Post by VALERIE HARPER on Jan 25, 2013 20:40:11 GMT -5
...valerie celeste harper*
* They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made. *
[/size]* They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made. *
...basics*
name...[/b][/size] Valerie Celeste Harper
nickname...[/b][/size] Val. In high school some people called her Harper, but she put a stop to that. Slut. Bitch. Whore. Gorgeous. She isn’t much for cares, depending on the day.
age...[/b][/size] 22
gender...[/b][/size] ladybits
grade...[/b][/size] N/A
occupation...[/b][/size] Bartender
hometown...[/b][/size] Chicago, Illinois
sexuality...[/b][/size] Depends on the day. Men, usually.
personification...[/b][/size] Tom Buchanan
status...[/b][/size] Dormant
face claim...[/b][/size] Lissie[/blockquote]
...appearance*
physical...[/b][/size]
Almost grungy in the sort of “I could clean myself up real nice if I wanted to, but you’re just not worth it” sort of way. Her hair, straw-like in color, generally remains a bit unbrushed, though she’ll be more than happy to do something with it if going somewhere especially fancy. She doesn’t wear much make up most days, enjoying the fact that she seems to get what she wants without it. Freckles cover her face, neck, and shoulders, but seem to peter off the further down her arms they get. She’s relatively average in build, about five feet, six inches and of normal weight.
clothing style...[/b][/size]
Jeans, tank tops, flannel shirts, dresses sometimes, sweaters, all usually without a bra. Again, unless it’s somewhere fancy she’s going to. God forbid someone should think her incapable of having class.
defining traits...[/b][/size]
It’s the freckles, mostly. And the way she carries herself—very confidently, completely in control of whatever situation she’s in. She has a bit of a smoker’s laugh, as well.[/blockquote]
...personal info*
personality...[/b][/size]
Val, for the most part, operates very firmly under the belief that one should say what they think before thinking about what they say. She’s blunt. Snide and rude to those she likes being around, the general tone of disgust only gets amped up when she’s put in situations with people she hates. Or hasn’t met. Or doesn’t want to get to know. She’s perfectly capable of being charming, sure, but it’s just a lot of wasted effort. Why bother impressing people she isn’t impressed by?
That being said, she isn’t particularly bright. There were enough resources for her to go to school, sure, and she studied more often than not, but the truth is just that she’s rather on a dull side. Not idiotic, not completely daft, just…not about to win any sort of prize for intellect. At all. Ever. Val acts like she knows things, certainly, but her bullshit even lacks a bit, more often than not. Largely, she relies on her ability to put people down to get through life, and so far it hasn’t completely backfired so chances are she’ll keep right on doing much of the same. She’s quite abusive, though she doesn’t quite realize it. If she did, chances are she wouldn’t regret a moment of it as she’s quite happy getting what she wants, but she might backpedal a bit, try to figure out a different, better way to do the same. Or be too lazy to care. She’s quite lazy, when not involved in smashing things apart.
Val has spent all of her life being handed things, from money to clothes to opportunities. Now in possession of her rather monstrous trust fund, Val does…next to nothing with the money. She bought herself a nice house, a nice car and nice furniture and then decided no longer to care. She knows she has it. It’s secure, waiting in the bank in case she ever feels the need to toss it around like handkerchiefs (which, on occasion, she does), but for the most part, she simply couldn’t be bothered. It’s Daddy’s dime and it always will be, and he’ll take care of her ‘til the day she dies, thanks. No ifs ands or buts about it.
Cultured, she likes to call herself. A free spirit. Immune to the trials of society’s search for conformity. She isn’t. In fact, she’s so wrapped up in the idea of being unique, of seeming better, cooler, more experienced than everyone she comes in contact with, one could easily say she still believes herself stuck in high school. In a way, maybe she is. She’s petty, after all. And rude, and grew up in a house that ought to have been a single parent household but wasn’t allowed the decency out of sheer stubbornness and pride. As a result, she wouldn’t know what love was if it broke her nose clean in two. Of course, she’d never admit that. Stubborn, Val refuses to believe she could be wrong in any aspect of her life, and therefore decides that instead of fixing things, she ought to just leave them be and not think about them. Say she loves so and so and believe it and make life a hell of a lot easier than having a nice long talk about the relationship and figuring out how to fix things for the better as a whole.
Stupidity and laziness, again, govern most everything about her. Why bother making things better if that might take effort? Why bother thinking things might not be right if that means…well, thinking? It’s better just to shove the possibility of problems aside and rest assured in the fact that she is in control and knows what’s best and more often than not that’s doing what pleases her, thanks, so long as she remains secure in the fact that those who say they love her will always come right on back home. She needs the encouragement. It’s where the confidence comes from, after all.
life until now...[/b][/size]
Valerie Celeste Harper grew up the only child of two exceptionally lazy, exceptionally unhappy socialites in the not-so-small city of Chicago, Illinois. Her father, Andrew, was a man of money, raised in New England under the impression that he was God’s gift to mankind simply because he was born with enough money to use the spare change as diapers every now and again. When he first married his wife, named Elizabeth Fitzgerald at the time of their meeting, he truly thought he loved her. She knew she loved him, and so they were married. And for a time, they were happy. A large penthouse in Chicago became their home, parties and events their lifestyle, careful management and investing of Anthony’s old family funds an exceptionally steady source of income. It was a simple life. Privileged. Intoxicating.
About three years after their marriage, they had a child. It was something they wanted, they said, the baby girl they held in their arms. Valerie, after Anthony’s grandmother and Celeste after Elizabeth’s. She was blonde with blue eyes to match her father’s and a smattering of freckles that, although from absolutely no one on either side of the family that they could tell, gave her an impression of cheeky innocence that stuck right on until she reached adolescence. Valerie was not a particularly difficult child to raise, albeit a needy one. Her mother and father gave her what she wanted, and as they doted on her, found they themselves were growing further and further apart. There were fights, on occasion. Silent dinners punctuated only by Valerie’s open-mouthed chewing and their chorus of “be polite” as she snapped her jaws shut tight on her peas or carrots or chicken.
When Valerie reached middle school, she began to learn the ways of the world. Boys, she found, liked it best when girls wore the kind of shirts that were cut down low and the kind of pants that hugged tight on their asses. They liked confidence, and a good sense of humor, and a good kisser, and she could—with a little practice—easily provide two of the three. She started dating at age twelve and honestly hasn’t stopped since. A distraction, maybe it began as. The more time she spent at her “significant other’s” house, the less she had to spend at home, where her parents were growing steadily apart and steadily more vocal about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing rumors were spread about. The fights were all very much swept beneath the rugs, forgotten about by the time they next went out in public, smiles replacing snarls with the sort of ease that Val really couldn’t help but admire, poor girl.
That, she thought, was love.
Valerie grew up with want for nothing. She was not particularly good at anything she set her mind to, but by God did her parents let her believe she could excel. It wasn’t that they were afraid they’d break her psyche otherwise. Truly, the idea was to have something either one of them could brag about. She didn’t notice. Or care, really. She got what she wanted, that was how she grew up, she liked her Daddy better than her Mommy because her Daddy gave her more money, and life went on.
the present...[/b][/size]
Val went to college on the east coast, only to decide it wasn’t really for her and drop out after her sophomore year. She moved to New York on Daddy’s dime, became a bartender because what the hell, maybe she could find some guy or something, met Stephen Frasier, and fell in love. At least, that’s what they call it. She’s happy. Why would she ever want to be with anyone else? With Stephen, there’s control.
other notes...[/b][/size] anything about your character that doesn’t fit anywhere else? [/blockquote]
...literature*
title... The Great Gatsby
backstory...
Tom is married to Daisy and is rich as fuck. He’s a father, and cheats on his wife almost constantly with this chick named Myrtle who eventually dies but we won’t talk about that. Basically, Tom is that adult who just never got over the fact that there are more important things in life than the fact that they were once the all-star high school quarter back. Also, he’s pretty damn smart, and hella manipulative to his wifey-poo. Great guy, really. Ten stars.
...the roleplayer*
tell us about you...[/b][/size] lol it’s Scout. A unicorn led me here once upon a midnight dreary.[/blockquote]
...writing*
writing sample/freestyle...[/b][/size] [/blockquote]
