forum Stronger than Some // Roleplay with Crocs

Started November 01, 2019 by Deleted user

tune

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@crocssant-is-tired
Raymond Green has always been told he's special, whether in an encouraging fashion or as an insult. He has suffered from Asperger syndrome his whole life. It is a developmental disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction and nonverbal communication, along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. However, from a young age, he'd always been interested in basketball. Everyone in and out of his life was amazing by how quickly he became an elite player. By the time he was in high school, he was 6'5" and the best player in the nation. One quick year in college and he found himself in the National Basketball Association, under the biggest spotlight he'd ever experienced. The affects it had on his mental health was extreme. After only his second game, he had a panic attack in the locker room in front of several media members and his entire team. The coaching and medical staff decided that he needed a steadying presence with him off the court to keep him as stable as possible on the court. He calls the only person he ever considered a friend.

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Heyo! It is I, Headband, back with another half-baked plot! I am a huge fan of basketball and have always wanted to do a roleplay of it, but I found that there aren't many sports fans on this website. After about 2 months of racking my brain, trying to figure out how to get this to work, I came up with this. It will focus solely on the interactions between the friend and Raymond, with no basketball actually being involved in the roleplay. I would prefer the friend to be female if romance is involved. If you have any questions, just ask!

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Name:

Age:

Gender:

Height:

Weight:

Sexuality:

Appearance:

Usual Outfit:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Backstory:

Fears:

Other:

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Name: Raymond Green

Age: 20 years old

Gender: Male

Height: 6'5"

Weight: 225 lbs.

Sexuality: Straight

Appearance: He has medium length light brown hair that he slicks back every morning with gel, but it will often begin to come undone by the end of the day and falls over his face. His skin is naturally tan, even during the winter. His jawline is almost always dusted with a thin covering of hair, despite the fact he shaves every morning.

Usual Outfit: Obviously when playing basketball he wears his uniform, but off job, he typically wears a white tank top under an aviator jacket, with a pair of frayed and faded jeans and simple sneakers. (Imagine the typical 60's bad boy look)

Personality: He is a reserved, intelligent young man that has a tenancy to take things much more seriously than he should. Every move he makes is a carefully calculated decision. Due to his disability, he barely ever ventures out to make new friends, tending to stick to himself at all times.

Likes: Carefully made plans, sweet tea, and a good sport game.

Dislikes: Unnecessarily reckless actions, losing the time of day, and having a bad game

Backstory: Raymond Green has always been told he's special, whether in an encouraging fashion or as an insult. He has suffered from Asperger syndrome his whole life. It is a developmental disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction and nonverbal communication, along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. However, from a young age, he'd always been interested in basketball. Everyone in and out of his life was amazing by how quickly he became an elite player. By the time he was in high school, he was 6'5" and the best player in the nation. One quick year in college and he found himself in the National Basketball Association, under the biggest spotlight he'd ever experienced. The affects it had on his mental health was extreme. After only his second game, he had a panic attack in the locker room in front of several media members and his entire team. The coaching and medical staff decided that he needed a steadying presence with him off the court to keep him as stable as possible on the court. He calls the only person he ever considered a friend.

Fears: Acrophobia

Other: Nah

So. I have a cold and only-emotionally-available-with-people-she-is-hella-close-too orphan with gang attachements and a wicked right hook, or. I could make an sunshine child of sorts

I think the hardcore type girl would be more interesting, tbh

Name: Khione Frost

Age: 21

Gender: female

Height: 5’3

Weight: 150

Sexuality: hasn’t given it much thought, honestly

Appearance:
Eye color: An icy blue inherited from her father’s side of the family.
Hair: White. Like, shocking snow white. It’s naturally a light brown with natural blonde highlights, but she takes care to dye it for the effect. It hasn’t been cut in a bit because she’s been busy, so it’s about to the point between her shoulderblades when down, though she usually keeps it pulled up into a high ponytail.
Skin tone: A lighter olive, that tans pretty well during the summer.
Build: Inherited her mother’s Grecian curves, but they’ve been sort of packed down under the muscle she’s built up. Toned and defined in certain areas, but still can’t lose those curves.
Scars: Plenty of scars, though quite a few are smaller ones. The most notable start with the scar from a knife that just barely missed her heart, the long claw marks on her abdomen from the Shifter attack, and a circular scar on her right thigh that she refuses to talk about, that has a perfect, if slightly smaller, match on the other side of her leg. All, in fact, are ones she doesn’t want to talk about.

Usual Outfit: Prefers clothes easier for movement, swapping between dark shorts and jeans. Black tank tops are, it seems, the only shirts she owns. Usually wearing her Reapers leather jacket even now, and owns exactly one pair of combat boots and no other shoes. A hand woven rope bracelet is the only jewelry she wears other than a silver locket

Personality: Cold. There’s a reason she gained the nickname Ice Queen when she was a teen and kept it. She’s just generally an icy-person, and emotionless is her resting expression. Is fairly calm headed most of the time, but certain things and situations bring out an icy and biting anger from deep within her. Can be weirdly impulsive at times as well. Refuses to show fear or cry in front of others.

Likes: her brass knuckles, the people she considers family, the bar she works at, and secretly loves anything sweet

Dislikes: sitting still, unfamiliar people that are too invasive, shitty bar patrons, and apples

Backstory: Born to poor parents in one of the human-slums, she lived a happy life, until she was thirteen, when her parents were killed. She survived the attack, but the little girl she used to be didn’t, leaving her cold and ruthless when she needed to be. While struggling to stay alive and out of the hands of the foster care system, who would bring her to relatives she wasn’t ready to face, she was taken in by a local gang known as the Reapers. They became her family and raised her, and fully support her attempts to get into college, despite it taking a while.

Fears: dogs and canine creatures

Other: has a cat

Dope, I'll post the starter

Raymond stepped out of the locker room of the basketball arena at 11:45 at night, dressing in a simple pair of jeans, a white T-Shirt, and black sneakers. He ignored the camera flashes that seemed to come from everywhere as he walked towards the back exit, his hands in his pockets and his head down as security did its best to keep the paparazzi at bay. What Coach Perry had told him echoed in in his head as he made it into the parking lot, his heels scratching against the rough gravel at a steady pace: "Kid, you gotta find someone to keep you calm. You won't last a month in the condition you're in, much less a season. Take the next game off while you try to find the right person."

As Raymond reached his car, he slipped two things out of his left pocket: his car keys and his iPhone. The keys were switched into his right hand while he mashed the unlocked button of the keys. He pressed the On button as he slipped into the car, illuminating the small space as he entered his seven digit password. There was only one person he could really call, since Mom had gotten sick and Dad was dead. He pressed the Contact app and pressed down on the contact Khione Frost, bringing the phone up to his ear and listening to it ring.

Khione reached her ringing phone on the last ring, hitting the answer call button as she shook the tumbler in her hand. The ice blinked around as she answered, mingling with the sound of people chattering and laughing in the background. She was working the late shift, potentially stuck in ‘The Hole’ until at least three in the morning. That was when the late nighters started to trickle out, after all.

“This is Frost.” Her voice was fairly unemotional, especially considering she hadn’t bothered to look at the caller Id. Rico sometimes called this late to complain about being lonely. “Business or business business.”

"Um…." Raymond's mind went on overdrive as he tried to think of what to say. Hi? Maybe, but would that be weird? Maybe he could tell her he had a job for her, which was the truth. She would be paid by the team if she chose to do what he was asking. A good amount, too. Well, then it just feels like a bribe.

"Hey, Khione," he responded, leaning against the door slightly. The temperature inside the car was nice, so he didn't need to turn on the ignition yet. "I'm Raymond Green. We are friends."

Khione blinked, setting the newly finished drink on the counter and sliding it to the patron who’d ordered. “Raymond?” She signaled to her coworker and slipped out the door, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. “Yeah, we are friends. What’s up? You ain’t in any trouble, are you?” To most people, her tone hadn’t changed, but to someone who knew her, the tinge of worry was obvious.

"A little, I guess," he said, settling into his seat. Put of impulse, he reached over his left shoulder and buckled up, despite knowing he wouldn't be leaving until this conversation was done.

"Do you have time to talk? I know you're at work, but you're the only person I could think to call," he said, his voice as monotone as the first time they'd met.

Khione glanced back into the bar, turning fully away from it. “For you, yeah. Watcha need? Boss frowns on murder, but he’ll help cover if I ask.” She said, letting her shockingly white hair down from the ponytail it was in. It could have been a joke, but easily could have been serious. With Khione, it was hard to tell. Especially when one remembered the things she was tied up in, and her past.

"It's nothing like that," he said, completely used to her offering to kill someone. It was the thing she always said whenever he asked for help. "I had a problem in the locker room tonight. They called it a panic attack and Coach said I had to call someone."

“You’re having those again?” Khione leaned against the wall of the alley just outside the bar, the cold night air a welcome change from the almost uncomfortably warm air inside. “So, am I s’posed to help calm you down? Or…?”

Raymond rubbed his left leg as he let out a small noise. It was starting to get hot in the car.
"I'm already calm, but they want to talk to you," he explained, inserting his keys into the ignition and turning the car on. "They said they have a job for whoever I called."

"A job, huh? Are they aware I got two already?" She asked, arching an eyebrow despite the fact that he couldn't see her. Without giving him a chance to acknowledge that, she continued. "But I'm interested. Money's tight, savin' for c.c. and tryin' to pay bills. Plus, if it means I get to see you, it can't be the worst thing ever."

"They said you would be paid about half of what I am," he explained, turning the A/C on and switching the fan speed to three. Raymond was distracted slightly by the good feeling of cold air being blown against his skin before adding, "In total, you'd be paid around 1.5 million if you do it for the whole season."

(Back at it again)

Khione, in the safety of talking to someone she trusted, showed a surprising amount of emotion when she choked. Coughing for a moment, she took the chance to categorize that information. Holy shit. One point five? "Shit. Shit, man, d'you know what I could do with that money? Anything. That's what." She hadn't told him yet, why she was working so much and so hard. Why she was doing her best to save up as much as she could.

"I am aware," he said, staring straight out of the windshield. "Do you want to do it?"

"Yeah. I'll do it. I'll need to know ahead what days to put in for to have off." She clenched her fingers into a fist at her side, something she did when excited. Because she never showed that excitement, that was the closest thing to it she showed.

"You need to talk to the General Manager, first, since technically you'll be a part of the couching staff when you get hired. What time do you want to be picked up, tomorrow?" he asked. Raymond assumed she would want to go as soon as possible.

"Anytime after noon. I'm busy till then with a…prior arrangement of sorts." She pushed her hair back from her face, moving to tie it back up again. "God, I ain't been outta the city in forever. This'll be interesting."

"It is loud," he said, glancing over at the radio clock. It said 11:53 in big green numbers. "How late are you working tonight?"

"Depends on the hoppers. Sometimes I'm off at one, sometimes it's five in the mornin' before I get the last of them out. Harvey likes to pass out in the booth in the corner, but he ain't here tonight." Khione said, uncaring of what the time was. She was often up for days at a time with scattered sleep if any.

"Would you like some sober company?" Raymond asked. He didn't want to go back to his home. It was cold and empty and he didn't feel like being alone.