new york city, new york
you know who we are. we’re the ones who believe that pleasure is the only intrinsic good, we’re the ones you avoid eye contact with when you’re walking the streets at dark, we’re the ones who pull the strings behind everything in town, you just like to pretend that we don’t. we’re the powerful, thoughtful ones who hold the economy and the populace from falling into anarchy. new york is a place where the bad succeed and the good are trampled under the feet of progress. be smart, be quick or get out because there’s no way you’ll survive in this kind of climate if you aren’t clever about it. feuds, betrayal, forbidden love, illicit affairs, stronger than blood friendships, brotherhoods and sisterhoods and everything else in between. when we aren’t trotting in louboutins or buttoning crisp brooks brothers, we’re drinking grey goose martinis and attending anything that has a free bar and the chance of networking. and you thought los angeles was dangerous? welcome to the upper wild side.
established in march 2012, upper wild side is an advanced, no word count roleplay that focuses on seven powerful, prestigious dynasties all of whom inhabit the city of new york. when registering we ask you do so with your character's first and last name in all uppercase letters. please make sure to check the wanted ads and canon lists before making any final decisions as particular characters are always needed! with that said, we hope you enjoy your time with us, and most importantly - have fun!
the staff team


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 a man of many talents, roman | milka
SIMBA RIVERS
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 07:05 PM
QUOTE  


front desk clerk » gramercy park hotel
20
YEARS OLD
190 posts




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kris
IS Offline

plug me in and turn me on and flip the switch i'm as good as gone it slits my skin and trips my brain and feel the burn when i don't feel the pain


there’s a certain atmosphere a good garage is known to possess. first, there’s the smell. most people expect it to be a very clean place, hating the tracks of oil and fuel that often appear, the dust left behind by metal. secondly, there’s the clang of the tools hanging in their proper places, the whir of the electronic motors. thirdly, you need the comraderie. the trash talk that flows between the mechanics as they repair the cars. atmosphere is important for a good garage, a level of trust between man and machine that is unparalleled anywhere else. the men and women who work on motor vehicles have to love the machines almost as much as they love people, and sometimes even more. they have to understand the vibrations of an engine, the warmth of a vehicle’s interior.

when simba walks into dawes garage, that’s exactly the feeling he gets. it’s almost like coming home, like walking back onto the large plantation his family owns, the summer wind blowing warm against his skin, the scent of homemade food filling the air. the ring of the metal tools in use sounds almost like his mother calling to him lovingly from the distance. at least it would if the house he’d grown up in felt anywhere near as comforting as a garage does. if his parents had loved him the same way engines and the computers that make their newer versions function did, maybe he wouldn’t be here now, rolling his shoulder against the pain that’s driving through his nerves. maybe, he’d never have been in that restaurant that day, and he wouldn’t have been pulled into a hostage takeover at gunpoint. maybe he’d have been wise enough to keep his mouth shut if his parents had encouraged him more, if they had loved him with greater intensity than a man only worth what he would inherit. but they hadn’t, and here he is, metal bar where bone used to be, and nothing to show for it beyond nightmares and painkillers he can’t function without.

in any case, he’s not here to relive sad memories. nor is he here to immerse himself in the feeling of an engine beneath his palms, even if the itch beings in his palms the moment he hears friendly voices calling jokes to one another. instead, he rolls his shoulders again, fighting to loosen the tight muscles as he strides forward into a world of metal and oil. simba looks around in confusion, searching for blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sculpted physique that leaves nothing undesired. the woman he’s searching for doesn’t appear to be present, at least not so far as the twenty year old hotel worker can see, and so he steps further in, approaching the nearest person he can see. “hey, um, sir?” simba questions just above the din of the work going on. “got a minute to spare?”

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ROMAN DAWES
 Posted: Jul 8 2013, 10:59 PM
QUOTE  


PROFESSIONAL BADASS » dawes garage
31
YEARS OLD
1101 posts




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MILKA
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I call you on the telephone My voice too rough with cigarettes I sometimes feel I should just go home but I'm dealing with a memory that never forgets I love to hear you say my name especially when you say yes I got your body right now on my mind


idc words
<3
Certain days Rome can just wake up and know that the day is going to be a good one. He doesn't believe in sixth senses or any of that bullshit, but sometimes he can just feel that things are going to work out. Ever since the economy crashed his legal business took a hit, which meant he just turned more towards the illegal side of things. Rome knew to be careful thanks to the cops who never seemed to leave him alone, especially after the Preston debacle, but keeping his nose clean and his business afloat proved to be too much of a difficulty.

Beyond that, Rome didn't want to live the straight and narrow. He found it boring, preferring the criminal lifestyle he became acquainted with at a young age. Still, Rome loved his garage and would never risk letting it go belly up, and besides, everyone knew he and his crew were the best mechanics in not only the borough, but the whole damn city. Rome loved New York, the smell and tastes of it all, but he doubted anyone could compare to him when it came to making a car purr.

He currently busied himself with putting the finishing touches on an engine when he heard a voice behind him. Rome turned, cursing Carina for being more focused on flirting with customers than preventing bystanders from just wandering into the main part of the garage. Strangers didn't belong here and Rome grumbled to himself hastily turning around and wiping his dirty hands on a closely located towel, giving the young man standing in front of him an exasperated look. "What is it?"

code by anna.
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SIMBA RIVERS
 Posted: Jul 23 2013, 11:51 PM
QUOTE  


front desk clerk » gramercy park hotel
20
YEARS OLD
190 posts




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kris
IS Offline

plug me in and turn me on and flip the switch i'm as good as gone it slits my skin and trips my brain and feel the burn when i don't feel the pain


There’s no sign of blonde hair anywhere. He’s not exactly surprised because his vague memories of that day told him that the woman who kept him alive wasn’t actually a car junkie. Her brother owns this place, whoever Roman Dawes happens to be, and Simba’s not exactly surprised to not find her here. It might be that she’s working or just not all that inclined to hang around her brother’s noisy, oily shop. This, naturally, makes Simba wonder what he’s doing here at all. Honestly, given the more likely idea that she won’t be found here, the twenty-year old is really sure why he thought to look for her in this location. Finding her at the hospital she works at is probably easier, but Simba doesn’t really want to go back there unless he has to, and honestly a garage is a much better place to find himself.

He hasn’t been in a garage in so long it almost feels like coming home. Of course, this particular place isn’t anything like what he remembers back in Tennessee. It’s a bit livelier, more relaxed, less about the making of money than about the vehicles themselves. Immediately, he finds that he likes it, from the girl flirting with the customers to the gruff individual looking exasperatedly at him now. The clang of metal on metal rings out around them, and Simba can practically taste the oil and gasoline that scents the air. It’s such a rough environment, rugged and the exact opposite of the composed artistic world he normally finds himself in.

“Well, um,” Simba begins somewhat hesitantly, smiling at the clearly aggravated man in front of. “Truth be told, I was looking for someone, but seeing as how she’s not present, I thought you might be able to tell me where I could find her or her brother.” He looks around again, trying in vain to find even a remotely familiar face. There are none though, and so Simba returns his gaze to the man he’s talking to. “The nurse at the hospital said she has a brother, and that’s how I found this place. You don’t happen to know a guy named Roman, do you?”

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ROMAN DAWES
 Posted: Aug 18 2013, 07:14 PM
QUOTE  


PROFESSIONAL BADASS » dawes garage
31
YEARS OLD
1101 posts




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MILKA
IS Offline

I call you on the telephone My voice too rough with cigarettes I sometimes feel I should just go home but I'm dealing with a memory that never forgets I love to hear you say my name especially when you say yes I got your body right now on my mind


idc words
<3
Rome knew he could be quite testy, but considering the fact that he was down a few mechanics and had a lot to do, he really didn't want to spend his time entertaining tourists. No doubt he would have to find some more employees soon, but finding people that actually wanted to work instead of just flirt or laze around the shop was proving to be considerably difficult. Plus, more than that, Rome often drew in the crowd of upstarts who wanted to get into the racing world, thinking Rome would jump at the chance to take them under his wing. Fuck that shit. After Preston, Rome learned his lesson and knew enough to keep his wits about him at all times.

Waiting for the man to speak, Rome started to run through all of the things he needed to get done before he closed the shop down. He resisted the urge to just tell the younger man to get on with it, so instead he stood there, clearly keeping his aggression and impatience under control. For some reason people just flocked to him, and Rome understood they did it for various reasons, but while at work he tended to get into the zone and constantly being interrupted did little to improve his disposition. He could joke around like the rest of them, but when it came to work and racing, Rome was always serious and in the zone.

"That's me," Rome said, not saying anything further for a few seconds. He never gave out a lot of information about himself, after all, you never really knew who anyone was or who they knew in this world, right? "What can I do for you?" Christ, no doubt the kid wanted to get into the racing scene and somehow he thought Rome would jump at the chance to have a protege or some shit like that.

code by anna.
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SIMBA RIVERS
 Posted: Aug 25 2013, 07:50 PM
QUOTE  


front desk clerk » gramercy park hotel
20
YEARS OLD
190 posts




Group Icon
kris
IS Offline

plug me in and turn me on and flip the switch i'm as good as gone it slits my skin and trips my brain and feel the burn when i don't feel the pain


Not that Simba’s aware of this, but it’s pretty lucky that he doesn’t really know anything about racing. If he did, he’d probably know a lot more about Roman than the fact that this guy is the brother of a woman he stepped in front of a bullet for and also a pretty rough around the edges mechanic. Not that Simba can blame him. Being the kind of guy he is, while always receptive strangers, he’d be pretty wary of some weird man walking in asking him about his sister and life too. Perhaps he would even be as short as this man is being, though to be certain, Simba’s not the type to get visibly upset. At least, he wasn’t before being taken hostage. That day, something inside him had altered dramatically, and while Simba can’t yet identify what it is, he still feels that shift in how he views the world all the same.

His eyes continue to move around the garage as he talks, and the young man is sort of overcome by the sense of familiarity he feels being here. It’s been so long since he’s done something for himself that was just fun and relaxing and not spawned from a need to escape the loneliness that pervades his empty apartment. His job at the hotel is certainly a well-paying job (as well paying as it can be, anyway) and while there’s ample opportunity to grow as a person and to meet people, Simba’s not certain it’s what he wants to do forever. Then again, he has no idea what he wants to do with himself for the rest of his life.

So when Roman identifies himself and asks what he can do for Simba, it’s an impulse more than anything that generates Simba’s response. Somehow, he’s totally serious when he turns his gaze back to the older male and smiles a wide smile and says, “Well, actually sir, you wouldn’t happen to need an extra pair of hands around here, would you?” He should probably think about this, but Simba spends so much time thinking he figures he’s allowed one time to just do.

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