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Jamie Rhodes

"What's the harm in a little affair?"

0 · 670 views · located in New York

a character in “Beyond the Veil”, as played by Scarlet Loup




Full Name

James Alexander Rhodes


He's gone by the nickname Jamie since he was a boy and he uses it still.


Founder of Rhodes' Automobiles which failed soon after his death

Dead or Alive?


Birthday (and Deathday if applicable)

May 14th, 1891-October 31st, 1922




Condo 7, 3rd Floor




Six feet, two inches


One hundred, sixty pounds

"What's the harm in a little affair?"



Jamie Rhodes was and still is the epitome of the twenties. He's a businessman through and through with a taste for crowds and hard liquor. He's sleazy at times but, more often than not, quite sweet and charming. It is, after all, how he won over his wife. Jamie is also an extreme extrovert. The idea of being alone frightens him and is what drives him to mend the gap that has formed between him and Claire. He has a fear, however, of the ever-changing world and how quickly one gets left behind in it. The idea of so many cars and so many different types is intimidating and only reminds him of his failure as a businessman.

Though he's quite intelligent, Jamie is disorganized and clumsy in movements and thoughts. He tends to lose track of his ideas or keeps them on random slips of paper throughout the condo he shares with Claire. His bring-up and the ideals of his parents instilled a need for money in him that he still focuses on in the afterlife. He has a constant need and want to be one step ahead of others to prove himself better and more dominant.

As shown by his affair, he tends to think he is better than others and entitled to freedom to do what he wants, regardless of consequences. In this case, he felt entitled to having another relationship because of the failure his marriage was. He doesn't mean is maliciously, of course, it is another idea that was instilled in him since he was born.



+ Jazz Music
+ Strong liquor
+ Company, especially in the form of parties
+ Claire Rhodes
+ "Organized disorder"
+ Sarcasm
+ Newspapers
+ Heavy rain or snow
+ "Exciting conversation"
+ Money
- Modern technology
- Prolonged silence
- Being unable to find his belongings
- Being overburdened
- Animals that shed
- Being unable to leave the block
- Most public places (somewhat of a germaphobe)
- Not being the owner of his home anymore
- The sound of cars
- Extreme cold



X Spending the afterlife alone
X Losing Claire's affection
X Being forgotten
X Moving "beyond the veil" and finding out it is an empty void
* Loses track of his belongings
* Overbearing, likes to be in control of a situation and grows anxious when he isn't
* Quite uncoordinated
* Not very physically strong



Jamie Rhodes is a natural born businessman and leader. He's quite conniving and thinks to the future often when making decisions. He also has a certain, old-timey charm about him.

“Don't think money does everything or you are going to end up doing everything for money.”



Jamie Rhodes was born in May of 1891, snuggled right in the midst of the Progressive Era and in the decline of the Gilded Age. He was the son of a electric company CEO whose paycheck dwarfed the combined pay of the fresh-off-the-boat immigrants and of a woman whose only job in life was to look beautiful. It was a carefree life, obviously, for Jamie had nothing to want. He was a popular, charming young boy who gained favor quickly with many of his father's peers in the business world. Stubborn and conceited, he was much like his own father and, of course, knew he would have to follow in the man's footsteps.

Jamie Rhodes attended Yale University with a major in business at the wishes of his father. Though he wished only to live off of his father's stockpile of cash, he grew quite fond of the business life as he made connections. After graduating cum laude, Jamie returned to New York with a business plan in mind. These were placed abruptly on hold, however, when Jamie was called away to World War I. It was a traumatic experience he still doesn't share, but James Rhodes returned as quite the war hero who was ready to get down to business.

The boom in the economy that followed World War I sparked the success of his automobile company: Rhodes' Automobiles. It wasn't a very creative name, but it certainly helped that his last name sounded very car-oriented. With the boom in the automobile industry, Jamie's business made him one of New York's most prominent businessmen. It was through the connections that he made in business that he eventually met Claire, his future wife.

The two met and were married extremely shortly. For a while, this marriage appeared perfect in every way. They were a friendly, flirty couple and spent parties by the side of the other. Soon after he commissioned their masterpiece of a house outside of New York City, their marriage began to crumble. Harsh words were exchanged in private and Jamie found himself straying from Claire and turning to a woman barely out of high school he had met. On Halloween of 1922, Claire raised a revolver and blew his brains out after a particularly harsh argument. She killed herself right after.

When Wall Street crashed, Rhodes' Automobiles failed, too. Jamie had no need for money, of course, but he was distraught with the news nonetheless. After a few years of lurking around the house alone, he would go out and spend his time at bars or clubs-- anywhere he could get away from Claire and the reminder of their failed marriage. Over the years, he's been unable to travel as far away from the home. Now, he can only go halfway down the block before being "teleported" back. Jamie's attempted to fix the gap between him and Claire because he fears they'll be alone forever at this rate...but is it enough?

FaceClaim || Tom Hiddleston

So begins...

Jamie Rhodes's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harvey Klein Character Portrait: Jamie Rhodes Character Portrait: Katherine Klein
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Harvey stood before the display of liquor with an expression of concern plastered on his countenance. The cart beside him stood piled him with enough food and drink for an army or, in his case, a house full of mooching ghosts. That was a rude way to put it, he knew, but Harvey couldn't help but grow angry every time they sent him out here. The cashiers would shoot glances at him every time, for they knew his face and had it memorized. Perhaps they though he was running a cult of some sort and was supplying his followers with sustenance. Instead, he was trying to ease the burden of the eternal entrapment his fellow borders were cursed with. They all knew ghosts had no need for food, but they still asked for it. Perhaps it eased the pain of never leaving the "afterlife". Harvey knew not the reason, nor did he wish to know. As long as they were happy, he was happy. He had made a promise when he inherited the house and he refused to break it.
Donning a thick, parka-like jacket and a scarf, Harvey looked down at the many bottles of liquor. Get me some giggle water, Jamie had demanded. What a stupid slang term, Harvey had thought. He'd never strayed toward strong liquor himself, but he had cigarettes and caffeine to make up for that. He also, of course, had his wine. At least he drank that in moderation. Now, as he looked down at the rack of whiskey bottles, he couldn't remember which brand the boozer had requested. There were Kentucky bourbons and Tennessee whiskeys and corn whiskeys and rye whiskeys and blended was enough to drive a man insane. Then again, Harvey already knew he wasn't quite sane anymore. How was one capable of retaining sanity when their only friends were ghosts?

With desperation taking over, Harvey sudden grabbed for a bottle of Jack Daniels and tossed it into the cart. It was a popular whiskey, right? As he moved through the store toward the check out counter, he absentmindedly lit himself a cigarette and held it up to his lips. Oh yes, he would also have to stock up on packs of cigarettes. Thredson blew through a pack a day most times. Still without thinking, he loaded his pile of findings on to the conveyor belt. It wasn't until the cashier spoke to him that he blinked his eyes back into focus.

"Sir, there's no smoking allowed it here," she said, eyes narrowing at him as she jerked a thumb toward the sign he knew so well depicting a crudely drawn cigarette surrounded by a circle and then bisected by a red slash. Yes, he knew there was no smoking allowed.

"Right...sorry," he said slowly, removing the still-smoking death stick from his mouth. He glanced around for an ashtray, but found nothing. Instead, he discretely dropped the cigarette o the tile floor and crushed it with his heel, hoping the woman behind the counter didn't notice. She did, but didn't bother to complain. Harvey was, after all, one of the best customers they had. Every week his total spending easily exceeded $200. After the acne-ridden boy bagged Harvey's groceries, he pushed his cart out into the light downfall of snow.

It was December 15th, ten days from Christmas in New York and, well, across the world. Christmas shopping was over, thank God, but he still could not shake the stress he felt. Years ago, he and Katherine had gone shopping together for everything. He was alone now and had to do the shopping for the both of them. Harvey closed the back door of his silver Honda Pilot after strategically piling the grocery bags. Situated, he climbed into the front seat and shoved his key sloppily into the ignition, scratching the plastic around it and adding another white line to the many that had accumulated since he bought the car. He wasn't usually clumsy; he just wasn't too coordinated when his mind dwelt on other things. As he drove toward the dreaded Murder House, Harvey lit up another cigarette and puffed from it slowly. He should have kicked this habit. Hell, he'd kicked it when he started dating Katherine. But, the overwhelming stress had fueled the retrogression into a vulnerable.

Time flew as he drove home. Harvey even sat in the car for a minute or two before he realized he was home. It was a relative term. The only reason it actually felt anything like home was because Katherine was there. Otherwise, the house was foreboding and unwelcoming, but it felt that way even with Katherine there.

With his arms full of bags, Harvey started up the stairs into the old, Victorian-style home. Harvey shakily moved a hand out from beneath the bags and started to turn the knob of the door. He was met with resistance and snarled a curse as he realized it was still locked. A minute later, he was inside and walking down the hallway to his own condo inside the house. Again, he was forced to stop and unlock the door before entering. Balancing the bags precariously, he pushed the door open with his back and entered the flat.

"Katherine? I'm back!" he shouted, moving toward the kitchen with his bags. Harvey knew not if she was in the condo right now but, hopefully, she'd heard him yelling from wherever she was.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lillian Woodward Character Portrait: Jamie Rhodes Character Portrait: Claire Rhodes
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The backyard of his house was wonderful this time of year. Well, technically, it was Claire's home, for he had built it as a gift to her. But, they were both trapped here in this hellhole, so it was his home just as much as it was hers. White flakes dusted the aged patio furniture and the ornate stone walkway that circled from the front of the house to the back. Jamie still remembered when it had been placed years and years before. His non-beating heart felt as if it were being torn from his body when the modern machines rolled across the grass to dig up the lawn. This was his masterpiece, and it was trashed by the new occupants. Jamie hadn't mourned for a second when the father fell down the stairs the winter after building the patio and died.

Sprawled across the ebony chaise in the living room, Jamie let out a slow, dejected sigh. His lanky right arm draped down on to the floor where he swirled a tumbler of scotch and soda slowly in a clockwise rotation. He had been this way for an hour or so. At least, that was what he thought. Time dragged along sloth-like nowadays. What was the purpose of waking up anymore, really? In a painfully slow manner, Jamie raised the glass to his lips and sipped it slowly. He was usually quite melodramatic when hungover, or rather, he was melodramatic when he believed he was hungover. He hadn't suffered a hangover in ages.

The pounding in his head threatened to burst his skull. With a loud grunt, Jamie sat himself up and pulled his knees to his chest. For a few seconds, the tycoon shoved his head between his knees to try and shelter his sensitive eyes from the sunlight. But he'd caught a glimpse of the snow laying in a thin layer on the yard outside and quickly looked up, all thoughts of a hangover gone. Like a child, Jamie draped his arms over the back of the chaise and rested his chin on his hands as he longingly looked outside. New York City would be beautiful with this snowfall. Well, the New York he remembered. A reminiscent smile crossed his lips, lingered for a little, and then faded. No use in crying over spilt milk, right? That was his father's mantra and it had been burned into Jamie's mind since he was a boy.

"Claire!" he suddenly shouted, not even sure if his wife was still in their condo. "I'm going out!" Why was he even saying it? It wasn't like she cared where he went, or when he went out. Besides, he couldn't really go any further than half a block or so. With his glass of scotch and soda in hand, Jamie stood and exited the condo. Slowly, he closed the door behind himself. She most likely would not believe him. He rarely even set foot on the other floors of the "Murder House". He hated that name. Murder House. It was a vulgar name for a place he loved so dearly. Sure, it had been the location of its fair share of deaths, but it made all of the occupants, even him, sound like morbid serial killers. It was certainly not the impression he wanted to leave on the world.

Walking softly, Jamie crossed the hall and rapped his knuckles against the door of the opposite condo. "Lil?" he called softly, turning his back to her door to watch in case Claire came out after him. "You in there...?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lillian Woodward Character Portrait: Jamie Rhodes
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Lillian hummed lightly to velvety tones which played through her phonograph; her heart breaking with every note played, but through such mediums was Lillian’s way of hurting herself. She couldn’t do it physically for she was already dead, but she could still destroy herself emotionally and that was something she did on a daily basis. Her condo was dark that morning, the heavy velvet drapes drawn across the large bay windows, not allowing even the slightest bit of sunshine to break through and that was how she wanted it. Lillian wanted the darkness, in fact she craved it.

She hadn’t always been like this, there had been a time when the young, vivacious, beautiful, Lillian Woodward was the life and soul of every party, her smile could cheer even the darkest of souls and yet that version seemed nothing more than a distant memory now. Back then she had been naive, foolish even; she believed she could have had the world had she desired it and for a long time the world was in fact her oyster. She had dreamed of being an actress, seeing her face upon the big screen and marrying her leading man-it’s quite funny how life seems to have a way of kicking your dreams to the curb. The desolation of her dreams had begun with a chance meeting with New York Tycoon, Jamie Rhodes and from then on in things had begun to spiral. Love had a funny way of changing a woman, after a few months of seeing the man Lillian had been prepared to give up everything to be with him, but of course the man she loved had a wife and so instead she settled on being his mistress. It was all so warped, she had listened to Jamie day in and out complain about his wife, believing with each day that past he would leave the woman soon, so that they could be together truly just as they were suppose to-but that wasn’t to happen.

The next part was still too much for Lillian to think about and even now, in death, it still saddened her to know that her love had been murdered. Their reunion in the afterlife after had been bittersweet, why, you may ask? Little James Junior had been the reason, or JJ as Lillian had affectionately named him upon his birth- her and Jamie’s son, the only light in her life for years after Jamie’s death. He had been her world and even though they did not have much, they had each other and a love eternal, but after her child died, Lillian lost everything, her joy, her light…her hope. There was nothing left for her after that and with a silk scarf she had hung herself in what had been Jamie’s office- it was a melodramatic cliché, but a cliché none-the-less.

Sitting at her beautiful mahogany dressing table, Lillian rubbed the faint red lines around her pale neck, which served as a constant reminder of cowardly escape. Often she hid the marks with scarves or various necklaces, but they were always present, always haunting her. Hearing a knocking at her front door, Lillian froze for a moment wondering who it could be, usually the children of the so-called ‘murder house’ came knocking, however she had not been expecting them today. Familiar masculine tones floated over the sound of the melodies, indicating that Jamie was the man in question. Rising from the padded stool, Lillian grabbed her silk robe from her bed, slipping it on before leaving the confides of her bedroom.

As she pulled back the door she quirked her eyebrow slightly, “Of course I am in. Where else could I possibly go?” She taunted slightly, some jest coming through in her voice, “come in handsome, before the missus see’s you.”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jamie Rhodes Character Portrait: Claire Rhodes
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#, as written by spayce

Claire crossed the day off the calendar in their bedroom as soon as she slipped into her light blue dress and lace stockings.
She sat down in the small chair (bought and paid for with her own money) beside the window, closed her eyes, and swept all the clutter of her conscious thoughts from her mind. It was like sweeping a floor. Lift the rug of your subconscious and sweep the dirt under. Good-bye. She opened her eyes and looked out the window. A bumblebee flew towards her, and hit the glass. She giggled and wondering how it's tiny wings could carry it's fat little body. Her eyes followed Oliver standing by Caleb and Sara, then shut the curtains quickly.
When she saw Oliver it brought back memories of her years of therapy she had been in since she was twelve. She used to depend on narcotic drugs and her psychologist to take responsibility of her mental health, but now it felt like she had no one to depend on. She stopped going to therapy when she was in her twenties, and things began to fall apart in her mind. After death things were beginning to feel strange again, like little bridges of anxiety building inside of her, that her child's world was about to collapse
"Claire!" Jamie shouted. "I'm going out!"
Claire was silent. She crouched on the staircase, waiting for him to leave. After death, the sound of Jamie's voice was like ripping off a scab and feeling the blood rush to the surface again. She knew that when Jamie needed an escape he used Lillian. Dislike rose in her throat like a paper snake. She was sick of ghosts and strangers that couldn't hold her when she wanted the warmth of another being.