked the door behind them as to not be disturbed, and one moved to begin on Ansley’s back. He started between the shoulder blades and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax into the male’s touch. It was obvious by the way the two white robed beings looked at each other that they knew exactly who both Ansley and Ezra were, and kept quiet about it nonetheless. This place was indeed a lot nicer then he’d anticipated. Very professional. He just hoped Ezra was having as much fun as he was. Not.
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