Post by beth on Nov 18, 2012 0:55:52 GMT -5
BETHANYmarieSIMON
but they will never forget how you made them feel.
•••
Nurses have come a long way in a few short decades.
In the past our attention focused on physical, mental and emotional healing.
Now we talk of healing your life, healing the environment and healing the planet.[/center]
knowing is not enough; we must apply .
THE BASICS
willing is not enough; we must do.
•••
THE BASICS
willing is not enough; we must do.
•••
FULL NAME|| Bethany Marie Simon
NICKNAME(S)|| Bette (pronounced Bet)
AGE|| 32
GENDER|| Female
BIRTHDAY|| September 27
SEXUALITY|| Straight
NATIONALITY|| American
COURSES TAUGHT|| Nursing
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it's not the size of the dog in the fight,
THE APPEARENCE
it's the size of the fight in the dog.
•••
THE APPEARENCE
it's the size of the fight in the dog.
•••
HAIR|| Dark Brown
EYES|| Brown
HEIGHT/WEIGHT|| 5 ft 6 in/ 135 lbs
PIERCINGS|| Ears
TATTOOS|| None
GENERAL DESCRIPTION|| Petite female, very feminine but tough when needed to be.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES|| Stylish, well-kept hairdo, soft voice
PLAYED BY|| Julianna Margulies
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my love is a burning, consuming fire
THE PERSONALITY
no you'll never be alone
•••
THE PERSONALITY
no you'll never be alone
•••
LIKES||
• Music, especially country music
• good manners
• coffee
• flower gardening
• horse riding
DISLIKES||
• sickness
• rap music
• bad breath
• a messy house
• abusive, abrasive people
HOPE/DREAMS|| Hopes to save enough money to buy her own house for her and her son and dreams of retiring somewhere in the tropics. Either Hawaii or in the Caribbeans.
FEARS|| spiders, a health pandemic
SECRETS|| Secretly worked as a stripper while she attended college.
CRIMINAL RECORD|| none
GENERAL PERSONALITY|| Being the younger of identical twins Bette has always been driven to succeed in all she does. Call her competitive, say she has a need to outshine he older twin (who is two minutes older than her) call her what you want, when she decides to do something she throws her whole self into it to achieve it.
when darkness comes i'll light the night with stars
[/color][/i]THE HISTORY
hear my whispers in the dark
•••
[/center]
EDUCATION|| University of Medicine at Augusta (UMA); Northeastern University (NU)
TEACHING BACKGROUND/EXPERIENCE|| Worked UMA as a surgical nurse 3 years, taught Anatomy & Physiology and Foundations of Advanced Nursing Practice classes 2 years
DEGREES EARNED|| Associates Degree in Nursing (RN), Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN), Master in Education in Nursing
HOMETOWN|| Augusta, Maine
PARENTS||father: Dr. Bruce Langley, deceased; mother: Marie Waters Langley RN
SIBLINGS|| One identical twin sister, Beatrice (Bea) Mary Langley Jefferson
OTHER FAMILY|| none
SPOUSE|| Carl Devin Simon, deceased
CHILDREN|| One son, Devin, 5 years old
HISTORY||
Bette Simon and her identical twin sister, Bea, were born to Dr. Bruce and Marie Langley in the small town of Augusta, Maine. Bette was born second two minutes after her sister. Dr. Langley had a thriving practice with two other doctors and provided well for his family. Marie, their mother, had been am RN and worked for Dr. Langley.
Growing up Bea wanted to be an actress but Bette wanted to become a nurse like her mother. So when they graduated from high school Bea went West to California to make her dream come true while Bette went to college to become a Registered Nurse. Her instructor talked to her about teaching college level and she decide to go for it. Nurses were a vital part of health care and assisted the doctors on all levels.
While attending UMA she supplemented her salary by working as a dancer in a strip club downtown Bangor, Maine under the name of Sparkle Bunny for a year and a half. She never prostituted herself and never told anyone about that part of her life. Her face was never seen as she always wore a bunny costume and mask. But she made enough money to pay for her tuition and then some.
She met Carl Simon her last year of college and, a month after graduating, they married and fifteen months later she gave birth to their son, Devin. When Devin was three years old her husband and her father were killed in an automobile accident. She moved her mother, Marie, in with her in with her when she was hired with Royal Academy. Marie takes care of Devin during the day.
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my love is just waiting
THE ROLEPLAYER
to clothe you in crimson roses
•••
THE ROLEPLAYER
to clothe you in crimson roses
•••
ALIAS|| Anskee
EXPERIENCE|| 7+ years
HOW DID YOU FIND US|| advertised on another site
PASSWORD|| ***** [Edited by: the DEAN]
ANYTHING ELSE||
RP SAMPLE||
|| A siren. He heard a siren. The sound was approaching and getting louder and louder. His eyes fluttered open. He saw feet scurrying around. 'Where was the front windshield?' he wondered. 'Why was it shattered? Why was it upside-down? Why were there people running around in a panic? Where was he?'
Something wet ran down his face and puddled around his head. “Hold on, Buddy!” a man spoke to him. He blinked again trying to understand what was going on. Looking to his right he saw someone crumpled in the seat next to him. A woman. She was so beautiful. Vacant eyes peered out from red hair that covered her face. No, not red hair. Dark hair. Dark hair stained with red blood.
Slowly his memory began to return. He knew the woman with red and dark hair with empty eyes. She was his wife. The love of his life. “Amy?” he asked. There was no response. “AMY!!” he screamed out to her.
“Hold on there, Buddy. What's your name? Talk to me. Tell me your name,” the man was asking him.
Turning towards the voice a sharp pain shot through his head. “Hank. My name is Hank Carmichael. What happened? What's wrong with my wife? What's wrong with Amy?”
No one would answer his question. It took several men to get him out of the vehicle. Lying on the gurney he was finally able to see, if only for a moment, the car he had been had flipped over onto its roof. Another car sat close by, the owners standing off to the side talking to a policeman. Amy's body now laid lifeless on the asphalt covered by a white sheet. There were photographers taking pictures, their flashing lights feeling like they were burning his eyes out. TV reporters speaking rapidly into microphones while cameras recorded his every movement. His public, greedy for any news about him. A microphone was thrust into his face. “Can you tell us what happened, Hank? Did your wife die on impact or did she linger? What will you do now with your life?” Sharks trolling the water smelling blood, having no respect for anyone. “Get away, lady!” a paramedic tried to shield him. Try as he might he could not move off the gurney. The pain in his head so great, he passed out.
Opening his eyes once again the first thing he saw was his mother's worried face. Tubes ran into and out of him pumping or drawing away various types of fluids. Bandages covered his shaven head protecting the three hundred stitches it took to bind his wounds. A few days later, when he was able to comprehend and deal with the pain, he found out what had happened. He had ran a red light and a car coming from the opposite way struck him, causing the vehicle to lurch and tumble four times before landing on its top. Amy had been killed immediately, her head crashing through the windshield breaking her neck. In her hand was the results of a pregnancy test. It was positive. He had been so thrilled at the prospect of becoming a father that his common sense seemed to have left and he took his eyes off the road momentarily.
He had not come out of it unscathed either. Being knocked around in the wildly spinning car something had sliced his skull open from the center, down the right side of his head and raked across his neck. Had it not been for the paramedics he too would have lost his life.
It took him the better part of a year before he healed physically and allowed his hair to grow to cover the scar. He'd lost more than his wife that day. He lost his wife, his unborn child and his reason to live. Everywhere he looked he saw Amy. There she was walking down the street, entering a building, passing him on the highway, eating in a restaurant. He could hear her laughter in the house, in their bedroom, on the spacious front porch where she sat in a swing and read her love stories. She loved life, loved children, loved butterflies and loved him. He saw what he thought his child would have looked like in the local children.
Cashing in his trust fund he left and settled in an area he knew nothing about in a country he had never visited before. Here he would start again and try to forget the pain of his past. Could he loose himself in his music? Dive head first into his work and never come to the surface? Will he ever be able to love again?
Something wet ran down his face and puddled around his head. “Hold on, Buddy!” a man spoke to him. He blinked again trying to understand what was going on. Looking to his right he saw someone crumpled in the seat next to him. A woman. She was so beautiful. Vacant eyes peered out from red hair that covered her face. No, not red hair. Dark hair. Dark hair stained with red blood.
Slowly his memory began to return. He knew the woman with red and dark hair with empty eyes. She was his wife. The love of his life. “Amy?” he asked. There was no response. “AMY!!” he screamed out to her.
“Hold on there, Buddy. What's your name? Talk to me. Tell me your name,” the man was asking him.
Turning towards the voice a sharp pain shot through his head. “Hank. My name is Hank Carmichael. What happened? What's wrong with my wife? What's wrong with Amy?”
No one would answer his question. It took several men to get him out of the vehicle. Lying on the gurney he was finally able to see, if only for a moment, the car he had been had flipped over onto its roof. Another car sat close by, the owners standing off to the side talking to a policeman. Amy's body now laid lifeless on the asphalt covered by a white sheet. There were photographers taking pictures, their flashing lights feeling like they were burning his eyes out. TV reporters speaking rapidly into microphones while cameras recorded his every movement. His public, greedy for any news about him. A microphone was thrust into his face. “Can you tell us what happened, Hank? Did your wife die on impact or did she linger? What will you do now with your life?” Sharks trolling the water smelling blood, having no respect for anyone. “Get away, lady!” a paramedic tried to shield him. Try as he might he could not move off the gurney. The pain in his head so great, he passed out.
Opening his eyes once again the first thing he saw was his mother's worried face. Tubes ran into and out of him pumping or drawing away various types of fluids. Bandages covered his shaven head protecting the three hundred stitches it took to bind his wounds. A few days later, when he was able to comprehend and deal with the pain, he found out what had happened. He had ran a red light and a car coming from the opposite way struck him, causing the vehicle to lurch and tumble four times before landing on its top. Amy had been killed immediately, her head crashing through the windshield breaking her neck. In her hand was the results of a pregnancy test. It was positive. He had been so thrilled at the prospect of becoming a father that his common sense seemed to have left and he took his eyes off the road momentarily.
He had not come out of it unscathed either. Being knocked around in the wildly spinning car something had sliced his skull open from the center, down the right side of his head and raked across his neck. Had it not been for the paramedics he too would have lost his life.
It took him the better part of a year before he healed physically and allowed his hair to grow to cover the scar. He'd lost more than his wife that day. He lost his wife, his unborn child and his reason to live. Everywhere he looked he saw Amy. There she was walking down the street, entering a building, passing him on the highway, eating in a restaurant. He could hear her laughter in the house, in their bedroom, on the spacious front porch where she sat in a swing and read her love stories. She loved life, loved children, loved butterflies and loved him. He saw what he thought his child would have looked like in the local children.
Cashing in his trust fund he left and settled in an area he knew nothing about in a country he had never visited before. Here he would start again and try to forget the pain of his past. Could he loose himself in his music? Dive head first into his work and never come to the surface? Will he ever be able to love again?
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Credit goes to Wraith at Shadowplay.