open your eyes and just breatheTHIS IS IT, THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALLgretchen sophia holiday" THERE'S A VILLAIN IN ME, SO SEXY, SOUR & SWEET, & YOU'LL BE LOVING IT. "
the thought, i bet, of life after death
IT HASN'T OCCURRED YOU COULD BE WRONG
FULL NAME: gretchen sophia holiday.
NICKNAMES: does she look like she wants them? and no, psychobitch does not count!
AGE: twenty two.
BIRTHDATE: november eleventh, nineteen ninety five.
COUNTRY REPRESENTING: canada - she's a vancouver native.
ETHNICITY: canadian, german, and italian.
EDUCATION: from a very young age she attended private school after private school, long days with even longer sessions with tutors after she got home when she was diagnosed with dyslexia in the fourth year.
SPORT: snowboard - halfpipe.
COACHED BY: shaun white.
HEALTH: not "technically" a health problem, but she has dyslexia.
let's make the best of a bad situation
A SECOND GUESS COULD MAKE A MESS OF YOUR LIFE
HEIGHT: five feet, even.
WEIGHT: one hundred and twenty pounds.
EYES: really green.
HAIR: reddish - brown.
PIERCINGS OR TATTOOS: her ears are pierced, but that's all. and incredibly unexciting.
OTHER: as goes the sport, gretchen has more than a couple of bones that ache when it rains - most noticeably, her nose, which has grown quite off center after a total of eight breaks since the age of seven.
STYLE: it'd be hard to pin down one specific style "type" for gretchen. she likes what she likes and wears what she wants. heels are a bit of a must for her, though, and she has an infatuation with shorts, making her quite the sight when she's standing around the slopes, getting into shouting matches with her coach and media and other snowboarders before she changes for a practice run.
PLAY BY: shantel vansanten.
you'll be kicking yourself in the end
FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS DIE ALONE
- control control control.
- driving cars.
- being alone.
- being the center of attention.
- drugs, sex, partying.
- fire, lighters, candles.
- "far away" from wherever she is at any given time.
- toast, pancakes, cinnamon rolls - breakfast food, basically.
- people people people people.
- not being in control.
- reading, books, school.
- people telling her what is and what isn't important.
- talking to people.
- airplanes & boats.
- taking pills or medicine of any kind, no matter how sick she is.
- being compared to anyone. ever. ( especially her coach )
- anything that she views as "weak," which tends to change from second to second.
- her poise under criticism - her determination at never being caught caring about something has helped her gain the titled of ice queen. there are several other nicknames for her, but those aren't allowed to be said by the media, so ice queen became her calling card.
- when gretchen decides that something is worth her time, she throws herself into it wholeheartedly. she's dedicated, and has the sort of drive that pushes her to do whatever it takes to be the very best.
- at the age of eighteen, gretchen was diagnosed as a sociopath. while it is a serious problem, she happily surrounds herself with it, in every part of her life - it's in the things she says to the media, the way she conducts herself in practice sessions, and the sort of music she listens to as she wins golds medals.
- there's a lot about the world that gretchen will never understand. she's not stupid, her mind is simply twisted in a way that allows her to perceive certain things and for other things to simply fly in one ear and out the other.
- despite her hatred for shows of emotion (positive or negative) gretchen lacks the ability to hide anything. she's notoriously unhinged, and known for her outbursts of any range of emotions.
- violent outbursts - it's a wonder that she hasn't been suspended for an entire season yet; she's lucky to have a team of people dedicated to keep her from not getting dq'd.
- there are many days when she'll eat breakfast food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. no one can explain it, and people stopped questioning it after she came frighteningly close to stabbing a maid with a breakfast fork.
- children. people in general make gretchen want to go on a killing spree, but children especially set her off. she finds them disgusting and irritating and she wants nothing to do with them.
- weakness. gretchen hates it, and views people that have them as pathetic, although she has them herself. it wouldn't be so bad, if she didn't view such extreme (or unextreme) things as weaknesses - everything from missing a recently dead parent to being allergic to a certain food drive her up the wall.
- any form of transportation where she isn't behind the control panel. a control freak, she gets angry and insulted when someone else is in control. it's a form of fear, but that simply doesn't make the connection in her mind.
- losing control. no, not of a situation, like before, because gretchen lives quite comfortably in chaos. instead, she has a deep rooted fear of her own sociopathy. she's always been secretly worried that one day she'll be incapable of keeping control of herself, and then she'll be just as weak as all of the people that she despises so deeply.
- gretchen gave up on thinking about the future a long time ago and doesn’t have all that many long-term goals. goals imply enthusiasm or desire, neither of which she possesses in any great amount. she lives in the moment and pays little heed to the question of what lies ahead, although such a mental state can be dangerous in the sports world.
- morals? nonexistent. it is practically the definition of a sociopath not to have morals, and she lives up to it. gretchen doesn't give a damn about anyone except herself and won't - has never - hesitated to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. and on the rare occasion that she didn't get what she wanted, then she made sure that she got revenge. she has experimented with drugs in the past - she still does, really - and requires a coach with a very tight hold on her when the season comes around to keep her from continuing.
when push comes to love, i won't give in
I WON'T HOLD BACK TO PUSH YOU THROUGH
FATHER: fitzgerald holiday. fifty five. ceo of wallenius-wilhelmsen shipping. he and gretchen don't have a relationship. there's a mutual hatred and uncaring towards each other.
MOTHER: lydia (montini) holiday. fifty three. unemployed. she and gretchen don't have a relationship. there's a mutual hatred and uncaring towards each other.
gretchen holiday was supposed to be a boy. if she were able to remember that far back, which is, you know, impossible, she'd know that that was the first thing her parents said when she was born, right after the doctor announced that lydia holiday - nee montini - had given birth to a girl. the phrase was repeated countless times when she was growing up, rarely when she was actually in her parents' company; usually over the phone would come a underhanded, scoffed, "you were supposed to be a boy, gretchen. you're lucky we even kept you." the phrase always made gretchen laugh, because maybe they had "kept" her, but just barely. she was raised, pretty much, buy paid employees. at the start is was nannies, attentive but distant, but as she grew up, they fell away and gave way to the sort of people that had more to worry about than strictly taking care of her - maids, housekeepers, cooks, dog walkers, and so on and so forth. they were paid to keep the household running in order, and knew that gretchen, even at the young age of six, could jeopardize that simple order for them, and they learned that it was simply easier to give in to her desires. so from a very young age, gretchen learned the simple way of life: want, take, have.
school was never of much importance to her, not ever. she always struggled through it, and though her teachers suggested it from the start, her parents refused to have her tested for any sort of learning disability until she was in her fourth year and couldn't read or long divide any better than a first grader. her mother faxed in the permission slip for the tests from somewhere in the united states - florida, probably - and signed off on the form that said that their daughter had dyslexia. the only sign that she'd read it at all was the fact that she'd circled the word daughter each time it came up. anyway, from that point on, after six hours of schooling, gretchen would return home for another three hours of teaching from a private tutor. not much came of it except for more shouting matches that the kitchen staff would drown out with the kitchen radio, and little improvement in terms of grades. since pre-grades, gretchen's relationships have never done much better. her need for control started at a young age, and she was never interested in friendships. when she was pushed into it by teachers, she was always more interested in controlling the other person than getting to know them. she had never bothered much with dating, though one night stands were plentiful from the start of her secondary school days. still, the fact that she couldn't form a relationship made them even more elusive and fascinating - she liked to see how far she could push couples until they broke up, how much supposed "bonds" could take. she rose to a sort of infamy in the school, and though she wasn't always liked, she was accepted as a bit of a leader, in terms that people would do what she said because they feared her more than anything. and that was always enough for her.
the largest part of school had been ski club. more than half of the school would be enrolled at any one time, from the age of eight and onward until their graduation. gretchen, for once, was no exception. she started of on skis, until she was ten, and discovered snowboarding. it was anything but an immediate love affair. she didn't like being in the air. the loss of control made her want to light the board on fire, but at the same time, the all consuming need for control that she had drove her onward to learn to gain such control. soon, it developed into a full fledged obsession. the refusal to fall, and the constant pushing at herself to land it every time. she might not be able to control the consistency of the snow, but she could overcome such a distraction. it was petty, anyway. she was soon blowing off her tutor in favor of heading out to the slopes every day, pushing herself as far as she could possibly go. she watched the olympics for the first time in 2010, at the age of fifteen. hometown pride, if she'd cared about where she lived at all. she figured that she'd watched in 2006, but could barely remember it. or maybe she did: there had to have been a reason she'd started snowboarding. either way, the first time she really honestly remembers taking notice of snowboarding as an olympic sport was in 2010; namely, shaun white. of course, for someone as sno-bsessed as she had become, his name was more than familiar, and she had since gone back and re watched his 2006 gold medal run, and had decided that, yes, that was why she had picked up the board with her "goofy" stance all those years ago. anyway. she decided then that she would go to the olympics. end of story. she'd do whatever it took.
he was twenty seven, fresh out of his third straight gold medal ceremony. she was eighteen, not - as - fresh - as - she'd - like from the plane to russia, having refused to miss white's third olympics. no one had expected him to stay in the sport that long, much less excel at it. but he had, and they had managed to, somehow, run into each other at an after party. gretchen pegged it off to being a snowboarder – like it or not, they thought alike. she’d tapped him on the shoulder, and it had taken his… substance filtered mind a second, but recognition had dawned on his face. “you’re holiday, right?” she’d been on the world circuit for two years by this time, but they’d met only months before russia, at some sort of board launching. she leaned forward – “wanna get out of here?” – and he’d laughed her off, asking how old she was. “call me when you’re nineteen, at the very least,” it was unacceptable, but gretchen was as flexible as the next snowboarder and could roll with it. where sex scandal had failed, she’d made drug and partying scandal work for her. the following weeks, which should have been celebration of the states’ excellent showing at the games were marred by a series of photos that were released of the us snowboarding team’s exploits at the games, white strangely missing. the negatives had wound up at his house though – any photos of him were missing, again – along with a short note. i want gold, scrawled above her phone number. three months later, the press caught wind that shaun white had taken up coaching (a canadian) gretchen holiday. the very fact that he called her and didn't simply have her brought up on blackmail charges in an out of court case that kept both of their names out of the press was, simultaneously, a let down and a high point for gretchen. she'd expected him to fight more, less about giving in, and more about getting what he wanted, which was clearly not to coach her. regardless, it was an uneasy partnership from the very beginning – for white, anyway. gretchen still can’t figure out why he was always so grumbly, it wasn't becoming of a three time olympic gold medalist - but, as the coming months would show, a golden one.
now, three - almost four! - years later, with the olympics speeding towards her, gretchen couldn't be more in her element. while the rest of the world has been thrown into chaos getting ready for the games, painting the last venues and polishing their last couple of tricks, gretchen is simply letting the hurricane take her where it will. she's not certified for the games yet, but she's one of the top riders in the world, and believes herself to be getting better each day. and even if she can't fine-tune the tricks that white had rushed to teach her after another one of their blowups that had left gretchen without a coach for about a week and a half, "hey, if you go to the olympics and make an idiot of yourself, i'll look bad," or so he'd claimed when he showed up outside her house at about four thirty in the morning to drag her out for a run, she can make sure that her fellow competitors aren't in the right mindset to do so.
be aggressive, be be aggressive
BE AGGRESSIVE, BE BE AGGRESSIVE
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE: two years? around there.
TIME ZONE: eastern standard!
CODE WORD: ACCEPTED!
|To say that Colton Checca wasn't handling the death of his brother well would be an understatement. Whoever said that 'time heals all' obviously had never lost anyone, and Colton felt the strongest urge to shoot them. It'd been a while since he'd literally seen his brother get ripped apart by hellhounds, enough time to let it sink in fully that Kolbie wasn't coming back this time. It was like the mystery spot all over again except Colton knew he couldn't just wake up from this one. The extent of his pain reached a lot farther then anyone could understand. Bobby tried. And maybe he had gotten the closest and that wasn't saying much. Colton just wanted to be alone, rot in his own sorrows like he should have to. He'd been the one who had ultimately caused the death of his brother, no matter what anyone told him. Colton knew that that was the truth and it was hard to take. Guilt was a lot harder to ignore then the pain of a loss. Drowning himself most nights, in whatever crap motel room he stayed at, in whiskey or something of that nature, Colton was starting to lose grip on remembering what being sober actually felt like.|
Having never been much of a drinker except for the occasional beers with Kolbie, it was an interesting twist being so dependent on a substance to ease his pain, and if it didn't do that it at least knocked him out so he didn't have dream while he slept. The nightmares were the worst. Colton pulled the Impala up to the side of the road, having no clue how'd he'd even managed to do that and not hit anything. It felt wrong being in the drivers seat with no Kolbie sleeping in the passenger seat or breathing over his shoulder about handling his baby with caution. The very memory of that made Colton's head and throat ache with longing for one more drink though it was clear he'd had more than enough. It'd never been in his nature to be reckless, he was a thinker, one who figured out ways to fix things by careful planning and accuracy. Some attributes that had made him a good counterpart to his big brother. But none of those attributes had saved Kolbie in the end. Why should he use them now? What was the point? If he died on a hunt it wasn't like it'd truly matter.
Colton opened the drivers side door of the car and leaned his hand on the handle until he got the feeling in his legs to stagger out of the seat and onto the pavement. His knees hit the ground as he fell out of the car but he managed to pull his large body up and shut the door. Squinting at where he was, Colton swayed on his feet and held out his hands in front of him, as if willing the ground to stop moving, the world to stop spinning. The youngest of the Checca slowly moved forward and up towards the front door of the house he had parked in front of. He had no clue how he'd ended up here, why he'd come here. Why hadn't he just gone and grabbed a motel room instead of driving from the bar in the next town over to Houston. Colton's head spun and he had to clamp his eyes shut for a moment to get a grip enough to keep walking until he made it to the front door. Beccas house. He was too drunk to be ashamed of barging in on her this late a night. And way way to hammered to even realize it was nearing midnight and he was probably gonna wake her up. But even in his drunken delierium, Colton understood he needed help.
Why he thought the woman carrying his unborn niece of nephew would be the one to do that was beyond him. Colton gripped at the wall to keep his massive form upright and leaned his shoulder against the door frame as he knocked his knuckles against the door. She had a dog, and he was pretty sure the huge animal would attack him this late at night, no matter if he knew him or not. Sliding down the wall, Colton sat down, the world continuing to spin horribly. Shit. If everything would just stop flipping spinning maybe he could think. Gather up his thoughts enough to create a coherent sentence for Becca if she opened the door. Colton let his hands flop lazily into his lap as he pulled his jacket tighter around him and zipped it up to keep out the night air that he could suddenly feel sinking into his bones. Letting his head lull to the side, Colton shut his eyes for a brief moment, wondering if he could just stay out here. Getting back up and moving towards the Impala to even climb into the backseat and sleep there was a no. Going down those porch stairs would be hell. And the more that he tried to squint and see the black muscle car in the darkness, the more he realized he couldn't focus enough to do so.
this was created by HANNAH! of d.i.g. lyrics belong to these hearts. no stealing, or she'll shank you!