Post by bubble on Jul 25, 2010 14:19:43 GMT -5
[/font][/font][/size][/size]Introducing… Jeanie Orson McCoy !
Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself…[/blockquote][/center]
Name: Jeanie Orson McCoy
Nicknames: Jean, Jane, Janie
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Where you stand?: A Follower in the Misfits
Play by: Juule K.
Nicknames: Jean, Jane, Janie
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Where you stand?: A Follower in the Misfits
Play by: Juule K.
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Appearance:
Her eyes are blackened, cold hard staring eyes. A whirlwind of her past swirling, shadows, in her eyes. Below are lips drawn taunt from the impact of careless words being thrown at her. From not speaking unless urged to, from fighting back tears and words she wish she could say.
Her figure tall and lean, her movements graceful yet taunt, a lioness hunting its prey, ready to spring at any given moment.
Thick locks of dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, fingers often running through them, hair helping her hide her face, her frail nose, her soft jawbone, her prominent cheekbones. A flower often resides behind her ear, usually real, sometimes fresh, or perhaps pressed in an old novel hidden under her bed. A touch of softness most do not see.
Thin muscles lace her entire body from years of boxing, strong bones in her hands, strong bones in her body. Tough all over, no visible weakness. But the scars, there are so many;
So many scars.
Scars from words, scars from pain, scars from hurt. Both visible and hidden;
Behind those eyes.
To hide the hurt, the secrets, the past, loose clothing is often worn. Loose dresses, loose shirts. Nothing fancy, not enough money for that. Dressing in men’s clothing in secret, when she boxes, a double whammy against the rules.
But who cares about rules? She is a misfit after all.
Personality:
Stubborn as a horse her parents always said (before things changed that is).
Stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded. She was a rebel, a Misfit, as of the beginning of her existence. She didn’t follow the rules, she broke every one.
She would be no lady that is for certain.
She seems to be constantly angry -probably a trait rubbing off from her mum- and always flustered. She has a short attention span for everything- at first, it can be mistaken as A.D.D perhaps- but truly, it is just her. She just dislikes life you could say. Many things just are not worth her time.
She yells a lot; maybe it’s to get her point across, maybe she just gets angry easily. Whichever it is she either gains respect or is looked at in disgust, because she is so unlady-like.
She used to be an innocent sweet little girl, but based on certain main events in her life she changed dramatically. Growing tougher and meaner as she aged.
Likes:
Dislikes:
Dreams:
Fears:
Her eyes are blackened, cold hard staring eyes. A whirlwind of her past swirling, shadows, in her eyes. Below are lips drawn taunt from the impact of careless words being thrown at her. From not speaking unless urged to, from fighting back tears and words she wish she could say.
Her figure tall and lean, her movements graceful yet taunt, a lioness hunting its prey, ready to spring at any given moment.
Thick locks of dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, fingers often running through them, hair helping her hide her face, her frail nose, her soft jawbone, her prominent cheekbones. A flower often resides behind her ear, usually real, sometimes fresh, or perhaps pressed in an old novel hidden under her bed. A touch of softness most do not see.
Thin muscles lace her entire body from years of boxing, strong bones in her hands, strong bones in her body. Tough all over, no visible weakness. But the scars, there are so many;
So many scars.
Scars from words, scars from pain, scars from hurt. Both visible and hidden;
Behind those eyes.
To hide the hurt, the secrets, the past, loose clothing is often worn. Loose dresses, loose shirts. Nothing fancy, not enough money for that. Dressing in men’s clothing in secret, when she boxes, a double whammy against the rules.
But who cares about rules? She is a misfit after all.
Personality:
Stubborn as a horse her parents always said (before things changed that is).
Stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded. She was a rebel, a Misfit, as of the beginning of her existence. She didn’t follow the rules, she broke every one.
She would be no lady that is for certain.
She seems to be constantly angry -probably a trait rubbing off from her mum- and always flustered. She has a short attention span for everything- at first, it can be mistaken as A.D.D perhaps- but truly, it is just her. She just dislikes life you could say. Many things just are not worth her time.
She yells a lot; maybe it’s to get her point across, maybe she just gets angry easily. Whichever it is she either gains respect or is looked at in disgust, because she is so unlady-like.
She used to be an innocent sweet little girl, but based on certain main events in her life she changed dramatically. Growing tougher and meaner as she aged.
Likes:
- Boxing
- Fresh Air
- Chamomile tea
- Her brother
- Clear blue sky
- Art (Although she has no artistic talent, she’s always had a fascination with any sort of art)
- Music
Dislikes:
- Men
- Alcohol/Alcoholics
- Her Mother
- Her Father
- Arguing
- Suck-ups
- Love
Dreams:
- To Love…
- To be able to box freely.
- For women to be equal with men
Fears:
- Alcoholics
- Men
- Love <3
I've been around for a long, long year...
History:
And now when all is done there is nothing to say…
[/i]And now when all is done there is nothing to say…
She shook, her tiny body quivering against the peach-colored walls, her chest heaving with silent sobs. Strands of dark hair fell in front of her eyes as she slid to the floor, held her knees and cried, the uncontrollable reaction to the words ringing in her ears;
I want you out, NOW.
Her mother yelling, her father leaving...
The words echoed in her head,
OUT
NOW NOW NOW NOW…
In that little girls mind, she could not live without her mummy and daddy. They had been a happy family, and maybe she white-outed the bad parts in her memories, but he was still her daddy, her fuddy duddy daddy. Her fuddy duddy daddy who gave her piggyback rides and let her eat dessert before dinner. Her fuddy duddy daddy who didn’t like broccoli but still made her eat it, and who sat in the backyard hugging her as the watched the sun go down.
Her fuddy duddy daddy…
You have gone and so effortlessly…[/i]
She raised her siblings. They needed her.
They had no other family.
Her mother was a drunken idiot who brought men home every other night and would abandon them for weeks at a time. They never knew if they would have enough food or money to live another day, so they started selling things they found around the house.
Old paintings, painting;
Her mothers dream…
Screw the bastard who abandoned them when she was young, her fuddy-fucking daddy was just as bad as her mother is.
It was not her fault they decided her middle name would be the same as her fathers; and apparently having a tie to her father gave her mother reason to beat her. And some of the men she brought home… She has holes throughout her memories, of days and times she’d rather forget, yet they push themselves to the surface…
Having the same middle name as her father made her past incredibly hard to shake off. However, she did for the sake of Charlie and Chelsea. She put a cheesy smile on her face each day so they would not have to experience any more hurt.
They were younger, and they were her responsibility now. In her mind, they were orphans; her parents were dead to her now.
Screw them.
You have won, you can go ahead and tell them…[/i]
Out of the blue, shipped to Florence’s Academy
No warning, just trash being thrown away, not a care of where it goes.
She had blossomed, tall, elegant, and beautiful, but she was torn inside from living underneath a woman who was crueler than the devil and didn’t give a rats-ass about them.
She was observant, and from all the things she went through she needed some sort of defense.
She just watched boys, watched them punch and fight with large red gloves on, commonly known as boxing. These silly boys thought she was watching them, cause they thought they looked so hot, so she got away with it.
She got away with it.
She hid this skill, and only used it in certain situations
Tell them I was happy, and my heart is broken…[/i]
It’s survival of the fittest babe’
All my scars are open…[/i]
Out
NOW NOW NOW…
Family:
Her father is: Jonathan Orson McCoy
Age: 34
Her mother is: Elizabeth Hale Johansson(-McCoy)
Age: 36
Her younger brother is: Charlie Hale McCoy
Age: 17
His younger sister is: Chelsea Hale McCoy
Age: 14
Anything you'd like to add?
Um, hello
-
I think I want to take up boxing c: that would be fun.
Hope you guess my name...[/center]
Your name: Bubble, or Kay, whichever floats your boat 8)
Parent of which characters:Charrrrrlieeeee <3
Parent of which characters:Charrrrrlieeeee <3
But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game...
(c) Poe & Realms of Fantasia
Lyrics (c) Guns N' Roses
Do not steal.
It's bad.
