OSRIC YOUNG (finished)

[OSRIC YOUNG]

OSRIC YOUNG




"Take the pain out of love and then love won't exist."

[/size]

------------------------------------------------------
Alias: Gabby
Other Characters: Gregory Lestrade
Rewritten City Found Via: Originally Leffie on fanfiction.net
Contact: PM
Comments: I love music; this is a basically a love letter to the now dead fucking amazing music scene of 2006^^'.
------------------------------------------------------

[/center]

00I. full name Osric Roscoe Young
0II. canon or original The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, by William Shakespeare.
III. years of age Twenty-four (birthday March 18)
0IV. orientation (optional) Straight, though... metrosexual might be a better description.
00V. social status Middle Class
0VI. occupation Record-store minder, freelance (occasionally session and ex-signed) musician, box-mover, and self-proclaimed biographer/stalker of Claudius Chandler (basically, he just plays odd jobs).

00I. play by William Beckett
0II. body type He’s quite tall, but also pretty skinny. He’s got some muscle on him from moving boxes but doesn’t really look it.
III. height 6’2”
0IV. eyes color Dark brown, with some subtle hints of green.
00V. description As a little kid, Osric had a nickname: Smiley. It was one of those kiddy-names that goes away once you can talk properly, but the name really still applies just as well. Even when he’s unhappy, he still manages to appear mildly adorable. He looks a good deal younger than he actually is, and his peppy attitude really doesn’t help his case; he still has never failed to be asked to show his ID in bars and clubs. He’s a bit of a pretty boy; he likes to wear nice clothes. Not necessarily expensive, but very form-fitting (er, pretty tight) and comfortable clothes that look good on him. He’s very impartial towards v-necks. He’s not a huge fan of “dressing up,” - ties and jackets - but he does like to make sure he looks neat, especially his hair. He also likes to wear simple necklace chains and usually handmade bracelets (Wilson's sisters liked to make them for him). Sometimes he grows his hair really long, but people say it makes him look like a girl so he’s stopped doing it as much recently. Though, when he cuts it short, he apparently looks like a little kid, so he just can’t win. Sometimes he dyes his hair darker, or to black or grey. He also wears glasses on occasion, but usually he sticks to contacts and only uses his frames if the pollen's irritating his eyes or he's too sick or lazy to bother putting his contacts in.

00I. overall personality Osric is everything most young men do not want to be: annoying, too energized, kind of effeminate, a college-drop out, and general failure. And yet, he’s likeable. Maybe it’s his positive attitude that isn’t simply blind enthusiasm, but actually has convincing undertones, that makes him seem immediately earnest. That’s not to say that most people like him when they first meet him – quite the opposite really – but once one gets past the whole “This kid is way to cheery” stage, they’ll realize there’s a brain behind that smile, even if it doesn’t show itself all too often. Whether or not you’d call Osric stupid is up to your own definition of the word. He’s pretty book smart, and did very well in school (he has a way with words) but he’s a bit socially lacking. As in, he doesn’t exactly filter himself; he always goes all out, and while he isn't cruel, he talks too openly in a way that makes people uncomfortable.

He’s sensitive, but he’s pretty good at hiding his easily-hurt feelings. He’s pretty quick to forgive everyone anyways, so it’s not something friends would worry about, really. He’s a little dramatic, so people tend to leave him out of gossip. He manages to hear it anyways though; he’s a master at accidental ease-dropping. That, and he’s very good and picking up others’ feelings. He can usually tell when somebody's lying to him. He might not actually realize it himself, but he is pretty good at comforting people, even if he does it in the way that basically makes you forget your problems by getting annoyed at him instead. He’s very dedicated, and so if he’s doing something he likes to do, or knows he has to finish something, he’s punctual and won't leave things half-done; he doesn’t give anything a half-assed effort unless he thinks it’s morally wrong.

Surprisingly, he’s good at pretty much everything he tries. Which is why he’s tried almost everything. Still, the thing that makes him truly happy is writing music. His year of being in a serious band was the best of his life. He doesn’t like to think about regrets, which is why, if he had the change, he’d do it all over again. He doesn't forget what happened the first time, but he is able to view everything with a silver lining and a rarely forced positive side. He actually has some very strongly-opinioned views on the state of society and government, but he doesn’t usually talk about them unless they’re in the songs he writes, because he doesn’t want to bore people with idle, dull chatter about law. He’s a good cook, and while he’s a very good writer, he can be a perfectionist and so he’s never really submitted anything to a publishing company. He wants his first book published book to be something he won’t ever regret. He’s the kind of guy who will do a lot to make sure he’s pleasing to others. In a way, he's selfish, because he wants people to be happy because he doesn't think he's happy unless they are. But he's also incredibly selfless in the same way; he can trick himself into believing he's happy if others are, even if he's not. He's been taken advantage of by people many times because of this ever-innocent quality.

He likes to talk, a lot. A lot a lot. In fact, he won't shut up. He knows when to stop, but he's just can't, because there's too much to say; he needs people to know his opinions. Perhaps that's why he likes singing so much. He's an outgoing guy and enjoys social events, parties and clubs and the like, but he's just as happy go to some dramatic college party as go to one of his mother's bridge club meetings back home, provided everyone there was nice and willing to be friends: he truly thrives on social interaction. He doesn't have problems trusting people, which is another way he's been taken advantage of. He's not a virgin. No really, he's not. He's just… well, pure. Despite how depressing his situation has gotten at times in his life, he's always managed to be positive. His clear-headed optimism is what keeps him going, in reality. He can get angry, but doesn't like to, especially in front of other people; if he's angry, you probably won't know about it. It's usually over something like an injustice or act of bullying he's seen. He intervenes if he sees something wrong happening, but he's not very good at it; people tend not to listen to the random kid coming up to them and trying to tell you what they should do.

He likes himself. Not vainly, but he's never gone through that horrible teenage stage of "Oh god, I'm so ugly and nobody likes me." He doesn't necessarily think other people like him or think he's good looking, but he doesn't think he's ugly. He does put a good bit of work onto appearances though, simply because he enjoys looking good. He likes compliments a lot. He can be a little lazy - he's good at procrastination - but he doesn't usually miss commitments. He likes the outdoors and animals a lot; he's worked at a pet shop, as a camp counselor (the kids loved him), a news boy (he was fired for talking too much on the job), and volunteered at a lot of places like hospitals, animal shelters and homeless shelters. He's quite generous and sympathetic (without acting pitying) towards those less fortunate than he. He worries about other people easily and can get very distressed when he hears about terrible things happening in the world. He really only gets sick when he's stressed out, which is usually from worrying about his friends. He’s terrified out plane rides and while he thinks they’re cute, he doesn’t like cats, because when he was a kid a cat scratched him up. He's sort of absent minded; he'll start thinking too much while walking and simply fall over because he's stopped paying attention to the present.

0II. strengths Poet, intuitive, determined, extremely optimistic, generally good at anything he tries.
III. weaknesses Socially annoying, drama-queen, maybe a bit too optimistic, naive, cares too much, often acts ADHD.
0IV. goals He wants to finish his book on Claudius, and also he’s love to get a new band started up. He’s still searching on where to get inspiration to write what he calls "that perfect song," the one you never get sick of singing.

00I. notable family & friends
Mother: Ariana Christenson
Father: William Roscoe Young
Ex-band mates: Carl Tank (bassist), Wilson Heinz (pianist/percussion), Hank Sirca (guitar, backup vocals, everything else).
Idol: Claudius Chandler
0II. overall history
Osric was born March 18 in a small town in Utah. His parents had met only two years before, but it had been true-true love at first sight, and he grew up in a very loving family. His mother and father were Mormons, and for a very long time, Osric went along with the religion just as happily. One might say he had a “picket fence America” childhood, if you discount the whole not being Christian bit. He was an only child, and when Osric was older he learned that the only reason for that was his mother had some complications during his own birth. Still, the three were happy. Osric was disciplined strictly and according to their faith, but not unkindly; his parents believed in God they were accepting and liberal. He was quite smart, and did well in school. His parents had high expectations for him, hoping he would follow his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer (his mother was an accountant).

Osric showed musical talent at only three years old, when he started to play the baby grand his mother had inherited when his grandmother died. His parents valued the arts and made sure their son got the best piano teacher around. When he was in fourth grade he began to play guitar and later he learned various other percussion instruments, including the drums. His best friend Hank learned music along with him, and they began to write songs together for fun. Osric was diagnosed with ADHD in fourth grade and was pretty doped up on heavy medication he still to this day insists was completely unneeded throughout fifth and sixth grade. He was able to convince his parents that he was simply excitable and did not need to the drugs to get on; he proved to his parents his ability to concentrate by getting straight A+s for two months without being on the meds, and his parents let him drop them. They were secretly very proud of Osric for this and hoped it was a sign Osric would indeed go into law. A new boy, Wilson, who had moved to Hank and Osric’s school in sixth grade, heard about the whole event (it was common knowledge in the town, where gossip spread fast) and suggested Osric become a lawyer. Osric quickly dismissed the idea, but the conversation started a friendship between the two boys.

Throughout high school, Osric both retained very good grades – especially in writing and literature – and stayed on high honor roll throughout his upper school years. But what he truly loved to do, he’d figured out by now, was write music and play it with his friends. By this time, Wilson, Hank and he were inseparable friends. They started their first band, Jewels in Drawers (one of Wilson’s girlfriends had made the name up), and played covers of song by bands like Fall Out Boy and Green Day at local gigs. Osric’s parents supported him in his musical output (though not his shaggy hair), but warned him that he still had to go to college. And he did go to college: he got a large scholarship to NYU when he graduated high school and decided to major in music theory (something his parents weren’t entirely pleased about) and minor in early education (which his parents hoped he would follow instead of music). Wilson also went to NYU for law, and Hank to Vassar College. After Hank dropped out of college a few months in, he moved to NYC and crashed at Wilson, Osric or their new friend Carl’s (Carl studied law with Wilson) dorms. The four started hanging out and decided to form a new band, which they called “Universally Yours” (it was a bad pun on that fact that they were in university). They still sang covers from a lot of pop punk bands, but also sang some of Osric’s own music.

Osric, who wrote all of the original songs that the band played with a bit of help from Hank, and sang lead vocals, posted one of their songs, The Cat And The Jug Are Here Tonight on the internet during their third year of college. It was noticed by the largely active music community during that time and they were signed for one debut album by a prominent record label. In order to concentrate on the music, Osric dropped out in the middle of his second year, much to his parents dismay (both Wilson and Carl stayed in college initially, though Carl dropped out soon after when he realized he couldn’t bother doing two things; Wilson somehow managed). It seemed all was going well: their first song was even played on the radio. But then a chain-reaction of unfortunate events piled up quicker than Osric could have imaged it could and everything was fucked.

Osric caught Carl sleeping with his girlfriend, though he forgave Carl for that because Carl’s apologies seemed earnest. But once they guy started doing hard drugs and got Osric’s cheating girlfriend pregnant, he quit the band. Still, Osric imaged that Carl was replaceable, seeing as he hadn’t played anything but bass, and not even that well. But then one night he and Hank were driving back from a party a little too drunk, and Hank crashed the car: Hank was in a coma for a month and Osric hurt his arm so badly he couldn’t play guitar for ages. The band was finished, and having dropped out of college, Osric had no idea what to do. He stayed in New York, even though his parents, as kind and understanding as always, offered for him to live back in Utah with them if he earned a living and tried to get back into college. However he didn’t want to do that, as going back seemed too much like welcoming shame, and so he moved into a small flat in a fairly nice apartment building. He used the little money he had earned from their single hit to pay for it. He got a job in a record/CD shop that paid quite well (as one had to be pretty knowledgeable about music to work there). He continued to write music, but never did anything with his songs, not wanting to become a solo artist and his confidence still smarting from Universally Yours’s failure. He also made a bit of pocket money by moving boxes for people who needed the service. He had no idea what he was doing with his life aside from the fact that he wanted to be happy, and have fun. And, being as optimistic as he is, he was able to keep fairly happy with his simple life.

Osric had always loved writing, and so one day it got into his head that he should write a book. On what, however, he had no idea. At least, he had no idea until one day he met Claudius Chandler. Osric had at some point one day lost his wallet, and the man had kindly returned it to him. Osric took it as a gesture of such meaning that he was determined to find Claudius again and, in an innocently childlike and slightly stalker-ish way, wanted to become the guy's best friend. It wasn't very hard to find Claudius, seeing as the man had stuck his business card in Osric's wallet when he returned it. Osric later asked Claudius what he did; Claudius said he was changing small businesses. Osric took this as Claudius being some sort of savior for dying companies and viewed Claudius in a strangely over-idolized way. Since then, Osric has declared himself Claudius' biographer and is ever determined to show up in places Claudius is at. He doesn't actually realize how creepy he's being.

III. sample post

”Maybe I should drive,” Osric noted as he watched Hank stumble again. He was disappointed: they hadn’t found anyone good to replace Carl at the party, despite everyone there being apparent musicians. Everyone was either too old or didn’t want to play mainly bass. Osric had thought it would have been ridiculously easy to find someone willing and right for the position, having been signed. People should want to join their band; they were on the radio! But no, apparently not. Selfish pricks wanted the spotlight, and Osric wasn’t going to let someone else sing the words of his bleeding heart.

They had been the youngest people at that party, though at least they could drink now. The benefits of finally turning twenty-one a bit more than and a month ago were certainly full of pluses and very few negatives. Maybe they had drank a bit too much, though, because things were feeling a little fuzzy around the edges.

“I’m good, man,” Hank replied, barely suppressing an unexplained giggle. Hank was that type; he got all giggly when he was drunk. Osric thought that was at least better than the weepy attitude Wilson always got when he was drunk; that was just plain annoying.

“Whatever dude, just don’t crash the car,” Osric said, and they opened the doors to the beat but reliable old truck Hank had gotten for a really great deal a few months back after he’d dropped out. The guy treated it like his baby.

“As if I’d be that stupid,” Hank snorted. He turned the keys in the ignition and laughed. Osric laughed too. It was true; as if anything – any of those horror stories they’d ever seen in driver’s-ed back in high school – would ever happen to them. They were smarter than that, and they were a fucking talented signed band. They were invincible.

And then it started to rain, and they weren’t.

Crash. Bang. Smoke.

Osric thought he saw blood; there was a lot of blood. He couldn’t see Hank’s face through all the blood. It was dripping down Hank’s skin, weaving between the contours of his face like you see in the movies, all wrong and no, this couldn’t be happening to them! But it was.

“Hank?” Osric tried to say weakly, and then he realized he could see his bone poking out through the skin of his elbow and oh God, they were going to die, weren’t they? No, they couldn’t die, they were them, they were invincible… and they had a cell phone! That’s right, Hank had gotten a brand new cell, portable and everything, just a few days ago, and he could use that to call for help. He reached over to dig his hand – the one that wasn’t attached to his useless arm that he was pretty sure was starting to hurt a lot more – into Hank’s pocket, and his fingers came back sticky with Hank’s blood.

“Stop bleeding, come on man,” Osric pleaded almost desperately, and dialed one handedly: 9. 1. 1.

“991, where is your emergency?”

The woman’s voice is calm, and it calms Osric’s mind alittle, enough of he can remember what he’s supposed to be saying. He fully realized that he’s most likely in shock, and it’s the only reason his arm doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should. “My friend – we crashed the car. We’re… here.” Osric said vaguely, and he must have been a bit drunker than he’d initially thought. This was bad; they were really going to die, and all they’d done was have a few drinks. Osric promised himself at that very moment he’d never drink again in the what, at the moment, felt like the unlikely chance of making it through the day alive. He looked out of the windows frantically, and from the light of the smashed headlights, Osric made out a sign at the top of hill they’d practically flipped down. “State Street… We’re on State Street.”

Suddenly he could feel his elbow again, and it didn’t just hurt, oh no, it was burning. It was worse than any pain he could ever remember feeling. He dropped the phone on the floor of the car, and he thought he could hear the operator still talking but he couldn’t make the words out; he couldn’t tell if he was screaming or if that was the sound of other cars racing by on the dark highway. Black spots danced in front of his eyes like they say they do in books. Books don’t lie. He shuddered violently, and right before he passed out, he managed to croak out to Hank, “Don’t die, please, just don’t.”

---

They both don’t die. At least, not right away, not yet. Osric thought Hank was going to before the nurse convinced him that his friend was just in a coma. Osric felt like that was almost as bad as dead, but with a less permanent destination. But what was worse than Hank’s temporary death, or the fact that his friend’s precious truck was completely trashed, or fact that their parents were going to kill them once they found out, was the horrible sense of dread burning a hole through his stomach that felt almost as literal as the one his bone had ripped through the skin of his arm: he couldn’t play guitar anymore. Their record label would get taken away. The band was over.

And so just what was he supposed to do now?

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this, modified by Yols with Shakespeare lines.

[/color]

[||ADMIN NESSIE||]

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this application - you've managed to make a fantastic character out of a very minor role in the original canon so my hat is off to you there. I love how you've outright stated Osric can be annoying/creepy - amusing character traits to play with, no doubt. Your writing sample was excellent - especially liked this sentence - 'Osric felt like that was almost as bad as dead, but with a less permanent destination.'- brilliant, brilliant stuff.

ACCEPTED!