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Old 04-07-2023, 01:57 AM   #62 (permalink)


Crumple-Horned Snorkack
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Join Date: Dec 2007
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Giselle Barrington
Third Year

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Sable Ileana Armstrong
Fifth Year

Ministry RPG Name:
Skye Tamerlane
Accidents & Catastrophes

Ministry RPG Name:
Jemma McCrae
Minister's Office
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Shoe!Girl │ Rebel Ravie │ Confundus Queen │ RP Addict

Originally Posted by Lottiepot View Post
It had been another day of wandering around London trying to decide what it was that Bowie was going to do with his life. On the one hand he had his passion, music. Although he knew that being in front of the limelight might not have been entirely his thing (mostly due to his personality not being suited to the cutthroat industry), being behind the scenes and producing was becoming more of his plan. The other idea was to give up on music entirely but then he’d be even more lost as to the direction his life would take him. His parents had always encouraged him to do whatever it was that made him happy but that wasn’t too hard for the man who always had a positive outlook on life and should he not pursue his passions, would likely throw himself into what work he was given.

It wasn’t like Bowie hadn’t indulged in the odd random job in between gigs. He’d worked in a music shop in Shoreditch for a few years whilst studying at WADA enabling him to rent his own tiny studio apartment in one of the artsy neighbourhoods of London. He’d also provided musical accompaniment to several artists over the years and worked as an assistant music producer at a Wrock music label. All of these jobs, amazing as they had been for experience, weren’t entirely taking him further up the career ladder and that tiny studio apartment was starting to feel a little cramped in between all the instruments and the collection of houseplants that had seemingly started taking over his lounge space.

Why his walk had taken him through Diagon Alley wasn’t entirely clear but alas here he was. He considered handing out CV’s but the twenty-seven year old hadn’t exactly made an effort to look presentable that morning and the colourful jumper full of holes, ripped jeans and the scruffy unshaven beard might have turned potential managers away. The local coffee shop came into view and the smell of a cappuccino was gravitating towards him. He pushed the door open and ordered himself an espresso to start before settling down on a seat at an empty table. He pulled his long blonde hair out of the way of his face up into a messy bun on his head and opened the copy of a newspaper a previous customer had obviously left behind.
One thing she had quickly learned upon starting her job at the Ministry was that the coffee on Level One hardly qualified as decent coffee. There was always the shop in the cafeteria, but Jemma occasionally had chosen to venture out for a cup instead. That was what had brought her to the Alley today, anyhow, with a quick glance at the delicate watch on her wrist to ensure she wouldn’t be gone too long. Media never rested and all, and she had to check in with her media liaisons soon enough to make sure things were all up to date. Especially with the World Cup ahead and all. There were any number of releases and such she expected would need to be drafted and sent out, not that she didn’t trust the G&S employees for that. A little double checking never hurt.

Either way, the twenty-seven-year-old brunette had developed a taste for the cappuccinos at the shop by now, and it was only after that getting a cup of such that she had turned to look for somewhere to sit and relax for a few minutes. And something had brought her over to the table the blond man was seated at. Probably the newspaper he was perusing. “Mind if I join you?”, she asked, the faint French lilt that had tinged her voice over the years she’d spent away having nearly faded away. It hadn’t seemed like it had been that long, but things like that were strange.
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me, at tea time, everybody agrees

...It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero
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