Post by AMANDA MORGAN FORRESTER on Dec 29, 2010 11:32:24 GMT
YOU SAY YOU WANT A REVOLUTION.
[/color]AMANDA MORGAN FORRESTER[/color]
YOU KNOW WE ALL WANT TO CHANGE THE WORLD.[/color] [/font]
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YOU SAY YOU'VE GOT A REAL SOLUTION.
[/color][/font][/center][/color]FULL NAME:
NICKNAMES:
AGE:
BIRTHDATE:
GENDER:
BLOOD TYPE:
AFFILATION:
SEXUALITY:
OCCUPATION:
WAND:
YOU SAY WANT TO CHANGE THE CONSTITUTION.
[/color][/font][/center]LIKES:
DISLIKES:
STREGNTHS:
WEAKNESSES:
AMORTENTIA:
BOGGART:
PATRONUS:
MIRROR OF THE ERISED:
OVERALL PERSONALITY:
WE ALL WANT TO CHANGE YOUR HEAD.
[/color][/font][/center]FINANCIAL STATUS:
NATIONALITY:
BIRTHPLACE:
CURRENT RESIDENCE:
RELATIONSHIP WITH FAMILY:
PARENTS:
SIBLINGS:
IMPORTANT RELATIVES:
OTHER HALF:
OVERALL HISTORY:
DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.
[/color][/font][/center]OOC NAME: CASSY
AGE: 19
EXPERIENCE: 5 YEARS
OTHER CHARACTERS: NONE ATM
MEMBER TITLE: SLYTHERIN
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
Dear Diary,
That twit. That...that jackass. No, that...that...that pretentious two-faced son of a motherfucking bitch.
There. Now don't I feel better? Not really, but that's not the point of this insipid thing, now is it?
...ok, so it is. But I don't use it right, so it doesn't count!
Anyway, it's my birthday. Hoo-rah. And while I play an awesome wounded doe, today I was denied the pleasure because the two-faced jerk I was referring to before sent me a present. Only I know and he knows and his slutty secretary Lynn (ok, that was harsh, I love Lynn) knows that he didn't send it, Lynn did. (See why I love Lynn?)
And I mean, if his secretary goes out and gets me a present, the absolute least that man could do would be to write the card.
As if living with him for the past 18 years didn't make me the number one expert on his handwriting! Fools.
I don't know why I still get so upset about these things. It's been happening practically my entire life, so why should I be so angry if I'm used to it anyway? That's just stupid.
I guess I just thought that if he cared enough to send me to this stupid school, he'd care enough to actually wish me a happy birthday in person, or at least write his own card instead of having Lynn type a letter up and have him sign it. And not even his full name, either. "M. Belrem". Not "Dad", or even "Father", but "M. Belrem". Why not just "M.B." if writing out Michael is already too much of a hassle? "M.B." is much shorter! Takes less time! Doesn't need a lot of thought behind it, just like his daughter.
Screw him.
Ana
So, that was the entry on Ana's birthday. But before she calmed herself down (yes, that' pretty calm), she needed to vent. The present that she'd received was a beautiful necklace with a powder blue crystal heart dangling from a silver chain that reached just above her cleavage. Of course, the moment she saw the wrapping paper she knew it couldn't have possibly been her father who wrapped it.
But then she thought, "Oh, well, maybe the store wrapped it." And then she opened it and it was Tiffany's and then she thought, "Well, he's trying to buy affection." And then she saw the necklace and knew there was no way in hell he went into the store, looked around and decided on that necklace. Dream shattered. All this she could handle, but the note. The note! "Have a great birthday. Miss you loads, wish you were back home. Love, M. Belrem."
What now?
Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. And she couldn't take it out on anyone because she was already on probation for all the yelling she'd done the other day. Her idea of a happy birthday was definitely not scrubbing old gym equipment while the skeezy old janitor monitored her.
So she set off for a distraction or something to punch that wasn't a person or expensive school property, but all of a sudden she saw Zach, and she thought, "Perfect!" He seemed like the kind of guy who would listen to her ranting and take it like a man. Unfortunately, he was sitting with Ralph, who, while seemingly sweet, was one of those "he's so quiet if he's here he must be dangerous" types, and she just didn't like that as much, so she walked over to the two, sat down and said, "I hate my father." She wasn't ignoring Ralph, or talking to him, or pushing him away, or stealing Zach away. She was just talking, which was what she needed. And if she happened to die in her sleep for some unnatural reason tonight, then so be it. Maybe then her father would give a damn.
That twit. That...that jackass. No, that...that...that pretentious two-faced son of a motherfucking bitch.
There. Now don't I feel better? Not really, but that's not the point of this insipid thing, now is it?
...ok, so it is. But I don't use it right, so it doesn't count!
Anyway, it's my birthday. Hoo-rah. And while I play an awesome wounded doe, today I was denied the pleasure because the two-faced jerk I was referring to before sent me a present. Only I know and he knows and his slutty secretary Lynn (ok, that was harsh, I love Lynn) knows that he didn't send it, Lynn did. (See why I love Lynn?)
And I mean, if his secretary goes out and gets me a present, the absolute least that man could do would be to write the card.
As if living with him for the past 18 years didn't make me the number one expert on his handwriting! Fools.
I don't know why I still get so upset about these things. It's been happening practically my entire life, so why should I be so angry if I'm used to it anyway? That's just stupid.
I guess I just thought that if he cared enough to send me to this stupid school, he'd care enough to actually wish me a happy birthday in person, or at least write his own card instead of having Lynn type a letter up and have him sign it. And not even his full name, either. "M. Belrem". Not "Dad", or even "Father", but "M. Belrem". Why not just "M.B." if writing out Michael is already too much of a hassle? "M.B." is much shorter! Takes less time! Doesn't need a lot of thought behind it, just like his daughter.
Screw him.
Ana
So, that was the entry on Ana's birthday. But before she calmed herself down (yes, that' pretty calm), she needed to vent. The present that she'd received was a beautiful necklace with a powder blue crystal heart dangling from a silver chain that reached just above her cleavage. Of course, the moment she saw the wrapping paper she knew it couldn't have possibly been her father who wrapped it.
But then she thought, "Oh, well, maybe the store wrapped it." And then she opened it and it was Tiffany's and then she thought, "Well, he's trying to buy affection." And then she saw the necklace and knew there was no way in hell he went into the store, looked around and decided on that necklace. Dream shattered. All this she could handle, but the note. The note! "Have a great birthday. Miss you loads, wish you were back home. Love, M. Belrem."
What now?
Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. And she couldn't take it out on anyone because she was already on probation for all the yelling she'd done the other day. Her idea of a happy birthday was definitely not scrubbing old gym equipment while the skeezy old janitor monitored her.
So she set off for a distraction or something to punch that wasn't a person or expensive school property, but all of a sudden she saw Zach, and she thought, "Perfect!" He seemed like the kind of guy who would listen to her ranting and take it like a man. Unfortunately, he was sitting with Ralph, who, while seemingly sweet, was one of those "he's so quiet if he's here he must be dangerous" types, and she just didn't like that as much, so she walked over to the two, sat down and said, "I hate my father." She wasn't ignoring Ralph, or talking to him, or pushing him away, or stealing Zach away. She was just talking, which was what she needed. And if she happened to die in her sleep for some unnatural reason tonight, then so be it. Maybe then her father would give a damn.
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