Post by natalie. on Jun 14, 2011 8:57:14 GMT -10
»The Player
Your nickname: Just Natalie, nothing fancy. :B
Roleplaying for how long? Meeeh. On and off for like 5 years?
»The Puppet
Name:
Winnifred Louise Harper. Uh. That's Whinny to you.
Age: Nineteen candles.
Gender: Female.
Hair Color: Tar-black. The dye is called midnight adventure? Kay? Let's get it right..
Eye Color: Blue green, intermixed and dominant based on her clothing and the lighting. They're like glittering opals! God.
Ethnicity: She is a quarter Mexican, with dashes of Eastern European in her. She is of no one pace. A woman of the world you might say. Sigh.
Occupation: Apprentice painter. Full time badass. MHM.
Face Claim: Brookelle Bones.
Appearance:
I'm super hot. That's all you really need to know.
Short → Petite → Bright-eyed → Comfortable → Childish
Whinny is.. pretty. Sure. However she is not the sex bomb that she makes herself out to be. She is of extremely small stature. She stands at about 5'1, and weighs a moderate 109 pounds. Cause a girl has gotta have some curves. DUH. She has a fairly proportionate body, with no double D sized breasts to account for. Her skin is often perfectly bronzed by a combination of an affinity for the sunlight, and a Eastern European tendency to tan to perfection with little effort. She is very vigilant about moisturizer, and constantly has lotion on her in order to maintain the baby-soft texture of her hands, despite her artistic exploits. Her hair however is not as naturally perfected as her skin. Jet black thanks to the helping hands of Lo'Real chemicals, Because i'm worth it., and perfectly straight thanks to the pricey Brazilian Blow-Out she saved up enough to finally get. She will often throw her hair into a messy bun, or pig-tails in order to keep everything but her effortless side-bangs from getting in her face. Her attire consists of ruddy jeans, and an assortment of shrewd T-shirts. However on days where the sun is out, and she can afford to dress well, she will always don a sundress of sorts. However it is rare seeing as Whinny enjoys sitting with her legs wide open, and dresses rarely accommodate such a sitting position.
Her face is nice, to put it simply. Nothing exotic as to turn heads, but nice enough to when a smile creeps across her features, it can lighten her face and temperament considerably. Her eyes are of the most striking swirls of blue and green, and are brought out even more by the stark black of her hair. Her eyesbrows are perfectly arched over aforementioned eyes, and lashes as thick as feather dusters, (mostly due to mascara overload), can be seen flitting over her almond shaped eyes. She was lucky enough to receive a pleasant bunny-slope nose, along with a finely crafted chin that doesn't jut out too far. Her ears are stapled with copious amounts of metal, and are constantly being switched out.
Personality:
One word: perfect.
Sardonic → Lazy → Blunt → Easy-going → Bitchy → Imaginative
She treats everything with the rationality of one big joke. Constant sarcasm, narcissism and acrimony is probably the reason she prefers solidarity. Not because she is an anti-social vampire, but because not very many people can stand her. For a person to get close to Whinny, they need the tolerance of either a very loving parent, or to have been lobotomized. Friends are scarce in the world of Whinny-- however this doesn't really particularly bother her. A lone wolf, what can I say..
Whinny has been accustomed to being rather blunt. This meaning if you ask an opinion-- you're gunna get one. Since she doesn't much care for what anyone thinks of her, she allows her mouth to run it's course without any restraint or conservation. Because what's the fun in that? In this, she is brutally honest-- and never lies. She finds no point, therefore sees no need. She could have murdered a kitten in cold-blood and would confess it to the first person to ask.
Level-headed to the degree of being able to politely tell someone to fuck off, Whinny has learned exactly how and when to keep her head. Living in a house with four perverted, adolescent boys'll do that to a girl. Anger is not exactly a common emotion displayed on Whinny's face, but when it does happen-- one gets the pleasure of seeing a human turn red blue and purple all in the same minute before getting a good ass-kicking. Whinny can defend herself well; also a side-effect of living with older brothers.
Despite every trait that depicts her as a stereotypical lazy bitch, Whinny does in fact have a soft side. When her fingers clench the pencil, and she is allowed to delve into her world-- her ability. When she is drawing she finds that her rough exterior is forced to disintegrate into passion and drive. Her abilities are something not understood by many. Her style is extremely gothic, alternative and dark. Her love for her art is unrivaled by anything, and it seems that it is the only thing she shows actual affection for.
History:
Let's keep this brief.. This is my story. So I want to tell it my way.
So to start things off, my mom was raped. Luckily, my mom is a straight-up bamf, and decided to keep me, even though she already had three boys, and no stable father figure. So she raised me and my brothers in this quaint little apartment in Cincinnati. I loved it there. Like, it was small and cramped and loud, and usually smelled like B.O. and radioactive waste, but it was home, you know? I loved the constant ebb and flow of my brothers and their friends bustling from room to room, in and out, up and down. They let me hang with them, and I always loved to be included in all the dumb stuff they did. I was particularly close with my brother Dalton. He taught me everything I know about paints, and how to etch proportions and whatnot. He was the oldest of all of us, and kept our bitch-asses in line. Whenever my other two brothers, Elliot and Drew, the twins, got into trouble, we always looked up to Dalton to know what to do. Life was balanced, and life was sweet.
My powers emerged when I was fifteen. I had become a pretty skilled artist by then, and had begun an apprenticeship with my art teacher at school. My art was my science, and it was only continually getting better as I experimented, honed, and perfected. This would have been wonderful if it hadn't meant my potential for destruction was also being perfected. I was doing a commission for a mural at my school. I was practicing the wolverine that I was going to have as the focal point of the mural. I smiled at the perfection of it. Every little hair, shade, and hue pleased me, and I had completed it in record time. I pictured it trudging through the halls at my side, my masterpiece, my perfection, for everyone to admire. Then. It moved, It blinked up at me from it's white printer paper confines. It then yawned, and reached out and manifested itself into a 3D model, right before my eyes. Needless to say. I passed out.
The tiny wolverine model was never found. My mother quickly realized what had happened, and calmly explained to me that I either needed to stop drawing, or go somewhere else. Simply out of the safety for everyone in the city, and my family. And that's how I ended up here. A traveling artist in a new city. I'm now working around the area, small jobs, and doing my artistry on the side. Plus a little vigilante work. What fun would having superpowers be otherwise?
»The Side-effects
Super Name: The Streak. Apparently "The Splooge" wasn't professional enough? Nobody appreciates me.
Class: Hero. Villain is just too easy. I like a challenge.
Powers: Bring Paintings to Life. Super Speed. Summoning.
Weakness: Large deposits of bromine. Citrus fruits. Don't ask. I don't get how they're related either.
How do they get into their disguise? Due to Whinny's super speed, changing is not a concept to be worried about. She totes around her costume in her satchel and simply changes at lightening speed--making it impossible for the common hobo to even catch so much as a glimpse at the goods. But if somebody wants to make me a cool gizmo that changes for me.. That'd be cool..
Suit description: Her suit is nothing exceptionally flashy or sexy, unlike most female superheroes these days. A pair of painters overalls spattered with paint and mini sharpie doodles. However the versatility of the suit lies beneath in the underarmor which is heat and friction resistant, which is quite handy for when she needs to paint something very quickly and doesn't have time to think about catching her clothes on fire from going too fast. And finally she wears a painters mask over her mouth to protect some part of her identity.
»The Extras
How did you find this site? WHAT'S IT TO YOU? jk i was clicking around like a mofo. i wish i could tell you which site i came from. T.T
Roleplay example:
The library:
It was a quiet vicinity where books of every shape, size and genre are sold. Eric Taylor really had no idea why he had even wandered in here. Sure, the library was a nice place, but it was no place for a seventeen year old boy to be spending his time. Nay, he needed to be doing something to further his Pokemon's training, or writing letters to his sisters. Or courting Kendall..
But for some unknown reason he decided to strut into the library. Bad idea. But the bus that had taken him here had already left, and he was stuck with the books.. Fun, fun. He sighed, he might as well look for something interesting. What would the librarian do if I checked out a pornographic novel? Ohoho.. No, he wasn't here to cause trouble. So he pushed that thought away and began walking towards the fantasy section. why? Because dragons were elegant reptiles that could breath fire. Need say, more?
Eric began scanning the long rows of books, staring at them intently. He was walking and reading the spines of the books. Waiting to see if anything captured his interest.. Then, he felt a thump on his chest as he hit a rather large.. something. Looking, up he was greeted with a man being escorted by a young lady.
He would have playfully used the age-old line of,
"Are you blind?"
but one quick look at the man told him that joke wouldn't go over well. She blind don't find vision-impairment jokes very funny. So instead, he looked at the young woman.
"So sorry, miss! My apologies. Usually I would have been on the lookout for pretty girls."
He then flashed his million-dollar grin. Little did he know what he was getting himself into...
Your nickname: Just Natalie, nothing fancy. :B
Roleplaying for how long? Meeeh. On and off for like 5 years?
»The Puppet
Name:
Winnifred Louise Harper. Uh. That's Whinny to you.
Age: Nineteen candles.
Gender: Female.
Hair Color: Tar-black. The dye is called midnight adventure? Kay? Let's get it right..
Eye Color: Blue green, intermixed and dominant based on her clothing and the lighting. They're like glittering opals! God.
Ethnicity: She is a quarter Mexican, with dashes of Eastern European in her. She is of no one pace. A woman of the world you might say. Sigh.
Occupation: Apprentice painter. Full time badass. MHM.
Face Claim: Brookelle Bones.
Appearance:
I'm super hot. That's all you really need to know.
Short → Petite → Bright-eyed → Comfortable → Childish
Whinny is.. pretty. Sure. However she is not the sex bomb that she makes herself out to be. She is of extremely small stature. She stands at about 5'1, and weighs a moderate 109 pounds. Cause a girl has gotta have some curves. DUH. She has a fairly proportionate body, with no double D sized breasts to account for. Her skin is often perfectly bronzed by a combination of an affinity for the sunlight, and a Eastern European tendency to tan to perfection with little effort. She is very vigilant about moisturizer, and constantly has lotion on her in order to maintain the baby-soft texture of her hands, despite her artistic exploits. Her hair however is not as naturally perfected as her skin. Jet black thanks to the helping hands of Lo'Real chemicals, Because i'm worth it., and perfectly straight thanks to the pricey Brazilian Blow-Out she saved up enough to finally get. She will often throw her hair into a messy bun, or pig-tails in order to keep everything but her effortless side-bangs from getting in her face. Her attire consists of ruddy jeans, and an assortment of shrewd T-shirts. However on days where the sun is out, and she can afford to dress well, she will always don a sundress of sorts. However it is rare seeing as Whinny enjoys sitting with her legs wide open, and dresses rarely accommodate such a sitting position.
Her face is nice, to put it simply. Nothing exotic as to turn heads, but nice enough to when a smile creeps across her features, it can lighten her face and temperament considerably. Her eyes are of the most striking swirls of blue and green, and are brought out even more by the stark black of her hair. Her eyesbrows are perfectly arched over aforementioned eyes, and lashes as thick as feather dusters, (mostly due to mascara overload), can be seen flitting over her almond shaped eyes. She was lucky enough to receive a pleasant bunny-slope nose, along with a finely crafted chin that doesn't jut out too far. Her ears are stapled with copious amounts of metal, and are constantly being switched out.
Personality:
One word: perfect.
Sardonic → Lazy → Blunt → Easy-going → Bitchy → Imaginative
She treats everything with the rationality of one big joke. Constant sarcasm, narcissism and acrimony is probably the reason she prefers solidarity. Not because she is an anti-social vampire, but because not very many people can stand her. For a person to get close to Whinny, they need the tolerance of either a very loving parent, or to have been lobotomized. Friends are scarce in the world of Whinny-- however this doesn't really particularly bother her. A lone wolf, what can I say..
Whinny has been accustomed to being rather blunt. This meaning if you ask an opinion-- you're gunna get one. Since she doesn't much care for what anyone thinks of her, she allows her mouth to run it's course without any restraint or conservation. Because what's the fun in that? In this, she is brutally honest-- and never lies. She finds no point, therefore sees no need. She could have murdered a kitten in cold-blood and would confess it to the first person to ask.
Level-headed to the degree of being able to politely tell someone to fuck off, Whinny has learned exactly how and when to keep her head. Living in a house with four perverted, adolescent boys'll do that to a girl. Anger is not exactly a common emotion displayed on Whinny's face, but when it does happen-- one gets the pleasure of seeing a human turn red blue and purple all in the same minute before getting a good ass-kicking. Whinny can defend herself well; also a side-effect of living with older brothers.
Despite every trait that depicts her as a stereotypical lazy bitch, Whinny does in fact have a soft side. When her fingers clench the pencil, and she is allowed to delve into her world-- her ability. When she is drawing she finds that her rough exterior is forced to disintegrate into passion and drive. Her abilities are something not understood by many. Her style is extremely gothic, alternative and dark. Her love for her art is unrivaled by anything, and it seems that it is the only thing she shows actual affection for.
History:
Let's keep this brief.. This is my story. So I want to tell it my way.
So to start things off, my mom was raped. Luckily, my mom is a straight-up bamf, and decided to keep me, even though she already had three boys, and no stable father figure. So she raised me and my brothers in this quaint little apartment in Cincinnati. I loved it there. Like, it was small and cramped and loud, and usually smelled like B.O. and radioactive waste, but it was home, you know? I loved the constant ebb and flow of my brothers and their friends bustling from room to room, in and out, up and down. They let me hang with them, and I always loved to be included in all the dumb stuff they did. I was particularly close with my brother Dalton. He taught me everything I know about paints, and how to etch proportions and whatnot. He was the oldest of all of us, and kept our bitch-asses in line. Whenever my other two brothers, Elliot and Drew, the twins, got into trouble, we always looked up to Dalton to know what to do. Life was balanced, and life was sweet.
My powers emerged when I was fifteen. I had become a pretty skilled artist by then, and had begun an apprenticeship with my art teacher at school. My art was my science, and it was only continually getting better as I experimented, honed, and perfected. This would have been wonderful if it hadn't meant my potential for destruction was also being perfected. I was doing a commission for a mural at my school. I was practicing the wolverine that I was going to have as the focal point of the mural. I smiled at the perfection of it. Every little hair, shade, and hue pleased me, and I had completed it in record time. I pictured it trudging through the halls at my side, my masterpiece, my perfection, for everyone to admire. Then. It moved, It blinked up at me from it's white printer paper confines. It then yawned, and reached out and manifested itself into a 3D model, right before my eyes. Needless to say. I passed out.
The tiny wolverine model was never found. My mother quickly realized what had happened, and calmly explained to me that I either needed to stop drawing, or go somewhere else. Simply out of the safety for everyone in the city, and my family. And that's how I ended up here. A traveling artist in a new city. I'm now working around the area, small jobs, and doing my artistry on the side. Plus a little vigilante work. What fun would having superpowers be otherwise?
»The Side-effects
Super Name: The Streak. Apparently "The Splooge" wasn't professional enough? Nobody appreciates me.
Class: Hero. Villain is just too easy. I like a challenge.
Powers: Bring Paintings to Life. Super Speed. Summoning.
Weakness: Large deposits of bromine. Citrus fruits. Don't ask. I don't get how they're related either.
How do they get into their disguise? Due to Whinny's super speed, changing is not a concept to be worried about. She totes around her costume in her satchel and simply changes at lightening speed--making it impossible for the common hobo to even catch so much as a glimpse at the goods. But if somebody wants to make me a cool gizmo that changes for me.. That'd be cool..
Suit description: Her suit is nothing exceptionally flashy or sexy, unlike most female superheroes these days. A pair of painters overalls spattered with paint and mini sharpie doodles. However the versatility of the suit lies beneath in the underarmor which is heat and friction resistant, which is quite handy for when she needs to paint something very quickly and doesn't have time to think about catching her clothes on fire from going too fast. And finally she wears a painters mask over her mouth to protect some part of her identity.
»The Extras
How did you find this site? WHAT'S IT TO YOU? jk i was clicking around like a mofo. i wish i could tell you which site i came from. T.T
Roleplay example:
The library:
It was a quiet vicinity where books of every shape, size and genre are sold. Eric Taylor really had no idea why he had even wandered in here. Sure, the library was a nice place, but it was no place for a seventeen year old boy to be spending his time. Nay, he needed to be doing something to further his Pokemon's training, or writing letters to his sisters. Or courting Kendall..
But for some unknown reason he decided to strut into the library. Bad idea. But the bus that had taken him here had already left, and he was stuck with the books.. Fun, fun. He sighed, he might as well look for something interesting. What would the librarian do if I checked out a pornographic novel? Ohoho.. No, he wasn't here to cause trouble. So he pushed that thought away and began walking towards the fantasy section. why? Because dragons were elegant reptiles that could breath fire. Need say, more?
Eric began scanning the long rows of books, staring at them intently. He was walking and reading the spines of the books. Waiting to see if anything captured his interest.. Then, he felt a thump on his chest as he hit a rather large.. something. Looking, up he was greeted with a man being escorted by a young lady.
He would have playfully used the age-old line of,
"Are you blind?"
but one quick look at the man told him that joke wouldn't go over well. She blind don't find vision-impairment jokes very funny. So instead, he looked at the young woman.
"So sorry, miss! My apologies. Usually I would have been on the lookout for pretty girls."
He then flashed his million-dollar grin. Little did he know what he was getting himself into...
