Post by quinn on Oct 21, 2011 13:37:47 GMT -5
QUINNIVYSPENCER !
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RAINBOW SHIRTS RIBBED IN ACID LOVE
OUR LIVES ARE RIBBED IN PLASTIC LOVE, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU
SHE LOVED ME TOO, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU, SHE LOVED ME TOO
HERE I AM, HERE I AM, GONNA TAKE YOU[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
nicknames: her sister has been known to call her q-tip, but please don't.
birthday: 21st October, 1993.
gender: female.
grade: senior.
sexuality: pansexual, but not ~out about it.
played by: Kristen Stewart.[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
Quinn is a swaggery thing of 5'7" with a mane of overdyed hair and spiderthin scars from when she was thirteen and thought it was ~hardcore to scratch beaus' names into her hands with the dull point of a compass. she has dark circles under her eyes and overplucked eyebrows that don't quite match each other, and her make-up never looks that good for long. she likes to think she has her own style, but mostly she's just a mess, and in monochrome for the most part because she hasn't much knack for knowing which shades go together. skinny jeans and plaid shirts and converse plimsolls, bodycon skirts and worn-out sweaters, maxi-dresses and doc martens, or on a friday night maybe she'll stagger out in murderous heels and cast them off at the first reasonable opportunity.
personality:
Quinn is the kind of person who tries very hard to look as if she doesn’t try very hard. It is a lot easier (and less effort) to be cool and apathetic than sunny and popular; it is a lot easier (and less effort) to fall asleep in class than to study and run the risk of failing. She bunks off lessons and hangs around outside school leaned up against whoever's car, eating lit matches and trying to act bored and nonchalant. She acts as if she isn't scared of anybody.
Outside school, she's less snarly and more amiable, if still rather aggressive; it can, at times, be hard to tell whether she's being friendly or mocking. She's a little vulgar and a lot unladylike, but not the kind of girl to claim to be 'one of the guys', and she's never touched a video game. Quinn wants fun and adventure and her idea of these is usually a little on the risky side; she'll go along with any hare-brained scheme, even if she wasn't the one who originally came up with it.
She reads Kerouac and Kesey and works a shit mcjob claiming to 'save money for a motorbike'. Quinn is always talking about how as soon as she's saved enough she'll be out of town and in the city and then her life will really start -- but like so many pipe-dreams it's poorly thought out and easy to pick holes in, half-brag and half-fantasy. She likes playing cards and fast cars, movies about road trips; and in her friendships there's a little too much teasing, a sense of -- not rivalry, exactly, but a distrust of the unfamiliar and desire to be top dog.
If she's a little over-bearing, it must be compensation, because the feeling that permeated every cell and pore of her childhood and adolescence was one of overwhelming mediocrity. Two sisters who look exactly the same as you to the extent where every neighbour calls you ‘honey’ not to risk getting the wrong name -- it would give anyone a desperation to strike out and build their own identity. To use a cliche, Quinn's heart's in the right place, but she's a mixed-up eighteen year old with more hormones than experience, and too stubborn and proud to admit her fault in any of it.
likes: cold beer on a hot day, Iggy Pop and the Stooges, the auspicious smell the air has in october, downbeat humour, velvet, ginger hair, Jay and Silent Bob, low-budget horror movies.
dislikes: the whole idea of twitter ("MY LITERARY GENIUS CANNOT BE CONTAINED IN 140 CHARACTERS"), this nu-goth hipster movement, modern art, wine and spirits, epic poetry.
strengths: assertive, independent thinker, empathetic/compassionate.
weaknesses: Quinn is incurably dishonest when it comes to getting out of trouble: she does not deal in consequences and would rather let somebody else clean up her mess. she is also despicably lazy, terminally impulsive, and usually quite rude to her mother.
[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
father: Robert Spencer, forty-something, youth and community worker.
siblings: an older sister named Ainsley, who is 20, engaged and on her way to becoming a physiotherapist; a younger sister named Lacey, who is 14 or 15 and a freshman at the high school.
significant other (s): she lost her ~maiden flower~ at fifteen or sixteen and it didn't mean very much and that was how she liked it. it was just a rite of passage she felt it was best not to leave too late getting over with, because the later you leave it the more of a big deal it becomes, and the idea of romance just embarrasses her. mainly she just didn't want to be the last one of her friends.
pets: Daxie, an aging golden retriever, who Quinn ever-so-kindly refers to as 'Stinker'.
hometown: Jacksonville.[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
SAY, HERE I AM, IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT
[/B][/color]ON AND ON, LOUDER AND LOUDER, IT'LL BUILD AND FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN
TO HATE, SHE SAID HERE I AM, SHE SAID HERE I AM, LOUDER AND LOUDER IT'LL BUILD AND FADE
FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN TO HATE[/center][/FONT][/SIZE][/B]
other characters in jackson: none yet, although i may make a guy later.
best way to reach you: AIM me @ januaryzombie, or leave a message in my tumblr askbox.
Sample: (at 375 words it's pretty short by most standards, and I apologise profusely, but due to taking a long break from RPing I've only written two posts in the last year and I have nothing else to show you! I realise that the post may not make sense out of context, so just to give a little background, my character was an exchange student and this was a sitewide group/event thread where the high school's ~celibacy club~ was holding a barbecue on the beach, and various young ruffians decided to crash it.)
James Silver had always been a moth to the flame of a good time. This good time, however – if that was what it was – turned out a little trickier to get to than most. With no car and no connections, Silv had hoped to hitch a lift along the way; but after half an hour of thumbing, stranded at the side of the road, he was forced to admit that tattoos didn’t make you a safe-bet stranger to let into a car.
Not to mention the plastic carrier bag of cans clanking merrily away at his side.
But they say that when one door closes another opens, and in this case the door that opened was the bus; not quite the glamorous entrance intended, but this mundane turn of affairs at least tamed some of the ridiculousness of the situation. Smuggling cheap booze into some kind of Bible-club barbeque where he didn’t know a soul. Not quite his usual brand of bedlam. Whoever heard of a fuckin’ celibacy club? Good job he was a few thousand miles from home or else he’d never hear the end of it.
He grinned to himself as he dismounted, bag swinging, and if he hesitated at this swarm of unfamiliar faces it was only for an instant; because in the blink of an eye he was shoving headfirst into the crowd like he was born to it, with an “Awwwwrigh, lads!” and a “Hope I’m not too late for the hymns,” and an “’ello darlin’, how you doin’, come here often?”, and he laid down his contribution as if it wasn’t noticeably lesser than the rest. No sign of being self-conscious that he didn’t have the cash.
And it was only when he stopped for a cigarette that he thought to introduce himself. “Name’s Silv.” He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Not from round these parts.” Was the Pope Catholic? “Exchange student and that. Thanks for having me, pleasure to make your acquaintance and all that shit. Now, which of youse lot’s in this club, then?”
Not to mention the plastic carrier bag of cans clanking merrily away at his side.
But they say that when one door closes another opens, and in this case the door that opened was the bus; not quite the glamorous entrance intended, but this mundane turn of affairs at least tamed some of the ridiculousness of the situation. Smuggling cheap booze into some kind of Bible-club barbeque where he didn’t know a soul. Not quite his usual brand of bedlam. Whoever heard of a fuckin’ celibacy club? Good job he was a few thousand miles from home or else he’d never hear the end of it.
He grinned to himself as he dismounted, bag swinging, and if he hesitated at this swarm of unfamiliar faces it was only for an instant; because in the blink of an eye he was shoving headfirst into the crowd like he was born to it, with an “Awwwwrigh, lads!” and a “Hope I’m not too late for the hymns,” and an “’ello darlin’, how you doin’, come here often?”, and he laid down his contribution as if it wasn’t noticeably lesser than the rest. No sign of being self-conscious that he didn’t have the cash.
And it was only when he stopped for a cigarette that he thought to introduce himself. “Name’s Silv.” He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Not from round these parts.” Was the Pope Catholic? “Exchange student and that. Thanks for having me, pleasure to make your acquaintance and all that shit. Now, which of youse lot’s in this club, then?”
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this application template was made by LADY AND THE TRAMP !? of CAUTION 2.O
do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
[/justify]do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
