Post by roxanna rey xo on Dec 21, 2008 22:02:12 GMT -5
Roxanna Dawn Rey
[/font][/size]basic information;
full name: roxanna dawn rey
nicknames: roxy and spongebob
age: sixteen
grade: junior
gender: female
sexuality: straight
their inner beauty;
[/font][/size]personality: When she is nervous or awkward, she plays with her charm bracelet or a lock of hair, and when she's bored she has a habit of drumming her fingers on the table, or the nearest surface, which many people get annoyed at her for. If she has nothing to drum her fingers on, she will find something to play with, like clicking a pen or cracking her knuckles.
She very rarely spreads rumours, or talks behind someone's back, which makes her a very trustworthy friend. She's good if you need a shoulder to cry on, or a ear to listen. She'd lend anyone a hand if they're in need. But beware, she's not just sugar and all things nice, she has a fiery side too, which shows in her common revenge on enemies. She is a flirtatious girl, the life of the party. The girl that has guys flocking around her whilst she ignores them all, and prefers to dance on her own.
When among strangers she is confident to a degree- she'll strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger in line at the grocery store, but she's never completely comfortable in the presence of someone she's not familiar with. She finds it easier to talk to males than females, and she always has more guy friends than girlfriends, which confuses people a lot.
Despite her popularity with the guys, she's anything but a whore. She may be a flirt but if the guy expects more, he's likely to be let down rather sharply. She values friendships over guys any day, and would feel way too guilty to cheat or break up someone's relationship intentionally.
She eats voraciously, but stays slender anyhow. Like a hummingbird, she's always flitting around, unable to sit still. People are stunned by her ravenous consumption of food, most likely puzzled by her lithe physique.
Despite her elegant build, Roxy is a very clumsy, awkwardly moving person. She's known for crashing into doorframes, and more often than not, she's seen sporting band-aids and bruises.
To sum her up in one word, it would have to be individualistic. She enjoys marching to her own beat, and will most likely turn round and to the complete opposite to what people expect, just for the expressions on their faces. She'd probably jump off a bridge for the thrill on the way down.
likes:
- the colour red
- partying
- singing
- meeting new people
- traveling
- writing
- mosh pits
- snakes
- popular kids
dislikes:
- snotty b*tches
- backstabbers
- authority
- snow
- waking up
- homework
- being sick
- pears
- heights
- humiliation
goals:
- to become reasonably popular
- to earn a living singing
fears:
- being rejected
- failing in a subject
- being humiliated
- a friend or family member being hurt
their outter shell
appearance: Her hair is dyed red at the moment, cut about to her shoulders and layered professionally. She changes and swaps the colour more than most people change underwear, and it ranges from a deep, cherry red, to yellow-blond, red and yellow, or different shades of orange. To keep it clean and healthy she washes it every three days and uses many different products to style it properly.
Her eyebrows are naturally dark brown, arched over her eyes and plucked carefully into shape. Her eyes are wide, a deep, luminous shade of hazel with long brown lashes. Her cheeks are angular, with prominent cheekbones and a slightly rosy glow. Her lips are full, a bit too wide for her jaw, naturally soft pink and usually enhanced by lip gloss.
Her teeth are clean and white, but one of her canines is crooked and all of them are slightly pointed. Her skin is creamy white, lightened by her foundation. It's soft and smooth to the touch. Her face is heart shaped, with a wider brow and thinner chin, which is strong and stubborn.
She is short, which is a downside of her family, and only stands at 5'2". Her shoulders are narrow and slope into slim arms and bony elbows, leading onto skinny wrists. Her hands are tiny, fragile, with bird-like bones. She is careless about keeping her nails manicured, but they grow long and perfect nonetheless. She likes her hands- even holds then up occasionally to admire them
When she's relaxed her stance is quite graceful, looking almost effortless. If she's bored she will fiddle with her fingers, bounce her foot or play with whatever is in her hands. When she is confused she has a habit of wrinkling her nose up, and has a talent of being able to raise both eyebrows and go cross-eyed. If she's nervous she'll bite on her thumb nail, which explains why that one is significantly shorter than the rest.
Her favourite casual clothing is jeans, t-shirt and trainers, which vary in their state of scruffiness but never look new. She has a thing for holes in her jeans, and sarcastic slogan t-shirts, which match her personality very well. For formal occasions she may relent to wearing a dress, but never a skirt, something she hasn't explained.
Her least favourite piece of clothing, except for a skirt, is jumpers. She finds them itchy and annoying, to say the least. Instead, she's much more likely to be found in a hoodie or fashionable yet comfortable jacket.
portrayed by: hayley williams
hidden in the past
parents:
marc jonathon rey - 42 - father - mechanic
valerie abbey rey - 42 - mother - unemployed
jacob alexander andrews - 45 - step-father - businessman
siblings:
eric thomas rey - 22 - brother - freelance photographer
history:
Roxy was born to Valerie and Marc Rey on their fifth year of marriage. Val and her husband had been high school sweethearts, joined at the hip throughout their teens and into their twenties, so nobody was extra surprised when Marc popped the question. Val was knocked up within a year of their engagement, and soon after their marriage, Eric Thomas Rey was born.
Eric was born just after Easter that year, and the family received the bouncing baby boy as a fantastic present. He was a quiet, plain baby, with brown eyes and brown hair, who never made much fuss and preferred to snuggle with his joyous mother than be alone. Marc, although not around much for his son's childhood, was a loving father, and showered his first born with gifts and love at all times.
Eric grew up in a loving home. Val stayed at home to raise him, and taught him the basics of life; walking and talking. Although both parents struggled with money, they had enough that bills were unwelcome but not life-threatening, and Marc enjoyed work. When Eric turned four, Valerie fell pregnant with Roxy.
Considering the fact that she was pregnant, Val still managed to keep active, looking after her rapidly growing boy and supporting him through his first day of school, first friend, first homework, and much, much more. Roxy was an awkward birth. She was premature, a scrawny, shrieking purple thing with under developed lungs and therefore was kept on life support for her first weeks of life.
She caused her parents lots of grief. She was released from hospital two weeks after her birth, but that was far from the end of her medical problems. Throughout her first year she was in and out of hospital, had five surgeries, saw many doctors and had loads of medicines prescribed to her.
Finally, stress caused her parents relationship to start cracking, and finally to break. Val filed for divorce within a couple of months of Roxy turning four. The maintained a friendly, if not overly affectionate relationship, and Roxy was supplied a father figure throughout her young childhood.
As bills began piling up, and benefits became too little to support herself and two small children on, Val was forced to take a job as an office worker, and to put Roxy in daycare whilst Eric was at school. This continued for many months, and often little Eric would have to come home to an empty house, barely older than nine and making his own dinner.
During that time, Roxy and Eric became understandably close as siblings. Eric took on a mothering role, of such, making sure Roxy was picked up from daycare in time, feeding her and entertaining the small child. Roxy looked up at Eric as a role model, seeking comfort from the big bad world in his open arms, and Eric felt a natural possessive affection for his little sister.
Val, however, was fired from her job for shouting at the boss, never a good idea when you're struggling for money. She got another job, a significantly less paying one at the local supermarket, but she also ended up meeting husband number two at work one day. He was a polite, well-spoken young gentleman with charming brown eyes, and she was instantly taken by his soft, friendly personality and they hit off well. His name was Jacob, and they ended up going on a dreamy date after her shift end.
With his support, she was able to quit her job and settle down to raise her two children, and shower them with the attention they starved for. She had a big fight on her hands, though, as Roxy had become almost dependant on Eric, and threw a screaming tantrum if she was so much as separated from him. So, Val took the easy route, and left the siblings to their own way, preferring to clean the house and prepare romantic dinners for her new sweetheart.
Although within three months of meeting each other, Val proposed Jacob moved in with them, in three years, they never thought about marrying each other. They were quite happy as a couple- they had their fights, but they always found each others arms in the end.
Jacob was a nice man, if not the most adept at fathering considering his extra sweet nature, and more likely to hand over whatever the kids wanted than to discipline them for being naughty. That was left to Val, which quickly developed so that they would always go to Jacob if they wanted something, knowing that he very rarely would refuse their pleading, no matter how hard he tried.
Eric hit his teens in a stable home, with a loving family, and an adoring sister by his side. In almost a mirror of his childhood, he was the perfect boy- he bought home all the right girls, A+ grades, and did all his chores without asking, which made Val a proud mother. Roxy, however, had a more troubled start. She made it to thirteen before turning round and deciding that normal was boring. She wanted to be different.
She dyed her naturally sandy blond hair a vivid, cherry red, began hanging with the wrong crowds, neglecting homework and generally being hard to get along with. Despite tearful arguments with her mother, soft pleading from her brother, and stern looks from all her teachers, she kept up a charade all the way up to when she hit fifteen.
Sick with worry, but happy her lover's new promotion, Val decided what Roxanna needed was a nice, steady, expensive boarding school.
Wrong.
That was exactly what she didn't need. She was yanked out of her natural environment, plunked in the middle of a new, sink-or-swim academy school, she naturally began playing up more. Partying, drinking, kissing, rumors, she had done it all. She even played her hand at whoring, but that didn't last for more than one night, and even then she felt entirely guilty. She drifted away from her nearly twenty something brother, and became more callous.
She evolved to fit in.
reality check
ooc name: real name is cat, commonly called missy :]
years of experience: two years
sample post:
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Three more minutes, she though hopefully, ignoring the insistent buzzing next to her ear, which was coming from the novelty mickey mouse clock on her beside table. Three more minutes, and then I'll get up.
She rolled over, and buried her head under her pillow, grumbling when a bash on the top didn't shut the alarm clock up. Although she knew why it was buzzing at that god-awful hour in the morning, she had no plans to cooperate with it. As far as she was concerned, school could wait, and she'd rather squeeze in some precious, extra seconds of shut-eye, even if it meant forsaking her usual beauty routine in the morning. Which could hardly be considered a beauty routine anyway, considering it was just a quick face wash, hair brush and cosmetics applying flurry.
Of course, time has a nasty habit of slipping through your finger tips, and although she tried to put getting up off as long as possible, it still seemed like she would have been better off getting up when the alarm clock went off rather than ten minutes later, as always. She hurried through her morning rituals, splashing water on her face was the faucet, quickly brushing her teeth, and applying one stroke of lip-gloss and mascara, then bounding back to her room.
Her bed looked mighty tempting as she scanned the surrounding mess for something wearable, digging a u-neck tank top and skinny jeans out from the back of a dresser, and delving under her bed to search out her prized grey flats. As usual, she found them in the remotest part, tucked behind two boxes and an old, one-eyed doll with half it's hair hacked off and creatively dyed purple, an experiment from about ten years before hand. And, as usual, as she removed her head from under the bed, her alarm clock rang shrilly, reminding her she was meant to be up and out of the door by then, and she jumped upwards, cracking her skull against the hard wooden frame.
"Ow," she hissed as she rubbed the injured area. She stood up and brandished the elusive flats with a flourish, shoving mess off her desk chair so she could sit down and pull them on, over neon pink socks. Her hair, red and messy, would do natural, and she tucked it into a ponytail with a discarded hair scrunchy, which was pink and had pictures of fairies on it. How fashionable.
The morning was nearly a disaster, as she had made her way out of the door, munching on a cereal bar and humming along to a catchy pop tune when she realized she had left her backpack behind, which carried most of her essential items. She cursed, turned back, dug through dirty piles of laundry to find it, checked the time, and realized she was half an hour late for school already.
She slung the pack over a shoulder, and sprinted back outside, slamming the door to her room rather forcefully and flying down the dorm steps, in an effort to make it to class without being too late, and knowing it was hopeless already.
If she was lucky, she would trip, and scrape her hands enough that she had an excuse to visit the school nurse, and thus have an excuse for being late. That had happened more times than you would expect, because she had an extra high amount of clumsiness, which was sometimes a blessing in disguise.
She rolled over, and buried her head under her pillow, grumbling when a bash on the top didn't shut the alarm clock up. Although she knew why it was buzzing at that god-awful hour in the morning, she had no plans to cooperate with it. As far as she was concerned, school could wait, and she'd rather squeeze in some precious, extra seconds of shut-eye, even if it meant forsaking her usual beauty routine in the morning. Which could hardly be considered a beauty routine anyway, considering it was just a quick face wash, hair brush and cosmetics applying flurry.
Of course, time has a nasty habit of slipping through your finger tips, and although she tried to put getting up off as long as possible, it still seemed like she would have been better off getting up when the alarm clock went off rather than ten minutes later, as always. She hurried through her morning rituals, splashing water on her face was the faucet, quickly brushing her teeth, and applying one stroke of lip-gloss and mascara, then bounding back to her room.
Her bed looked mighty tempting as she scanned the surrounding mess for something wearable, digging a u-neck tank top and skinny jeans out from the back of a dresser, and delving under her bed to search out her prized grey flats. As usual, she found them in the remotest part, tucked behind two boxes and an old, one-eyed doll with half it's hair hacked off and creatively dyed purple, an experiment from about ten years before hand. And, as usual, as she removed her head from under the bed, her alarm clock rang shrilly, reminding her she was meant to be up and out of the door by then, and she jumped upwards, cracking her skull against the hard wooden frame.
"Ow," she hissed as she rubbed the injured area. She stood up and brandished the elusive flats with a flourish, shoving mess off her desk chair so she could sit down and pull them on, over neon pink socks. Her hair, red and messy, would do natural, and she tucked it into a ponytail with a discarded hair scrunchy, which was pink and had pictures of fairies on it. How fashionable.
The morning was nearly a disaster, as she had made her way out of the door, munching on a cereal bar and humming along to a catchy pop tune when she realized she had left her backpack behind, which carried most of her essential items. She cursed, turned back, dug through dirty piles of laundry to find it, checked the time, and realized she was half an hour late for school already.
She slung the pack over a shoulder, and sprinted back outside, slamming the door to her room rather forcefully and flying down the dorm steps, in an effort to make it to class without being too late, and knowing it was hopeless already.
If she was lucky, she would trip, and scrape her hands enough that she had an excuse to visit the school nurse, and thus have an excuse for being late. That had happened more times than you would expect, because she had an extra high amount of clumsiness, which was sometimes a blessing in disguise.
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