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yeetmetotahiti · 5 years

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Anon I swear. To. GOD.

What is your OC’s favorite color? He likes orange

Does your OC collect anything? What do they collect? He collects some books and small things that remind him of home. Like he has a jar of sand he took from outside his house.

What kind of things is your OC allergic to? He doesn’t have allergies

What kind of clothing does your OC wear? The nicer clothing he can find in stores or when he rarely robs houses. Everything has to be fancy and real nice with him, he’s a diva, anon

What is your OC’s first memory? Watching a horse at the neighbor’s ranch graze while the setting sun painted everything a hazy orange.

WWhat’s your OC’s favorite animal? Least favorite? I don’t think he’d have a favorite, but his least is definitely vultures

What element would your OC be? Fire

What is your OC’s theme song? Something country like??? Idk, cowboy stuff. (I haven’t really thought about it and it’s midnight)

Do you have a faceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC? No to both, besides what he just looks like online

What deadly sin would best represent your OC? Pride

What are your OC’s hobbies? He likes to ride Ikaros out for nice strolls through whatever type of country they set up camp in. He also likes to stargaze and sketch.

How patient is your OC? How hot-headed are they? He can be patient with friends, but if it’s just a random person making him angry, they better be ready.

What is your OC’s gender / sexuality / race / species / etc.? He’s male, I still haven’t worked out his sexuality, he’s mostly white(one of his great grandparents was Native American)

What foods does your OC like to eat? What are their least favorite foods? He loves the simple things, like some bread, cheese, and meats for a meal. His least favorite is honestly Pearson’s stew but he tries to not let him see that

If your OC could have any pet, what would they choose? Why? He would want an iguana because he saw one one day while riding through the desert and thought it looked cool.

What does your OC smell like? Trail dust, old leather, campfire smoke, and whatever he puts in his hair

How do they make a living? What kind of job do they want / not want? What is their dream job? What do they think of their current job? He’s an outlaw with Dutch. He’s fine with this job, but he’d hate to do something tedious like working in a shop. He doesn’t have a dream job, he’s living it. He loves that job baby!

What are your OC’s greatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths? He fears failure, he hates thinking he let people down. His greatest weakness is definitely his stubbornness and pride. His greatest strength is his determination.

What kind of music do they listen to? Do they have a favorite song? He listens to whatever is played or sung at camp. His favorite song is a lullaby he has long forgotten the words to.

If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do? This dumbass would be so excited by everything that he’d hurt himself immediately somehow.

What personal problems/issues do they have? Pet peeves? He hates when people mock him, or when people are rude for no reason. He once shot a man on the spot because he said some suggestive things to some ladies near by. His pet peeve is heavy breathers. (it just popped into my head I have no idea why)

What kind of student were they/would they be in high school? He didn’t go to no highschool, baby! He’s a cowboah!

What is a random fact about your OC? He is actually a real soft boah, he just hides it well.

What is their outlook on life? What is their philosophy / what do they think in general about living? They think life is for the taking, that it’s what you make of it. He doesn’t really have a philosophy on life, he just is out there to enjoy it.

What inspired you to create them / how did you create them? Were they originally a fancharacter? What was their personality / design like when you first made them? I literally just sat down online and made a character I thought looked interesting. Everything is still the same since I made him.

Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why? Even though he left in a hurry and didn’t get to say proper goodbyes to her, his most important person is still his mother. She did everything she could for him, and always encouraged him to do what makes him happy. The least important person to him is probably the man he tried to steal one of his sheep from. The one that caught him and gave him his scar on his face.

What kind of childhood did your character have? He had a pretty regular childhood minus the lack of a father. Just a kid having fun and being a kid.

What kind of nervous habits do they have? Do they stim? Do they have any kinds of addictions? He just tends to fidget and move on his feet a lot. His only addiction is tobacco becaue….I mean, it’s 1899.

If they could choose their epitaph for their grave, what would they choose? He lived the way he wanted to

Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why? This entire set of questions makes him nervous, but deep down he does want kids one day.

What is their most traumatic memory/experience? What is their favorite memory? Definitely, as mentioned before, how he got his face scar, or when he got attacked by a mountain lion. Their favorite memory is probably when he got his first horse.

If they could have one thing in the world, what would it be? He would want to meet his dad.

Would they ever kill someone? What would someone have to do to push them to kill someone? If they would kill someone, why? He…he’s an outlaw.

What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually? I mean he’s in a gang, so of course he sometimes does that acting stuff with Hosea. He likes to play the quiet role because then it’s easier to scope out the score. He usually plays Hosea’s character’s friend/brother/cousin/son/etc.

How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories? He has an ok one. He does tend to daydream a lot, especially on guard duty or when looking out on the landscape from horseshoe overlook. He’s usually never worried. He does think back to his time as a child a lot though, when things were easier for him.

What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain? He wants to find his dad the most out of anything, he looks up to a man he’s never met and only heard a few stories of. Idk, he always likes new guns and knives. He would roam forever if it meant finding his father.

What’s something that your character does, that other people don’t normally do? If he’s bored he usually unconsciously moves his thumb up and down a small section of his suspenders.

What would your character do with a million dollars? He would spend it on fancy clothes and upgrades to his weapons, he’s vain af!

What is in your characters refrigerator right now? On their bedroom floor? Nightstand? Garbage can? Well he doesn’t have a fridge obviously, but he has some shell casings on his tent floor along with some wood shavings from some small carvings he’s done. He has a picture of his mother and him and that jar of sand from outside his house on his nightstand.

Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with? He’s probably going into town for a mission or just with some of the guys or ladies from camp. He wears either his finest clothes or just what he has now depending on the situation. Oops, already answered that part.

What does your character do when they’re angry? Why? He’ll just kick the dirt and probably go out hunting by himself. He likes to be alone to cool down and have time to think.

Does your character have any scars? Where did they get them from? I already mentioned his scars before, but I’ll mention his scar on his side again. It’s from one of his first days working on the ranch when he made a young bull mad and it’s horn got his entire side.

What was the most offensive thing your character had ever said? Probably something when he was drunk. He can’t remember it but some of the guys in camp always joke about it to him while being vague enough that he doesn’t remember it.

How does your character react/ accept criticism? If it’s done nicely he does, if it’s screamed at him from somebody then he won’t stand for it.

If your character was given a slice of pineapple pizza and they HAD to eat it (or something bad would happen), how would they react? Do they even LIKE pineapple pizza? He doesn’t even know what pizza is, so he would either eat it immediately because he’s curious or he would refuse because he just doesn’t know what it is.

Your character is given a voodoo doll of themself. What do they do with it? Do they see if it actually works? He probably immediately pokes it with something sharp to see if it works.

Can your character draw? What do they like to draw? Do they doodle? He sketches all the time. He likes to draw wildlife and nature scenes. He doesn’t really doodle unless for practice.

What were their parents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult? His mother was very nurturing and caring. He only knows what he does about his father from the few stories his mother told him growing up and a few things he heard in town about the outlaw. It made him a caring person, he’s just a chaotic dumbass.

Does your character like candy? Do they get sugar rushes? What are they like when they get a rush? Please don’t give him candy, the last time that happened he had so much that it took 3 men to restrain him during his sugar high.

If your character was presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how would they react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try to make their last days count? He would be nervous, but he’s always wondered what was on the other side. He would still try to avoid it though. He would either make his last days with the gang his best or he would immediately race out to go on the few leads he had about where his father was last seen.

#rdr2 #red dead 2 online #my oc #probably didnt think id do it but here it is #im way too stubborn not to carry through

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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Anthony Bourdain: I put aside my psychotic rage, after many years being awful to cooks

The chef and author on encountering vichyssoise aged nine, practical jokes with his sous chef, and learning to take food less seriously

I worked in a restaurant where the house speciality was mutton chops, soeverything reeked of fat, penetrating every pore, follicle and piece of clothing, as if Id been rolling around in sheep guts. It was the first thing I smelled in the morning and the last at night. But I didnt have any friends outside the business. Its one of the reasons chefs hang with each other who else will love our smells?

As a youngster, in New Jersey, I was fed normal pedestrian American home cooking meatloaf and hamburgers although I do recall a copy of Julia Childs Mastering the Art of French Cooking high up on the refrigerator and how on special nights, when guests visited and mysterious adult stuff went on downstairs, the powerful smell of scallops with mushrooms in white wine sauce (Coquilles St Jacques) drifted upstairs.

At the age of nine, I went on the Queen Mary being served vichyssoise, a word I loved for my first trip to France, where boys were allowed watered-down wine and cigarettes on Sundays. But our parents left me and my little brother in the car outside La Pyramide (in Vienne), while they dined inside. I reacted by requesting oysters and dishes they found repulsive and becoming increasingly adventurous in my tastes. It wasnt about the food but about getting a reaction.

I only became happy in fact, intensely satisfied as a dishwasher at a restaurant in Provincetown in Cape Cod, my first job. I was a shy, goofy, awkward teenager. But in this blue collar, factory-like environment, there was no blurred line, no grey area, no philosophical question to fret over. Dishes had to go in the washer and come out taintless and doing this swiftly and competently meant I was acknowledged as a human being by colleagues I wanted to be like. The day they promoted me to dunking fries I was overjoyed.

It was watching chef Bobby screwing a bride over a barrel in the garbage area, while her wedding party dined inside, that made me want to be a chef. But it was awkward and didnt make sense. It was the first time Id seen anyone having sex and I didnt understand the brides motivation. Although I understand it very well now.

The line cook I especially respected was Beth Aretsky, aka The Grill Bitch; a very sturdy, hard, capable, profane woman at a time when there werent many women in the kitchen. When a Moroccan chef felt her ass she grabbed and spun him, then dry-humped him brutally over a cutting board. Like many early women in the business she was twice as tough as the men. Despite how she bossed us, wed go to her often crying for advice and support when having trouble with girlfriends. She wasnt having any of that either.

The crew at Marios restaurant spoke in this fantastic polyglot language incorporating Portuguese fishing dialect, Elizabethan poetry and Marine Corp profanities. And it was with Marios Dmitri such an influence on my career that I formed Moonlight Menus and created elaborate banquets for pizza magnates and drug dealers. When Dmitri designed tableaus on the sides of hams he did so with a dry, fantastic, acidic and self-punishing wit. He made fun of his propensity towards failure and disappointment, often, but he was a very creative, skilled and bright guy, who was different than anybody else Id met and very inspiring. Some of it was impressive for its time. I mean, no one else was doing pt en croute and huge galantines in aspic, elaborate chaud-froid presentations and Marie-Antoine Carme and Auguste Escoffier-era set pieces in 1975. Nobody. (Although if Daniel Boulud, whos since done these things, saw the quality I dont think he would be dazzled or impressed by our technique, to put it kindly.)

The mafia were everywhere back then. But now you have to look for them. The Racketeering & Corrupt Organisation Act which meant any member of an organisation could be prosecuted for the same crime as the leader of that organisation restricted the crime families involvement in the fish and meat markets. And were reaching the shallow end of the gene pool in a lot of these families the sons are all cokeheads and dont have the same values as their dads. The restaurant world aint what it used to be.

Steven Moore, my sous chef during the 90s, was the best one for practical jokes. If someone only put a potato in his shoe, hed remove the door from their locker and fill it high with porn mags. (Sometimes he used to arrive at work with sperm on his shoes.) I still appreciate that he had no shame whatsoever an admirable quality, of sorts. But Ive no connection with him now, since it is my belief that he sold a dick pic of me to the gossip site TMZ.

Im proud that in the last few years as a professional chef, however upset I was with staff, wed still be able to have a beer together at the end of the night, without ill-will. Id put aside my psychotic rage, after many years being awful to line cooks, abusive to waiters, bullying to dishwashers. Its terrible and counter-productive to make people feel idiots for working hard for you. Nowadays I still have a rather withering ability to be sarcastic and displeased but Im not screaming at anyone.

I was an unhappy soul, with a huge heroin and then crack problem. I hurt, disappointed and offended many, many, many people and I regret a lot. Its a shame I have to live with.

I like to hear music while I cook, but nothing too headbangy any more. Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, pre-disco funk, Isaac Hayes and Brothers Johnson and Im happy.

If I examine my body now, nude in the mirror, theres not too much damage to be seen. The burns, flesh marks and knife scars prevalent 14 years ago, before I moved into TV, have mostly faded. The damage sustained from handling lobsters and shrimp the inflammations and skin rashes have improved with time. My hands are pretty soft. My right hand is mangled with arthritis, from holding a whisk improperly for so many years, causing calluses to push bones out of joint. But Im in much better shape than Ive probably ever been. I travel 250 days a year. Im lean, my alcohol bloat has gone and I do Brazilian jiu-jitsu every day.

As I get older my tastes become simpler. The foods that make me reliably happy, that have a real emotional appeal, are a simple bowl of regional pasta, spicy noodles sold in Vietnam, or anybodys grandmothers meatloaf.

Its a lethal error to always critically evaluate meals. Ive certainly learnt to take food less seriously and try whenever possible to experience it emotionally rather than as a professional or critic. I like nothing more than seeing my daughter Ariane eating and liking food.

When youve seen what Ive seen on a regular basis it changes your world view. Ive spent such a lot of time in the developing world, I was caught in a war in Beirut, been in Liberia, the Congo, Iraq and Libya and realised how fast things can get bad, how arbitrary good fortune and cruelty and death. I suppose Ive learnt humility. Or something.

The great Warren Zevon was asked, close to death, whether he had any important words of wisdom to pass on and he said, Enjoy every sandwich. I definitely enjoy my sandwiches, given how low I fell and how likely it was that there was going to be a different and tragic outcome. Im a pretty lucky man. I enjoy my food and presenting Parts Unknown. I have the best job in the world.

Appetites: A Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain is published by Bloomsbury (26). To order a copy for 22.10 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99

This article was taken from Observer Food Monthly on 15th January 2017. Click here to get the Observer for half price.