Garrett O'Connell - Beginner

Link to character workshop topic: Click Here
Rank Applying For: Beginner
At least two of your recent role play topics:

1. Don’t Take Me Tongue Tied ft. a lot of people
   Garrett’s party where some things happen after the consumption of booze and truth serum. While insanity ensues, Garrett gives Pippa some attention.
2. Biting With Sweet Teeth ft. Roxy Farris
   Garrett and Roxy battle Garrett’s drug candy addiction.

Why you feel that you should move up: This rank up is as much a question of how well I wrote Garrett’s profile as it is confidence in how well I know him up to this point. Me and Garrett are still learning, creating, and figuring out his life, made particularly evident by the fact that pieces of his history are still not completely hashed out, but I feel I know him well enough for the beginner rank, and besides the history, the rest of him is pretty solid for a beginner.

biting with sweet teeth

Garrett liked to think he didn’t have a lot of problems, addictions, or vices, but positioned in Honeydukes, salivating at all the sweet candies and cavity inducing options, and hypnotized by the spiraling colors of giant circular lollipops, Garrett was forced to come to grips with the fact that he approached candy with the same overzealous fervor as a drug addict in an evidence closet. One of his greatest weaknesses –candy and sugary treats—were completely at his fingertips. He held the world of glucose in the palm of his hand; spread out in front of him, and his mind weaved through the shop like a cartographer, creating a road map of the stores layout so he could decide on what pit stops to make at what point during his expedition through the store. He had brought company with him on his journey towards a diabetic coma, but had practically forgotten her in the face of the heavenly image of chocolates, gummies, and assorted mints. He was already eyeing the pop rocks and rock candy like crack rocks and ass cracks in a strip club. The world of Honeydukes –the dimension of sweets—was a place Garrett should not have visited.

But he was here, and so was Roxy he assumed, assuming she hadn’t gotten lost somewhere or been knocked out of the way due to his excitement. Of course, he wasn’t drooling on the floor or panting like a Disney cartoon dog in a cabaret; he was actually calm despite the glee readily apparent in the twinkle of his glacial irises. He was excited, and that was clear, but he kept himself under control. He’d stormed the shop in his first year, and ran through it like a hurricane, but age and wisdom gave him some self-control, and he wouldn’t abandon decorum and cool now, not in front of his friend whose opinion of him actually mattered. “Oh boy,” he said after taking a deep, calming breath, “I fergot what candy does t’me.” Worry slowly crept up on him, but a 4th year exiting the shop caught his attention as she brushed past with a warm cinnamon bun in hand, the scent of melted crème and sugar over a warm, toasty, but soft spiraling ball of delicious cinnamon coated bread wafting into his nostrils where it almost seemed like the steam rising off the treat actually ran with legs into his nose. And after, all worry disappeared. “…No, this’ll do.”

And then he took off. He wasted no time in attacking the jelly slugs and gummy spiders, bagging tens of them into a single bag for him to enjoy. And the problem wasn’t that he could just shove as much candy as he could into a bag, buy it, and leave happy… No. The problem that Garrett experienced was the fact that he was rich. If he wanted, he could buy half of the shop. And this was why Roxy was there. Garrett, when it came to candy, couldn’t help himself. He’d eat enough to ruin the well sculpted physique he’d strived for, and introduce enough sugar into his system to give birth to tens of volcanic pimples and blemishes; he would absolutely wreck the ecosystem of his body and the balance of his blood sugar, and in one day threaten to kill his ability to produce insulin naturally, force his body into diabetes. That could not happen. Enter Roxy. Garrett had invited her along knowing good and well that the fellow Gryffindor, with a solid head on her shoulders, was his only hope to continued good health and obnoxiously wonderful physical beauty. If she failed, she would forever have the burden of knowing she ruined Garrett O’Connell. No pressure.

She had her work cut out for her. Already Garrett had cleaned a good third of the mints, grabbed up some 13 lollipops, and was working on using his freshly drawn wand to conjure up a hefty bag and enchant it to have a nearly infinite holding capacity. “These bags jus’ won’ do.” Roxy, save him.

restart the rewind

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Plucked from the garden of wealth and prosperity, and dropped into the field of adolescent bedlam, Garrett O’Connell, lovingly and respectfully nicknamed “Garry” by those closest to him, came to Hogwarts with the explicit intention of taking the school by storm. A veritable hurricane of a student, classical good looks and a rough sense of style combined to arm his arsenal of social weapons, giving him all the powers he needed to sway girls to want him, and boys to want to be him. Better still, a keen intellect turns good looks into a deadly weapon, such that striking blue eyes and an altogether charming smile come equipped with the potential dangers of sharp wit and equally charming words. It doesn’t help (his victims) that his Irish brogue colors his words, and adds a level of flavor gullible girls often find exceedingly pleasing. Of course, one doesn’t have to be gullible and naïve to fall for Garrett.

<p>The overall trend of carefully placed confidence, and precisely allocated humility and humor make Garrett a generally likeable individual. A Gryffindor, he also comes with a high level of loyalty, bravery, and on the other hand brashness. Though, his level of brashness often takes the shape of wrathfulness, and a quickness to bring about harm in the face of perceived wrong doing. A relatively well calibrated moral compass lends to his good qualities, while those of the bad are mostly the results of an angry individual with a slight chip on his shoulder; and a motherless upbringing has admittedly left him lacking many a more refined and soft position, paving the way for subtle misogynistic influences. Strangely, blood purity is considered last centuries prejudice, and he doesn’t have the patience for it in any form, hypocritical as it may be.

<p>By the by, Garry is pretty awesome. He needs friends, enemies, and while lovers isn’t exactly on the agenda, he is never at a loss for people willing to have a good time with him, whatever the implications may be. SO, without further ado, let the plotting commence.



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Garrett O'Connell

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jump in my mouth and breathe the stardust

The Great Hall was alive with the chatter and gossip of Hogwarts students sitting down for supper. Dinner was always a frivolous feast; the idea of not getting your fill was never a concern. Turkeys and other meats were never in short supply, bread was an abundant commodity, there was enough pumpkin juice to drown a large number of mermaids, and when desert rolled around, if you weren’t already full, then you probably weren’t doing the dinner portion correctly. Eating at Hogwarts was like an everyday athletic sport, and Merlin help you if you didn’t like what was on the menu. Garrett could only imagine how tirelessly the elves worked; slaving away over stoves and cauldrons, working their thin little muscles stirring huge vats of soup… then again, they were magic, and with magic it really only needed two or three elves to prepare such a bountiful meal day after day. Wizardkind was truly blessed to be in the presence of such efficient, little, domestic soldiers. Garry himself was now left to wonder, as he casually (and with more refinement and poise then many others of his ilk) bit into a turkey leg, what his life might be like if he had subordinates of some flavor as diligent as house elves.

At home, the mansion was ripe with working elves, cleaning something, cooking something, or organizing something else. They worked, as far as Garry could tell, around the clock. He’d formed a somewhat close relationship with one of the 5 house elves under his family’s employment, Crag. He was a stalwart house elf, though not one to take much bullshit from even his masters (a sentiment he often verbalized and explained). The rights of house elves had come a long way, and in another life speaking to a master in such a way would more than likely result in a severe beating. Garrett and his father were more noble than that, a fact somewhat strange to their contemporaries; those who still held blood purity as an important quality. They would certainly put a house elf in its place… Garrett didn’t need to, for even as Crag was a often vulgar and opinionated employee, his companionship, hard work, and leadership amongst the house elves of the O’Connell property was invaluable. Garrett liked to think Crag taught him quite a bit growing up. Imagine that…a house elf being a model of behavior for a pureblood wizard. What was the world coming to?

Garrett shook his head and shook the thoughts from his mind, though he failed to rid himself of the amusing idea of a house elf army under himself. What would he do with such a thing, anyways? Conquer dirty houses along the English coast? With an amused smile on his face, he took another bite of his turkey, wary to chew with his mouth closed before taking a swig of his pumpkin juice from his goblet. At either side of him were his housemates, each having conversations of their own and vying for his approval or attention in some capacity. It occurred to him that if he wanted lackeys, he need only extend a hand. As it stood, he had no use for them. They were untrustworthy at best, and completely without honor or a sense of loyalty at worse. Gryffindor’s were known for courage… not necessarily their devotion or faithfulness. To that end, the most loyal and trustworthy friend Garrett seemed to have was a Slytherin. Perhaps it was blood, or maybe it was pure amusement that the two veritable brothers clung so tightly to their friendship; either way, Garrett already had a model for the type of people he’d carry with him towards success in the adult world… he resigned to give up on his quest for worthy companions then, because he couldn’t imagine a friend more loyal to him than Max Auctherlony.

That said, he wasn’t giving anyone a real chance. His standards were…high to say the least. He was a fun and exuberant individual, and friendly most days, but he was undoubtedly a touch on the elitist side. Striking blue eyes seemed to carry the curse of being forever in an intimidating or judgmental light. The Gryffindor upperclassman couldn’t really do anything about it if he was actually being judgmental, or actively trying to intimidate people. He was a big personality… if only people could accept, without question, the magnitude of his awesome, and follow him blindly into whatever future he had plotted…

don't take me tongue tied

Garrett maintained a reputation of relatively high popularity. His face was not easily ignored, his words not easily forgotten; people took an interest in things he did, and the audience was usually girls with the occasional male who had the hots for him. It wasn’t arrogance or misguided bravado that made him aware of these facts, it was simply a matter of self-awareness, and the full knowledge that he was a good looking guy. He had power and affluence in the way, not just of money and of name, but of his age, his class, and his house. He was seventeen! He was old enough to apparate now, and he had his license; it was simply a matter of getting out of school to use it. He was a seventh year; at the top of the hierarchal pyramid, as it were, because no self-respecting upperclassman would deny the fact that they had seniority in virtually all things Hogwarts. Aside from teachers and staff, who could even stop them? Who could stop Garrett? Last but not least… he was a Gryffindor. Nobility and pride stemmed not just from the blood coursing through his veins, but from the scarlet and gold heraldry emblazoned upon a handful of his sweaters, and all of his school robes. To say that Gryffindor sat at the top of the totem pole wouldn’t be accurate considering they hadn’t won the House Cup last term, but their track record for both that and quidditch cup practically made them royalty; if there was a metaphorical throne a house could ascend to concluding the death of the king, Gryffindor would surely occupy the seat of first in line. This was all to say that Garrett had every right to feel like a prince; to feel like a king; to feel like a part of a goliath monarchy. And what was it that monarchs did?

…They partied.

Parallel lines of hanging lights streamed from the entrance of the abandoned tower, all the way up the spiraling staircase, to the very top where the main body of the party was to be held. With various rooms and other hideaways in the tower, the lights broke off like branches on a tree, with the leaves of light casting their luminous, yellow tinted glow throughout the whole of the high-rising edifice. The windows to the tower were all lit up, turning the abandoned tower into a bright beacon jutting straight towards the sky from the body of Hogwarts, where the light of the moon served as the disco ball for the evening’s festivities. Garrett, having no aspirations to be an interior designer or party planner, had done exceedingly well in terms of preparation and mood setting. The largest room in the tower, which sat cozily between the staircase and adjacent rooms, and the near attic like enclosure above the party, was decorated in plain colors, paying tribute to no house, but with warmly tinted magic bulbs floating around the ceiling like stars, what colors existed in the room, whether they be scarlet or midnight blue, didn’t matter. The lights, influenced by a setting autumn sun, adjusted the ambience created by the music into something fun and upbeat, but simultaneously casual, and meant for fraternization.

Some catchy tune by a popular wizarding band that had, interestingly enough, broke into the muggle world played over the speaker system set up, chanting something about being "tongue tied" and throwing a "slumber party" with a "pillow fight" invovlved, which was only partially appropriate if you had pure intentions, which Garrett did not. He was, after all, still a seventeen year old boy who wouldn’t mind having a slumber party with a few hot girls (pillow fight and all).

By 10 o’clock, the party was in full swing, and had been for the last two hours. A variety of drinks and snacking options had been supplied, none of them more important to many students than the alcohol. Garrett appreciated the desire to have a good time and make his party actually worth while, which he wasn’t so arrogant as to assume he could do all on his lonesome. No; social lubricants were needed to make things good for this social experiment, and Garrett himself was slowly imbibing on butterbeer and firewhiskey to loosen himself up and make him a cooler, sillier, more awesome version of himself. Inhibitions and preconceptions were abandoned and replaced with open-mindedness and adventurousness; susceptibility to all the things the night had to offer. Couches, chairs, and comfortable, giant plush pillows existed almost everywhere in the tower, offering up ample opportunity to take a seat and take a load off. Garrett found himself reclined in one of those plush seats, a red cup full of butterbeer clasped loosely in his hand while some blond prima donna chatted his ear off, saying things that were otherwise going straight through one ear and out the other. He found it very easy to ignore whatever she was saying and instead get, literally, lost in her eyes….or at least that’s the excuse he had prepared if she asked what he was staring at. In all truth, he’d just gotten lost in her face, and was being distracted by a small food particle lodged in her central incisors. She was too vain to think that he was anything but captivated by her; enraptured by her otherworldly beauty and charisma.

He kept from offending her by occasionally saying “yeah”, “uh-huh”, and "mmm" in alternating patterns, while absentmindedly playing with a ‘deathly hallows’ pendant around his neck. Eventually he was roused from his reverie by nothing more than a sudden stroke of clarity and lucidity, and he realized that he would have to break away from this (Garrett’s mind: “well I’ll be damned…she’s in Gryffindor house”) girl before whatever dark magic she’d cast on him to catch his attention started to deplete his brain cell count.