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Starling O'Hara

"One trick ahead of disaster!"

0 · 395 views · located in A small town

a character in “It All Started With A Book”, as played by Youngblood Prince


|[Full Name: Starling Jay O'Hara]|
|[Goes by: Usually his first or last name, rarely his middle.]|

|[Age: Seventeen]|

|[Sexuality: Homoflexible]|

|[Role: Teen III]|
|[Story: Aladdin; Starling first found the book when he was very young in a box of free things on the street, and fell in love with it, although he promptly lost the book, and couldn't remember the name to tell anyone about it or, being a child, properly express what the story was about. After having given up, he finally saw the Disney film version and hasn't forgotten about it since.]|


|[Hair: Black/Brunette]|
|[Eyes: Hazel]|
|[Height: 5'7"]|

|[Distinguishing Marks]|
Having been skating for the majority of his life, Starling naturally has some scars. Both knees and both elbows are covered in scrape scars, and his palms and wrists are similarly treated. He has a scar on the back of his neck from a minor surgery that had to be done in his teens, and scars across his calves, hips, and any other bony protruding part of him, of which there are many. He has three small mostly round birthmarks on his left thumb on the outside of his hand.
Local legend says that the tattoo on Starling's left cheekbone is a gang initiation tattoo; it's not; it's just a little homage to his Christian upbringing. For a seventeen year old, he has a lot of tattoos.
The first, important tattoo is the one on Starling's neck on the left side; and a matching one on the right hand. On his right arm, there's a skull design on his bicep and a variety of smaller designs on his forearm, as well as some larger, more intricate black and white work and a spiderweb across his elbow. His left bicep is adorned with flower outlines and designs. He has a collection of further tattoos, as well. [Reference Face Claim for tattoos.]

|[Clothing & Items]|
Starling dresses like you would expect of a skater. Often seen without a shirt when in leisure, Starling is commonly in skateparks in only shorts or ripped jeans and whatever skate shoes he tossed on that day. He generally wears whatever he can afford that looks half decent on him, and pockets are a must for him. He's absolutely never seen without at least one skateboard.


A born rebel, Starling will commonly do things simply because they're against the rules. Starling is fiercely loyal to his friends, and to skate culture in general. He finds interest in most alternative culture indulgences; tattoo art, punk music and hip hop. Still, unexpectedly, Starling is rather not intimidating most of the time. He seems laid back, almost a little shy, and rather quiet most of the time. Not like the type of guy who could knock you down with a single punch. He closes off any suffering he goes through for the most part, and is good at modulating emotional expression. It's hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling at any one moment and he's mastered the 'thousand mile stare'.

Starling spends most of his free time at the skatepark or attempting to keep scraping by in high school. He also frequents the library just across the street from the skatepark which he's most often found in, and, surprisingly enough, is endlessly curious and has a voracious appetite for literature and trivia. It's a little hard to get Starling to talk about his interests and passions, but when he does, he won't stop talking.

Half decent with guitar and vocals, he has dreams about being anything but a drop out and wishes he could either become a professional skateboarder or a musician. He has a talent for those things and memory, mostly. He's much worse with people, and with staying on task when he's disinterested in something. He has problems focusing and in a stressful situation his brain tends to turn off, so he has issues under pressure. He won't generally stop being quiet and relatively shy around a person until the third or fourth time meeting them, and even then it can be difficult to become his friend if only for how nervous he can get when people start getting close to him.

Having been raised in a Christian home, Starling is a little prone to a certain brand of self hatred despite his passion for the rebellious arts. He wishes he did better with himself, and hopes he still can and is often riddled with everyday regrets. That said, living in such a place taught him independence and a good deal of street culture at a young age, due to his tendency to try to escape it, and it taught him 'proper Christian manners' even if he usually elects to ignore them. This means he could do well if put in a rather uncomfortable party setting, and has saved him with elderly people and police a good time or two. Prone to getting caught up in his own head or in little things, Starling isn't great at getting things done, but he tries to push himself to have good work ethic when he can. He does his best in most things, although he's no stranger to sabotaging himself on the regular. He has deep-hung passions and a great hunger for the world around him.

Starling was born in Chicago, on the tail end of a punkwave revolution, to a pair of humorless parish members. His father was a Catholic priest, his mother an ex-heroin dealer who didn't share her secret past with his father until Starling was much older.
He was a sickly baby, kept in the hospital long past when he should have needed to, and a breach birth. His mother, a poet, always said that he was born with feet searching for open air, and that walking on the ground never felt quite right for him. Perhaps that was why, at four years old, his mother gave into his beggings, and got him a miniature children's skateboard, if only to get him to have something to do that wasn't climbing the highest thing around and trying to fly from it. As a child, he was incessantly physically active despite his tendency toward weak bones and a weaker immune system. By five he'd survived salmonella, influenza, and had had his tonsils removed due to infection, as well as having broken four bones.
By the time Starling turned ten, however, he'd broken nearly twenty bones and his parents were getting sick of it. They started cracking down more, then, trying to teach Starling to be the proper Christian boy his birthright dictated he should be, but as this happened, Starling simply spent more and more time outside, away from his family, and learning how to skateboard more or less better than he could walk.
A good thing, too; as his mother and father became more frustrated with the seemingly dead-end lives it seemed they'd been dealt, they took their frustrations more and more out on the child who was the 'biggest disappointment of their adult careers', whatever that meant. Starling did his best to avoid them, to remain entirely neutral to their words and not let self loathing touch him.
He failed, when he began high school he's parred his reputation down to nothing but a skateboard, he'd made his identity nothing but that. He was not his birthright and he didn't have friends at school; his friends were in the skatepark after school, they were in the crew Starling slipped into at just fifteen. They were in the alleys and the streets. Starling considered himself a lost art, the streetwise twentyfirst century comeback kid.
By just before his seventeenth, Starling was dealing with physical attacks on top of emotional ones, it didn't take long for high school to get hard, too. He told his parents he'd be spending the night with a friend, packed all the belongings he really cared about in a bag, and took off to crash on an older friend's couch. He's been there since, devising a way to find himself an apartment before he turns eighteen because that seems entirely too far away.

So begins...

Starling O'Hara's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Starling O'Hara
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{ ((Note: I finally finished his history so this post actually makes sense. Sorry for the short post, you caught me first thing in the morning. Haven't even had coffee yet.)) }
{ 366 }
Too say it was quiet, far too-quiet, when Starling returned from school, slinging his bag off his shoulder as soon as he was inside Sabeen's apartment, would be two things; an understatement, and a cliche.

Starling had been living with Sabeen for two months now; she was part of his aspiring 'band to be', light eyed and dark haired with olive skin and the kind of build which would make most men shiver just to be near her. From Starling's point of view, she was so much less mysterious and attractive than first appearances tended to tell. She was down to earth, and perhaps one of the people with whom Starling could get along with easiest, and of course, the fact that she was letting him crash at her apartment until he was eighteen so he didn't have to go home often (if at all) meant the world to him.

Sabeen was also one of the loudest living people Starling had ever met; she never left a room without leaving at least one music player or television screen on, she never let silence seep into her home except when she herself wasn't in it. Which meant, maybe, just maybe, Starling could finish some homework and actually not fail physics. He leaned his skateboard against the coffee table, a cursory glance around the room confirmed Sabeen wasn't around, and her more-used skateboard was absent from the rack she'd built on the wall, as well. Starling dragged his school bag over and flipping through the contents until he came to his physics notebook.

Starling managed to kill an hour and a half with the one assignment, then he abandoned his venture for flicking through the twelve channels Sabeen's television got unpaid, and after that, Starling ran out of things to do, so he popped in one of Sabeen's Disney DVDs and went to the kitchen to make dinner as the disk began playing through the opening of Aladdin. Starling kept peering around the dividing wall to take looks at the screen while dipping back into the kitchen to dice garlic and chicken.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rapunzel Character Portrait: Collin Stacey Character Portrait: Aladdin Character Portrait: Starling O'Hara
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Collin pressed his forehead to the desk trying to let the coolness of the surface calm him. His jaw clenched slightly the desk doing nothing for his nerves.


Collin froze his breath catching in his throat. Did he just hear a voice? There was no way he could have. He was in his room alone. Collin's ears perked up as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand. He could suddenly make out the soft sound of breathing, and he knew for a fact that it wasn't his own. He hadn't had any oxygen since he heard the voice.

Swiveling around quickly in his chair his eyes instantly locked on a girl. One who seemed to be unconscious. His blue eyes quickly darted to the two windows in his room, seeing that they were still locked and hadn't been opened.

Then how did she get here?

Collin slowly rose from his chair making his steps light and cautious as he made his way to the sleeping stranger. He quickly sized her up, she looked innocent enough, and if she was some kind of murder or something he didn't understand her sleeping tactic and he was pretty sure he could take the petite girl.

He bent down over her running a hand through his hair. "Hello?" He whispered. He tried not to step on her long blonde hair, that was splayed around her, as he scooted closer to her. He gently shook her, his mind deciding to leave all rational thoughts about how this stranger had magically appeared in his room behind. Glancing up at his bed he nodded to himself. He didn't know how long it would be until she woke up, or how long it would be until he could get some answers from her, she also looked rather uncomfortable on the floor.

Collin reached out towards the girl his hands hovering over her hesitantly. Maybe he should just leaver her on the floor. No, if he passed out he would want someone to help him. Then again he doubted he would ever pass out in a strangers bedroom. With a final nod he scooped her up into his arms and stood. Her soft skin rubbed against his bare skin due to his short sleeve shirt. Collin looked down at the girl as he made his way to the bed, the closeness of her making his heart beat increase slightly. Setting her down on the bed he immediately stepped back.

What was he doing? He had a stranger in his room on his bed. Fiddling slightly he decided to exit the room. Making his way down the stairs he began to formulate a plan. Okay when she wakes up he would question her and then send her on her way. That's it. Easy and simple, then he could get back to his homework. Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet he poured cold water in it before heading back up the stairs and setting the glass next to the sleeping girl on his bed-side table. He brought his chair up next to the bed and sat down.


And then suddenly he wasn't falling.

Everything was black. Aladdin blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden drastic change in lighting. His head felt dizzy and he brought a hand to it, his five senses slowly coming back one by one.

He noticed at once that he was no longer carrying the sword he had picked up, in an attempt to slay the villain Jafar.

"Jasmine?! Abu!? Genie?!?" Aladdin yelled his dark oak brown hair falling into his eyes as he looked around wildly. He was no longer in the throne room or even anywhere close to the place where he grew up.

Aladdin was suddenly aware of voices and turned to see a wide screen with images playing on it. "Abu?" Aladdin whispered confused his eyebrows furrowing as he watched the animal who had become his best friend and an animated character that looked similar to himself and the clothes he was wearing, race through the city doing flips as guards chased after him. A girl was also there, dressed in brown. Jasmine. He watched as they were all cornered and the men tried to take them away. The woman suddenly threw off the brown ragged cloak she wore and revealed that she was a princess. The princess.

Aladdin shook his head. He remembered that, he was there. He remembered the slight feeling of betrayal from the stranger he had saved and the feeling of sadness that he wouldn't never see this girl who he had taken a liking to again. Why was this on this screen?

Aladdin ran a hand through his long slightly wavy hair and balled his hands into the carpet where he sat. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he needed to get out of here and back to the palace to save his friends. He stood trying to fulfill his wish only to stagger due to the pain in his head. Aladdin looked down letting his hair form a curtain around his face as he tried to clear his blurry vision. Only looking up in time to see a head pop into the room from around a wall.

The first thing he noticed about the head was hypnotizing hazel eyes that captured his attention immediately.

"Who are you, and where am I?" Aladdin got out, his voice weak at first but slowly becoming stronger.