Post by jude maureen endsley on Jan 5, 2012 16:39:00 GMT -6
[atrb=style,width: 500px; background-color: B9B9B9; border: 10px dashed #754A4A; border-right: 15px solid #754A4A; border-left: 15px solid #754A4A; padding: 5px, bTable][th] jude endsley ESCORT, CITIZEN, LINDSAY ELLINGSON | |
 the basics FULL NAME jude maureen endsley AGE & DOB twenty-one | march 1st 1991 HOMETOWN valkyrie, california ETHNICITY caucasian LANGUAGES SPOKEN english, italian SEXUAL ORIENTATION straight HAIR COLOR blonde EYE COLOR blue HEIGHT & WEIGHT 5’11 | 120 lbs. DISTINGUISHING MARKS none. LIKES/DISLIKES likes: new york, snow, art, her job, traveling, money, winning, culture, success, snow boarding, singing in the shower, coffee shops, discovering quirky hang outs, italy, dresses, old books, music, underground bands, her macaw (henry), fashion, classiness, luxury, jewelry, elegance, parties, scenery, beauty, christmas, roses, tennis, dancing, movies, city lights, and broadway. dislikes: commitment, valkyrie, expectations, cats, kids, strong smells, being poor, relationships, carelessness, uncleanliness, vulgar music, parents, childhood, force, being mistaken for a prostitute, affection, cold showers, tabloids, ugly clothes, old things, emotional people, pity, winers, typical men, blood, needles, hospitals, school, excessive heat, most holidays, birthdays, dogs, most animals, dust, boats, flying, and the color orange. STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES "i'm very persuasive. i know how to lace my words just right so that i can get what i want. how do you think i passed high school? i guess you could call it charisma, but charismatic people tend to be war heroes, not social climbers in new york city. i'm also beautiful. let's just not beat around that push. i know i look like an all-american california girl. it gets me into places i normally couldn't go, and i can get jobs that the less attractive girls aren't going to have a shot at. if you were born without a brain, your face is your money, and my face is my money. not that i don't have a brain, but i'm more good looking than i am smart. as for weaknesses, i guess... well, i'm not as secure as i like to come off as. did you ever think beauty might be a curse? i'd much rather be bill gates than jude endsley. and while looks play a huge role, my personality and my past aren't fantastic. i'm scared that nobody could ever like me for me, that i'll always be stuck in this facade without a single true friend. i don't know if that makes sense, but it did in my head. i'm also ashamed, terribly ashamed of my past. its not nearly as bad as some people, but it doesn't change the fact that i hated it. it left me with a lot more scars than i'll ever be able to hide with smoke and mirrors." SECRETS "i don’t have a whole lot i'm hiding. i guess i don’t want people to know where i'm from, that i'm the white trash girl who lived in the part of valkyrie they don't show in all the brochures. i'm ashamed of it, yes. i hated where i came from, and everything about it. i don't talk about it, it's not a part of my life anymore. i'm not that girl anymore. another one? how pushy. well, i guess you could say i refuse to admit how.... how hurt i was over the break up. i don't know, it doesn't matter. i'm here now." | in depth |
PERSONALITY
"let's start with the positives, shall we? i'm very ambitious. i have goals, and i plan them out. i'm not one of those inactive dreamers, either. once i make my decisions, i go for it, and i won't stop until a better opportunity presents itself or i'm dead. though the latter hasn't happened yet, so i'm still fighting. i'm a fighter, it's what i do. i'm not the type to give up and walk away, i'll never do it. when i was a kid i told everybody that i would leave and go to new york. they all thought i'd live and die in valkyrie, but i did it, i did exactly what i told them i would. i wanted money, and i found it. i'm determined, and a hard worker. sure, my job is mainly glitz and glam, but it can be tiring living behind a facade. i'm basically an actress, just off screen. i've also been called audacious, which i guess is the same thing. i'm willing to throw myself balls in to a situation. i'm not afraid of trying new things or toeing the edge of danger. i've worked with a plethora of different people from different backgrounds. i'm sure some of them weren't as pure as linen snow, but that's not my problem. i'm focused, i'll go in and do what i was paid to do and get out. that's it. i don't care about the details. i'm self centered in that way. if it doesn't affect me, i don't care. i'm pretty laid back when i'm on my own. i guess i'll never get rid of that poor girl mannerism. i like eating fatty foods when nobody is watching. i have a sailor's mouth, but it's not elegant, so i try to refrain when i public. gosh, we're getting into the negatives already. well, i'm quite shallow. i care about money and looks and make up and luxury. i want it, i want it so badly. i don't get along with normal people, because it frustrates me how they don't care to do any better than where they are. i hate watching people settle. i'm also pretty vindictive. i'm not the type of girl you can walk all over, i'm more the type to walk all over somebody else. if somebody tries to take me down, i will unleash the same plots on that person ten fold. i like to scheme and put people into their place. but i know where my place is, too. i wouldn't try and take down some big shot who could eat me alive. i love to make people eat their words. i always want to finish on top, to be the best. lastly, i'm terrified of myself. my old self, i mean. i am ashamed of my past, and it broke me more than i'd like to admit. i know nobody will ever be able to love me, like truly, which is fine with me. love is for princesses and baby mommas."
FAMILY LIFE
”there’s nothing to tell. it's just your typical sob story about the poor shak girl with the temperamental father and spineless mother. i don’t know what else there is to say. i hated my home life, i got away from it as soon as i could.”
PARENTS/SIBLINGS
jim endsley, deceased
laura endsley, deceased
laura endsley, deceased
HISTORY
"my father was a drug dealer from los angeles. you see where this is going? he and my mom met when she was still in high school. she lived in valkyrie and had gone to a concert in los angeles with her friends for a weekend and met my father. they hit it off, and by that i mean they screwed. unluckily for them, i was a product of that first conception. surprisingly, the good for nothing druggie from los angeles moved to valkyrie, bought a cheap ass house that was falling apart in the shaks, and my mother dropped out of high school to become a mom and live with him. my grandparents disowned her after that. what a shame, because they had a lot of money. my grandfather was some big ceo in l.a., but i'm not reall sure of the details. i never met them. so that was the beginning of my wonderful childhood. i was born in valkyrie hospital. my mom named me jude because of the song, whatever. so that's what i grew up with. i lived in that little house in the shaks. it was one of the worse ones, too. i know some of them are decent, they just look middle class. mine was the literal cliche white trash house with the peeling white paint, scratched up floors, broken stove, holes in the walls, garbage in the front yard. it was disgusting, it probably would have been better to live in a garbage can. i mean it. our water always got turned off because we would run out of money, we were always of food stamps which my parents always forgot to use. i was the skinny girl with the dark eyes and the same dress. you think i'm lying, that i'm exagerrating. people like me only exist in movies, i know. i've heard it all. it's nice to have such an unbelievable story, because it keeps it hidden. it's like it never happened. i went to school like the other kids, but i didn't really have friends. there was a girl down the street i adored. her name was beth. she was in the same situation as me, basically. her mom died when she was a baby, and her father was stupidly drunk. she was probably my best friend, but oone day she stopped coming to school. when i went home that day, their were cops outside her house. apparently her dad had killed her and then himself. i guess i could be grateful that wasn't my fate. i loved beth, and i think she was the birth of my audacity. i was going to live so i wouldn't be like her. you could say i was going to live for both of us.
my father wasn't much better though. he eventually quit his drug dealing escapades and just sat around the house in an angry stupor. i should give credit to my mother. at least she tried to clean up the place, but i hate that woman, so let's leave the credit undistributed. my dad became abusive too. mostly just to my mom at first. i spent a lot of time at school, all the extra time i could. i stayed for tutoring even though i understood everything. i was desperate to stay outside of the walls of that house. sometimes the cops would come because the neighbors complained about all the yelling and screaming, but he would always tell the cops nothing happened, and my mother would defend him. she was an idiot, speaking in defense of the man that hit her. i had no respect for her. i dreamed about she and i running away from there, but we never did. she never wanted too. she had a job as a waitress at some local restaurant. good old dad took all the money to buy whatever illegal substances hewas addicted to, that and jack daniels. when my mom tried to put some money away, he would hit her. so she stopped trying and would just hand it over. it was pathetic. thank the lord almighty for school lunches, because otherwise i would have been completely malnourished. i still remember the degrading looks though, from everybody. the other kids, my teachers, the people who had watched my mom's fall from grace. it was miserable. i was ashamed to even be seen with them, or walking up to that house. when people asked me if i was laura blackwell's daughter, i hated to answer. it was embarrassing to be that family, to be those people who other parents didnt want their kids talking to, the one's teachers looked at with pity in their eyes but were helpless to do anything about it. i was dangerously jealous of the valk kids. i wanted their hair ribbons and pretty dresses. i wanted to be dropped off at school in a shiny red convertible, or have a mom that would give me a kiss and leave her shiny lip gloss on my cheek. it sounds stupid, but as a little kid... that seemed desirable. i wanted parents who grounded me or got mad when i didn't have straight a's. the other kids didn't understand what they had, i guess.
i remember the first time my dad hit me. i was ten. i yelled at him, because i hated my life. i wanted him to get a job and be like the other kids' dads. i wanted him to make money and take my mom out on dates. he didn't like that though, so out came the fist. i remember crying, but it was the last time i ever cried. i don't cry anymore, to this day. i just can't. all the other times he hit me i remember just thinking about how i was going to leave and never come back. i was determined, and nothing was going to stop me. he'd have to kill me to prevent me from leaving. he didn't hit me as often as my mom, but it was often enough. sometimes he would hit me just for going to school, or for not making him dinner. it was irrational, and i was a kid. i couldn't understand his thought process, and today i still can't. when i came of age for high school,i got a job at a diner as a bus boy, or girl. i barely ever went home because i would spend all day at school and work late shifts at the diner. i did so well in elementary and middle school that i was offered a scholarship to go to the academy. it made me snicker at all those other shak or middle class kids who had looked down on me, those ones who would never go to the academy because they couldn't afford it. i learned how to bargain shop and filled my wardrobe so i wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb against all the valk kids. i grew into a pretty swan, but i was still the endsley girl. it still made people turn their noses up at me. i stopped caring though, because i was going to go to new york, i was going their as soon as i turned eighteen and nobody was going to stop me. on occasion my dad would still catch me and give me a punch. i'd make up excuses at work and school over it. i guess i was no better than my mother, but who cared about the dirt poor people? nobody. nobody was coming to my rescue, i had stopped hoping for that years ago.
i raised up as much money as i could through high school. i grew to resent both of my parents. i never spoke to either of them. i would come and leave, that was it. i walked everywhere, and i excelled at the academy. only because i had such a drive and good work ethic. i never would have survived had i tried to be one of those brilliant people who barely study and ace the test. i worked my ass off for my grades. i got a good job as a waitress at some local restaurant, and i even got a pay raise for working so well. my boss was probably the only person who didn't treat me like scum on her shoes, though she was new in town, so that may have been part of it. so i worked and i earned and when my eighteenth birthday came around, i bought a one way plane ticket to new york. one day i went to school, or that's what my parents though, and instead i got on that plane with everything i owned and ended up in new york city. i got a job quickly there, in a pizza parlor. i moved into a slummy apartment where i'm pretty sure i was the only fair skinned, blonde girl. there were a lot of foreigners. my neighbor was some guy from italy, he was nice. he and his sister lived together, had me over for dinner almost every night. i was exalted to be free. it was like... like i had been chained underground and this was my first time seeing the sun. that's what it felt like when i moved to new york. i loved the big city, the hustle and bustle, and how nobody really treated me any different thhan they would treat other strangers. i finished my high school online since i only had a few months to go before i graduated. and nobody ever came looking for me. i guess you could say i was a missing person who nobody missed at all. my mother did contact me a year after i moved to the big city to tell me my dad had died of liver failure and was having a funeral. i don't know why she bothered. i never got back to her. i didn't go to that funeral. i felt nothing about his death. she also told me she had gotten reacquainted with my grandmother who had recently died. she inherited that house. good for her, but i had no interest in returning there.
i met people in new york, and i ended up becoming a high class escort. oh, don't give me that look. i wasn't sleeping with anybody, hence the "high-class" part. it paid extraordinairily well. it wasn't long before i moved out of my dingy apartment into a more expensive one with a nice view. i was quite popular amongst new york's high and mighty. and those high and mighty men paid me well. except for one, mr. diego santos. he was some rich venezuelan with a questionable line of work. the cheap ass didn't even pay me, but he gave me my best friend, so i'm okay with it. as pay he gave me a green macaw. i think it may have belonged to somebody he killed and it needed a home, but that's just my conspiracy theory. i've been known for my paranoia. i named my exotic bird henry, and he's the only real friend i have to this day. i even got paid once with a trip to italy. i loved it so much i stayed there in florence for six months, i even picked up on the language. new york was my true love though, so i went back. being an escort introduced me to the fabulous side of new york, the money, the elegance. it was addictive. i loved the parties and the pretend niceness. i adored the lavish jewelry. i became one of new york's wealthy bachelorettes, and i came from nothing. it's funny how things work that way. where escorting really got complicated was when i met stefan marx. he was the heir to his father's company. he was rich. and he was good looking. he had hired me one night because his mother had insisted he bring a date, and i guess he was sick of the women who were really trying to marry him off. we kind of hit it off though. we didn't fall in love, nothing like that, but stefan was looking for a trophy wife, and i was looking for money. we were a perfect match. it wasn't long before we were engaged. this is all quite recent, mind you. i was the soon to be mrs. stefan marx. until he found out i was the white trash girl from valkyrie, california. he said he couldn't be polluting his bloodline, that he should be marrying an heiress. i got a lot of cash out of him, and pretty presents, so i went away quietly. i don't think that was the real reason. i was almost positive he was sleeping with other women during our engagement anyways. he just didn't want to give up his glory days. he was young. who blamed him?
i didn't realize how much his rejection hurt me until after i'd left. i couldn't explain the sadness. i guess i'd come to think of him as my friend. he was the closest person i'd been to in a long time. it was only days after our break up that i got the letter informing me my mother died of cancer. that was a few weeks ago. apparently i'd inherited my grandparents old house in valkyrie's hills. well, i had nowhere to go at the moment, and my grandparents were rich, may as well go off and collect the inheritence, right? so here i am. i guess i'll be living in their house for the time being. it's nice, victorian. just how i like it. and it's surrounded by orange groves. who doesn't love oranges? though i can't say that i enjoy being in valkyrie, but i need this inheritence. being here makes me feel like jude endsley pre-new york."
[/td][/tr]my father wasn't much better though. he eventually quit his drug dealing escapades and just sat around the house in an angry stupor. i should give credit to my mother. at least she tried to clean up the place, but i hate that woman, so let's leave the credit undistributed. my dad became abusive too. mostly just to my mom at first. i spent a lot of time at school, all the extra time i could. i stayed for tutoring even though i understood everything. i was desperate to stay outside of the walls of that house. sometimes the cops would come because the neighbors complained about all the yelling and screaming, but he would always tell the cops nothing happened, and my mother would defend him. she was an idiot, speaking in defense of the man that hit her. i had no respect for her. i dreamed about she and i running away from there, but we never did. she never wanted too. she had a job as a waitress at some local restaurant. good old dad took all the money to buy whatever illegal substances hewas addicted to, that and jack daniels. when my mom tried to put some money away, he would hit her. so she stopped trying and would just hand it over. it was pathetic. thank the lord almighty for school lunches, because otherwise i would have been completely malnourished. i still remember the degrading looks though, from everybody. the other kids, my teachers, the people who had watched my mom's fall from grace. it was miserable. i was ashamed to even be seen with them, or walking up to that house. when people asked me if i was laura blackwell's daughter, i hated to answer. it was embarrassing to be that family, to be those people who other parents didnt want their kids talking to, the one's teachers looked at with pity in their eyes but were helpless to do anything about it. i was dangerously jealous of the valk kids. i wanted their hair ribbons and pretty dresses. i wanted to be dropped off at school in a shiny red convertible, or have a mom that would give me a kiss and leave her shiny lip gloss on my cheek. it sounds stupid, but as a little kid... that seemed desirable. i wanted parents who grounded me or got mad when i didn't have straight a's. the other kids didn't understand what they had, i guess.
i remember the first time my dad hit me. i was ten. i yelled at him, because i hated my life. i wanted him to get a job and be like the other kids' dads. i wanted him to make money and take my mom out on dates. he didn't like that though, so out came the fist. i remember crying, but it was the last time i ever cried. i don't cry anymore, to this day. i just can't. all the other times he hit me i remember just thinking about how i was going to leave and never come back. i was determined, and nothing was going to stop me. he'd have to kill me to prevent me from leaving. he didn't hit me as often as my mom, but it was often enough. sometimes he would hit me just for going to school, or for not making him dinner. it was irrational, and i was a kid. i couldn't understand his thought process, and today i still can't. when i came of age for high school,i got a job at a diner as a bus boy, or girl. i barely ever went home because i would spend all day at school and work late shifts at the diner. i did so well in elementary and middle school that i was offered a scholarship to go to the academy. it made me snicker at all those other shak or middle class kids who had looked down on me, those ones who would never go to the academy because they couldn't afford it. i learned how to bargain shop and filled my wardrobe so i wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb against all the valk kids. i grew into a pretty swan, but i was still the endsley girl. it still made people turn their noses up at me. i stopped caring though, because i was going to go to new york, i was going their as soon as i turned eighteen and nobody was going to stop me. on occasion my dad would still catch me and give me a punch. i'd make up excuses at work and school over it. i guess i was no better than my mother, but who cared about the dirt poor people? nobody. nobody was coming to my rescue, i had stopped hoping for that years ago.
i raised up as much money as i could through high school. i grew to resent both of my parents. i never spoke to either of them. i would come and leave, that was it. i walked everywhere, and i excelled at the academy. only because i had such a drive and good work ethic. i never would have survived had i tried to be one of those brilliant people who barely study and ace the test. i worked my ass off for my grades. i got a good job as a waitress at some local restaurant, and i even got a pay raise for working so well. my boss was probably the only person who didn't treat me like scum on her shoes, though she was new in town, so that may have been part of it. so i worked and i earned and when my eighteenth birthday came around, i bought a one way plane ticket to new york. one day i went to school, or that's what my parents though, and instead i got on that plane with everything i owned and ended up in new york city. i got a job quickly there, in a pizza parlor. i moved into a slummy apartment where i'm pretty sure i was the only fair skinned, blonde girl. there were a lot of foreigners. my neighbor was some guy from italy, he was nice. he and his sister lived together, had me over for dinner almost every night. i was exalted to be free. it was like... like i had been chained underground and this was my first time seeing the sun. that's what it felt like when i moved to new york. i loved the big city, the hustle and bustle, and how nobody really treated me any different thhan they would treat other strangers. i finished my high school online since i only had a few months to go before i graduated. and nobody ever came looking for me. i guess you could say i was a missing person who nobody missed at all. my mother did contact me a year after i moved to the big city to tell me my dad had died of liver failure and was having a funeral. i don't know why she bothered. i never got back to her. i didn't go to that funeral. i felt nothing about his death. she also told me she had gotten reacquainted with my grandmother who had recently died. she inherited that house. good for her, but i had no interest in returning there.
i met people in new york, and i ended up becoming a high class escort. oh, don't give me that look. i wasn't sleeping with anybody, hence the "high-class" part. it paid extraordinairily well. it wasn't long before i moved out of my dingy apartment into a more expensive one with a nice view. i was quite popular amongst new york's high and mighty. and those high and mighty men paid me well. except for one, mr. diego santos. he was some rich venezuelan with a questionable line of work. the cheap ass didn't even pay me, but he gave me my best friend, so i'm okay with it. as pay he gave me a green macaw. i think it may have belonged to somebody he killed and it needed a home, but that's just my conspiracy theory. i've been known for my paranoia. i named my exotic bird henry, and he's the only real friend i have to this day. i even got paid once with a trip to italy. i loved it so much i stayed there in florence for six months, i even picked up on the language. new york was my true love though, so i went back. being an escort introduced me to the fabulous side of new york, the money, the elegance. it was addictive. i loved the parties and the pretend niceness. i adored the lavish jewelry. i became one of new york's wealthy bachelorettes, and i came from nothing. it's funny how things work that way. where escorting really got complicated was when i met stefan marx. he was the heir to his father's company. he was rich. and he was good looking. he had hired me one night because his mother had insisted he bring a date, and i guess he was sick of the women who were really trying to marry him off. we kind of hit it off though. we didn't fall in love, nothing like that, but stefan was looking for a trophy wife, and i was looking for money. we were a perfect match. it wasn't long before we were engaged. this is all quite recent, mind you. i was the soon to be mrs. stefan marx. until he found out i was the white trash girl from valkyrie, california. he said he couldn't be polluting his bloodline, that he should be marrying an heiress. i got a lot of cash out of him, and pretty presents, so i went away quietly. i don't think that was the real reason. i was almost positive he was sleeping with other women during our engagement anyways. he just didn't want to give up his glory days. he was young. who blamed him?
i didn't realize how much his rejection hurt me until after i'd left. i couldn't explain the sadness. i guess i'd come to think of him as my friend. he was the closest person i'd been to in a long time. it was only days after our break up that i got the letter informing me my mother died of cancer. that was a few weeks ago. apparently i'd inherited my grandparents old house in valkyrie's hills. well, i had nowhere to go at the moment, and my grandparents were rich, may as well go off and collect the inheritence, right? so here i am. i guess i'll be living in their house for the time being. it's nice, victorian. just how i like it. and it's surrounded by orange groves. who doesn't love oranges? though i can't say that i enjoy being in valkyrie, but i need this inheritence. being here makes me feel like jude endsley pre-new york."
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the player
ALIAS becca.
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE seven million.
OTHER CHARACTERS a lot.
HOW'D YOU FIND US? don’t remember.
RP SAMPLE
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE seven million.
OTHER CHARACTERS a lot.
HOW'D YOU FIND US? don’t remember.
RP SAMPLE
i refuse.
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