Name: Aliya Why you want to be a Moderator: To be very honest, I just like the thought and title of being a mod. It's not that I abuse the privileges or anything like that, being a mod just makes me feel a lot more connected to the group. I could also help out a lot with deleting spam, making threads, enforcing rules, making sure everyone is being active as well as other things. How often you're on a week: Everyday with the exception of vacations which I don't have that often. Moderating experience: I am currently a mod in Mockingjay, The Selection, Danse, and Ancient Greece RP, just to name a few. Roleplay example:(view spoiler)[Never, ever, had Rhiannon met such a calm and collected person in the hundreds of people she'd met. And to be quite frank, she was beginning to admire Peyton for her coolness. She might need to take lessons from her. Rhiannon grinned suddenly, "Hey, do you think you could tell me how you keep yourself so collected all of the time? You're like, the exact opposite of me. And by the way, if you want I could tell you my name. I can imagine how in that little brain of yours you are referring to me as, 'her' or perhaps even, 'that girl'" Rhiannon said, completely unsure where this mood had come from all of a sudden. She's never been so.. nice to a filthy lower caste before.One minute she'd been raving up another book of insults mentally, and now she was speaking as though she too was a Five. Take that back, say something to her that foes along the lines of 'you don't deserve to be talking to me' Suddenly that thought was unbearable. It seemed that her normal attitude had floated back to her once more. Rhiannon decided to use up the first insult in her mental book. The good old magazine trick. One that was actually very new and one that she'd thought up say.. perhaps.. five minutes ago? Rhiannon quickly flipped through her magazine until she found a picture of a model who looked like Peyton. Almost the same shade of caramel hair, exact same brown eyes... the only difference was that the model was way taller, had freckles, and was also older. "Do you see this girl in the magazine here? Looks kind of like you, do you not agree? I think that the only difference is that this girl probably knows how to not make any gaffes. Also, this girl probably didn't smell like musty rooms and tapeworms." Did tapeworms even smell? Rhiannon could only hope. (hide spoiler)]
Name: DyanneWhy I want to be a Mod: Well Mel, contrary to what you say I think this is a pretty swole great group idea, just because it leaves room for a lot of creativity while still adhering to your classic "academy" standards (house system; rivalries; evil scientists, all that fun stuff) and it allows for so much diversity. As you know, I'm pretty tough when it comes to approving characters, which may or may not be a good thing and I'd be consistent in deleting spam, helping organize stuff, taking over FCs or whatever else to help take the load off your back, and basically being a jack-of-all-trades "seriously whatever you need I'll do it" kind of guy. How often I'm on: On for roleplaying? Around twice a week. On for mod duties and catching up with all my GR buds? Every day. Time zone is PST. Mod Experiences- Ovalith Academy- House of Cards- Hogwarts AU - Improv RoleplayRoleplay Example:(view spoiler)["Tell me that Perry's going to be okay. That he's going to wake up and we're not just a collection of cells frantically waiting for another collection of cells to die, that youth and arrogance and the infinite capacity of life has not become just another illusion, that he's going to be okay. Please." He was speaking to everyone and no one, to whoever was willing to listen. The last word was a whisper, as his head finally stopped swiveling and his arms held still in their awkward positioning in Charlie's hair as he tried to remember the last time he had felt this and that was never, because Ellie had left, but not forever. He refused to believe that she had died and she was irreparably gone because death, for teenagers, was something thought of in the distance, like old age or having children or growing up. People did not die at nineteen.But the erratic heartbeats, the labored breathing, seemed to prove otherwise, and for Charlie to be okay, he needed to know that Perry was going to be okay. Because oh god, that really was Perry on the bed, and if Perry could lay dying, that meant Roan or Lilia or Liss or Sabella could be the ones on that bed, and the sense of security Charlie felt was nothing but a ruse. Charlie knew about death, he knew both the science and the philosophy behind it, but he had never felt death until now, and its presence wrecked him-- Perry was not okay, and consequently, he was not okay. Funny enough, he remembered the definition of life right then. "Life: a constellation of vital phenomena—organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation.” Death. Death was the destruction of that constellation-- chaos, pacification, stillness, failure, division. Perry was none of these, no, his vitality was in the fact that he was living, and the fact that the machine still whirred in time with his heartbeat, in that small bit of life, Charlie could find a small bit of hope."No. I'm not looking for the door." Hope. He clung to it. The door was not yet closed. Grief was not yet final. The thought gave him courage, courage enough to shuffle over to Aunt Riley, to Ro and Lia and remind himself over and over again that there was still hope. There was still life. (hide spoiler)]
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