O'SULLIVAN, poppy

[poppy o'sullivan]

Application


{ you know you could've been a wonder


character’s name Poppy O’Sullivan
gender Female
discipline Music - Piano
age Seventeen
sexuality Straight


{ comes home on call, isn't that peace,


history
The story about Poppy’s birth is not particularly exciting or newsworthy. Just another baby girl being born to a newly married couple. The mother, a beautiful red-headed jazz singer struggling to make ends meet. The father, a handsome dark-haired professional violin player. It was a rainy march morning, and the labor was short and there were no complications at all. When Langston O’Sullivan held his only daughter for the first time, he didn’t notice her tufts of strawberry hair, or the murky blue eyes all babies were born with. No, he noticed her hands. Big for a brand new baby girl, with long delicate fingers. Pressing a kiss against her forehead, Langston looked up at his wife, Martina and declared ‘She’s going to be a piano player.’

The first couple years of Poppy’s life went by in a blur of birthday parties, piano recitals and watching her parent’s play at gigs. Whether it was a smoky pub, where she leaned against her father and drifted off asleep. Or the auditorium where she would be buzzing with excitement as she watched the orchestra her father was part of, perform. Poppy was a sunny child, with a smile that could light up her entire neighborhood. She was easy to get a long with, and never had a problem with other kids or sharing or anything like that. In a way, the O’Sullivan’s were blessed that they were born with such a low-maintenance child because as Poppy continued to grow and develop, her father began to deteriorate.

Poppy’s mother had always informed her that her father, Langston was a very moody man. But the year that Poppy turned five, things took a change for the worse. Langston’s teacher and mentor passed away from a brain tumor, which put him in a place of extreme stress. That’s what the Doctors believed trigged the bipolar. Suddenly, Langston found himself in a deep depression, so bad that some days he couldn’t get out of bed, or look his wife or daughter in the eye. So bad that Martina had to drown the house out with music, so Poppy couldn’t hear her father sobbing upstairs. The manic part, was just as bad, if not worse than the depression. He composed a lot on those days. And the frantic, frenzied sounds of his violin still gave Poppy nightmares to this day. On those days, he’d clean like a madman, yelling at her if she made the smallest of messes. He’d suffer from insomnia and on some nights when Poppy retreated from her bedroom to get a glass of water, she’d see him organizing their cupboards or closets, or sometimes just staring out a window with a vacant expression on his face.

As time went on Poppy and Martina adjusted their lives around Langston’s condition. Poppy loved her father unconditionally, despite his illness. She knew it wasn’t his fault and was always very patient and gentle with him. Despite Langston’s neurotic state, his daughter’s presence in his life had always been very calming. Hearing her play piano lifted his heart even on the darkest days. The O’Sullivan’s were able to make it work, but Langston lost his job with the orchestra he played with. With no viable income, it was up to Martina to support her family. When she was asked to come teach at Julliard, she jumped immediately at the chance and the family moved to New York when Poppy was thirteen.

Her early teenage years weren’t full of rebellion. Her mother had enough stress on her, and Poppy never felt the need to engage in wild behavior. Which was quite unbelievable, in a city like New York someone could get in a lot of trouble. It was a beautiful place and Poppy loved it, the hustle and the bustle appealed to her, although she often found herself lost in the swarms of people that crowded the sidewalks. But when it was time for her to go to High school her father called her into his room and made a proposition to her. He wanted her to go away, and not because he didn’t want her there, no it was nothing like that. Langston felt guilty for depriving his daughter of a typical teenage life. He felt that if he went to school away, she wouldn’t have to look after him the way she did. Poppy was reluctant, but she was never one to turn down a new opportunity, especially when she found out that she had been accepted into Hoffman Academy, a prestigious arts school back in London. Although her parents had been hoping she’d go to school in like Connecticut, not another continent they were still supportive of her decision to enroll. Both of Poppy’s parents being musicians they knew what a big deal this was.

Secretly Poppy was relieved to go back to London. She had loved New York, but it never felt like home. She permanently felt like a tourist. London was where she belonged full stop. But the transition to Hoffman was a little hard on her, not skill-wise but socially. The music was fine, it was fantastic actually. Piano had always been the one constant in her life. No matter how unpredictable her life got, she could always rely on the stability of music. So she poured herself into her music even more when she first arrived at Hoffman, seeing as she hadn’t really made any friends yet. Everything seemed so divided up into cliques it was hard for her to find her place.

Eventually she did, but it wasn’t easy. She still wasn’t very rebellious, even for a teenager. The only time she went to a nightclub was to dance, and the only time she went to a bar was to listen to music. She was a cheap drunk so she tended to stay away from alcohol and parties in general. Poppy hated the feeling of waking up and not remembering what embarrassing acts you may have committed the night before. Hated it. And anyways, she was here on a partial scholarship seeing as her parents had money but a lot of it had to be spent on medication for her father as well as they only had Martina’s income now. So Poppy worked extra hard, she was always a little afraid of losing her spot to some trust-fund kid.



parents Langston Jonathan O’Sullivan – 45, Unemployed (former violin player)
Martina Elena O’Sullivan (nee Kerrigan) – 41, Voice teacher at Juliard
siblings None.


{ am I losin' way too much


personality
Poppy is a bit of an odd duck, or so her she’s been told. In the world we live in today, it’s hard to find someone who has their innocence fully in tact. One of Poppy’s most endearing qualities was her innocent nature. She wasn’t stupid or naive. Poppy knew what her schoolmates were like, what they did. She just didn’t have any desire to join them in their cocaine snorting, binge drinking and general whoring around. That’s what set her apart from everyone else. In a sense, Poppy was timeless. She didn’t care about fads or phases, never shopped at current stores. She hated buying something she loved and then seeing five other people wearing the same thing. It made her feel like a robot. Her defiance to conformity distanced her even further away from the majority of her peers.

Still, to the people Poppy did get a long with, she was a wonderful friend. The kind of person that you can talk to for hours on end without ever running out of something to say. She was a good listener, but more importantly she was a good talker. Poppy was in the habit of saying whatever silly thing popped into her head, which some people liked, and some people well, didn’t. She couldn’t really care less though. She didn’t live her life for other people. Because of her past, Poppy has the patience of a saint. She can deal with any thing life throws at her with the grace of someone who has seen it all before. Her patience makes her a good friend. She rarely gets in fights with friends, let alone other people. If someone is being a dick to her, she has the disposition to literally grin and bear it.

It took a lot to piss her off, or even hurt her feelings. But Poppy wasn’t unshakeable. If someone she loved, someone she trusted was nasty to her, it was hard for her to take. Especially if she wasn’t able to make excuses for them. She had trained herself to not take it personally when her father was horrible to her. She knew it wasn’t his fault. She was a sensitive girl when you got down to it. It wasn’t uncommon to walk into a room, and see her crying at someone on TV, whether it was a cheesy lifetime movie or a commercial for fabric softener. Her sensitivity and her sweetness was her weak spot. Poppy was a kind, gentle girl. A stop and sniff the flowers kind of girl. People saw that in her and sometimes exploited her kind spirit, without her even noticing. She didn’t have any kind of defense mechanism, she always put herself out there right of the bat. Whether you knew Poppy for five minutes of five years it didn’t matter. She was the same girl.

While Poppy loved a lot of things in life, music was her true, undying passion. Ever since she was a little girl it’s what Poppy knew she wanted to do with her life. Normally she’s a sweet, talkative girl but when she’s composing it’s best to leave her alone. It’s not uncommon to hear the plunking of keys and then her swearing loudly over the notes she’s trying to string together. Music is one of the only things she’s sure of, piano more specifically. She plays with a sensitivity that you don’t find often, and there is a certain grace of the movement of her long fingers and bobbing head. Poppy also sings, but is less sure of her voice as it was colored so strongly by her British accent. She also isn’t a classically trained singer, unlike with Piano which she had been learning since she was four years old.


likes Music, Tea, Lilacs, Thrift shopping, Surprises, Dirty jokes, Freedom, Family, Buying a new CD, Dropping pennies in the street so people will pick them up and have a better day, Hugs, Swearing, Rainy weather, Cute boys, Warm chocolate chip cookies, Reading, Friends, Old photographs, Strangers, Singing (as long as no one could hear), Good hair days, the feeling after you’ve done an exam, Possibilities, The Tube/Subway.
dislikes Feeling pressured, Big dogs, Growing up too fast, Not feeling good enough, Pretty girls who flirted too much with the boy you were in currently in like with, When people make fun of her accent, Funerals, Humidity, People with hairy toes, Participating in physical activity, Fads, Music without integrity, Social-Zombies (Brrrraaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiins), When people acted like they had her all figured out, Hospitals, Car horns, Failure.
ambitions Do something with her music
Fall in love
Continue to help care for her Father
Become less shy about singing
fears Dying alone (just like everyone else)
Clowns (Not really like everyone else)


{ my darling you look lovely


portrayed by? Kate Nash
eyes Dark brown
hair Auburn
height 5’3
style Poppy’s style was a mix of old-fashioned and modern, but mostly old-fashioned. She hated very fashionable clothes as she didn’t really have an interest in looking like her school mates, or anyone else for that matter. She was a champion thrift store shopper as well as compulsive internet-shopper. Most of her wardrobe was made up of vintage dresses, little cardigans, pencil skirts, blouses, whatever. On the days when she couldn’t really be bothered with dressing up too much she normally wore a pair of skinny jeans and some sort of slogan t-shirt, ones that didn’t usually apply to her, like “I Spoil my Grandkids Rotten.” Or something. Poppy always almost wore heels, being a bit on the short side she quite liked the advantage of a few extra inches.

{ and I'm telling you why


your name Millie
age I am sixteen going on seventeen!
years of roleplay Ehm 4-ish?
code sentence if you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.
other Hmmm, nope.
sample post

Poppy didn’t feel like a rock star. She wasn’t as graceful with the acclaim as her band mates. Whenever she got recognized by fans in the streets or in Starbucks when she was getting a tea, she had the horrible habit of looking back over her shoulder just to make sure there wasn’t someone else standing behind her. She had good days and bad days but it always felt surreal. Some days it felt like her life belonged to someone else, some one better. But most days it just felt like she was born to do this. Today however, wasn’t exactly one of those days. The freckled youth had spent most of the day in sound check, and felt her attention waning as time passed on. By the time it was over, Poppy felt her legs go wobbly, and every hair on her body stick up. A sure sign that an anxiety attack was about to rear it’s ugly head. So she gave a shaky smile to the band and took out of the building as fast as her little legs could carry her. They would know what was up. She always calmed down when she was outside. Thank Christ almighty for fresh air.

It wasn’t her fault, Poppy was born neurotic. It wasn’t any surprise that she had a bit of a panic disorder when you realized that it just ran in her family. Her father was bipolar and her mother was just recently diagnosed with dysthymia. It was a weird thing to consider but poppy was almost happy with her panic attacks. It could be a whole lot worse. But that was Poppy, always an optimist.

The sky was overcast, that was the first thing she noticed. A dark gray foreboding color. She tipped her head up, staring at the rolling sky was it stretched into the distance, it looked limitless. Looking at something vast always helped. It provided perspective, made Poppy feel sure about her place. Soon, she felt her breathing steady out, as she watched the clouds aimlessly drift by. Her wide doe eyes glanced back at the entrance but a cheeky smile passed over her lips and she took off jogging in the opposite direction. She had mentally catalogued that there was a park about five minutes away for stolen moments like these.

Poppy realized that even though Apple was the lead singer and well beautiful, and the boys equally so that a fair bit of fuss was made when the quirky keyboardist was spotted by fans. This was undoubtedly true. Poppy always made time for the fans. By god she’d have a cup of tea with them if her band mates wouldn’t kill her. As far as she saw it though, without them she’d be back in Uni right now, wanting to jab pencils in her eyeballs during composition class. She quite frankly fucking adored the fans. So she had earned her a reputation of signing every single bloody autograph, posing for countless pictures each time pulling a new face, just chatting with the fans for so long that the other members of the band could be heard shouting “Poppy!, Hurry the fuck up!” aggravated, as they waited for her to get on the bleeding bus. But Poppy was a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t be recognized today.

Normally she had a habit of wearing vintage dresses, with little cardigans and brightly colored tights, her auburn fringe forever obstructing her gaze, and her waves of hair tumbling over her shoulders and framing her face. Today instead her outfit consisted of a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that hugged her twiggy legs like a very old friend. A red zip-up hoodie which had probably seen better days was thrown over a navy t-shirt that clung to her petite frame adorned with cartoon gnomes on the front and the enthusiastic wording of “Go big or go Gnome!” printed across the chest. A t-shirt Poppy was particularly proud of. Her red mane of hair was twisted back in a sloppy bun and her bangs pinned up out of her eyes, so she could properly see for once.

As the park came into her view, her mega-watt smile graced her lips, but the smile grew to alarming proportions when her wide-set brown eyes landed on a swing set. Poppy was rubbish at every playground game back when she was in school. Football, tag, whatever. Swinging though, yeah that was it for her. Some people might be a little surprised to see a twenty-year old race to a swing set with such reckless abandon but Poppy would proudly tell those people to fuck off. Swing or die. Plopping down on the seat, she swayed side to side, before twirling around in a circle, twisting the chain together in a tight coil before lifting her feet of the ground and feeling herself being propelled in circles, the park becoming a blur before her eyes, as Poppy let the exclamation of ”Wheeeeeeeee.” escape from her lips before she came to a rather abrupt stop. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden stillness as she felt the familiar dizzy feeling tip everything slightly to the side.

[Razz Perkins]

ACCEPTED!

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