Post by TANYA NIEBIESKI on Apr 1, 2012 13:00:39 GMT -5
...Tatiana Marie Niebineski *
* There is nobody in this house. They are all dead.*
[/size]* There is nobody in this house. They are all dead.*
...basics*
name Tatiana Marie Niebineski
nickname Tanya, Ana
age 22
gender She’s got boobies
grade Adult
hometown Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada
sexuality Straight
personification The Fairy with Turquoise Hair
status DORMANT
face claim Amber McCrackin
...appearance*
hair color
She’s pretty sure it’s naturally a rusty sort of brown, but considering how often she’s dyed it since eighth grade, that could be completely wrong. Her roots are dark, when she lets them come in. Currently, her hair is bright blue, and has been for the past three months.
eye color
Blue, although not the shade of her hair. Jonah is about the only person allowed to see her without some manner of liner on.
build
Fairly average, with more boobs than butt. She has a desirable figure, and she knows it.
height
Five feet, six inches
clothing style
Somewhere between comfortable, subtly scene, and just plain odd. She hasn’t set foot in a department store since age fourteen, if that helps any. She firmly believes something evil is afoot in Macy’s.
distinctive traits
Well, the hair is pretty noticeable.
She has several piercings, and tattoos she knows how to hide in places where they might not be welcome.
...personal*
personality
Truth be told, Tanya doesn’t really know the meaning of the word subtlety. Rather, she is, but only in theory. It isn’t something that’s ever interested her, even as a child. Boring and time-consuming and never quite worth the effort of having to explain to someone that yes, she is mad, and they’re just idiots for not knowing how to decode females. Blunt to the extreme, Tanya comes off as insulting more often than nice, and thus hasn’t acquired herself many friends over the years. She has a few—namely Jonah—willing to put up with her strong personality and highly opinionated nature, but it’s just that—a few. She doesn’t really mind, though. She’d take a few great friends over a butt ton of petty bitches any day.
That being said, Tanya is not afraid to call said petty bitches “petty bitches” straight to their faces. On a good day, she’s slightly socially unacceptable. On a bad one (i.e. a day where someone has fucked with someone she loves, or she has heard about said fucking-with) she turns downright dangerous in the sort of mean, spiteful, spitfire way that leaves even males terrified to speak to her for too long. Consequently, people don’t mess with her friends. They just don’t. Tanya has a short fuse and a very defined line of right and wrong, and people who cross it instantly become enemies worth nothing more than a well-aimed death stare or a punch in the face (while she’s never actually administered one, she’s quite fond of saying she might like to). Said line can be a bit skewed, however, and it’s by no means straight. As far as friends are concerned, it can become slightly flexible. Though a huge fan of the silent treatment, she can be forgiving once the offender in question has showed her they’re sorry, instead of just saying it. She doesn’t put too much value in mere words. They’re unreliable at the best of times.
Tanya has a mom voice. The sort of stern tone that makes even three-hundred pound wrestlers turn to stare, if she chooses to whip it out on them. She lectures. A lot. Usually said beratings begin with a clear point in mind and then sort of drift, however, leaving the listener somewhat confused as to what they were supposed to have done in the first place, but still highly certain that they will do whatever it takes to attain the levels of greatness and responsibility she apparently expects.
She hides behind her walls of sarcasm, blunt opinions, odd fixations and generally rude behavior because it’s easy. It’s easier to make people not like you than to decide you might like them and therefore run the risk of getting hurt, even if the hurting has nothing to do with it being their fault. She’s been hurt before. It’s not fun. She’d rather not go through it again, thanks. Tanya is smart and quick thinking, albeit lazy, particularly in that aspect. More than willing to pick out the flaws in other peoples’ lives, she very blatantly ignores those in her own; she’d say it’s because she cares about her friends more than herself but really, she just can’t’ stand to come to terms with the fact that she might not be an inherently good person. No one is, she knows, but it still makes her a bit sick to imagine she might have to admit she’s on the bad end. Or to discover that maybe she doesn’t like chasing people away with her temper, or her opinions, or her general disregard for social expectations. She says she’s just being herself, when she’s being rude or crass or blunt, but truthfully, she thinks she might just be locking herself away.
past
Growing up the youngest of three girls, while having its perks in terms of attention and permission to wander alone given early, certainly had its downsides, as well. Had she grown up particularly interested in clothes, she would have been disappointed by the selection in her closet, as it contained a rather large variety of hand-me-downs that couldn’t quite pass off as just being “vintage.” Had she been interested in sports (and for a short while she was, until she stopped in the fifth grade and decided that maybe hockey was just a stupid stereotype and she didn’t actually have to play), she would have found all the equipment kept around the house too was old, stashed high in the attic as it gathered dust, just waiting for the right time to come down and stick its old, dried up sweat to her skin. But those were her sister’s things—girlishness and sports—and Tanya had never, even as a small child, been particularly fond of following what those before her had set out to do.
So, she’d played music. You know, the obnoxious kind—the sort that, as a toddling, half-naked three year old, involved banging on all the pots and pans in her father’s diner’s kitchen when her mother watched her there in the mornings before daycare opened. As a five-year old, it’d meant pretending to sing into zucchinis while forcing her new best friend, Jonah (the son of an employee at said diner, although Tanya neither knew nor cared about that when she first met him, and chucked several marbles at the poor boy’s head out of sheer impatience) to listen and at least pretend to play along as audience, and clap when she moved into the obligatory belly dancing number that rounded out each and every “concert.” She tried to get him to perform for her sisters when they got home from school, but he wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t have him not listen, so she threw things. Little things, like paper crumpled up into balls. Or vegetables. Or books, sometimes. But only sometimes, and never very hard.
Suffice to say, she was horrible. At singing, at drum playing, and especially at dancing. Then again, she was only five, then six, then seven. And she didn’t particularly care. Tanya grew up at her own stubborn pace, preferring to hang out with the boys at recess over the girls, as they were never quite as fond of pretending to be warriors as she was at the age of eight, or far too keen to talk about each other by the time she was ten, eleven, and twelve. So, she stuck with Jonah. It wasn’t a friendship they’d chosen from the start, perhaps, but after the whole first meeting, he’d truly grown on her. He was quiet, yes, and he was temperamental on a good day, but he was also sweet and funny, and she’d be damned if anyone gave him another ridiculous asthma-related Valentine’s card after what she said to Amanda Reed the fifth year around.
Tanya was protective of her friend growing up, just as she was slowly developing a bit of a crush on him. She claimed it to be from the age of fourteen onward, although it would be more true to say it started at around age ten. When they were just beginning their freshman year of high school and Tanya was over at Jonah’s house, comforting him during a particularly rough session of self-pity, he complained about never having had a girlfriend before. Now, Tanya had dated a boy before. Just one, in seventh grade, by the name of Peter Swanson, and they’d kissed three times and held hands five over the course of the sixth months they’d been together. She absolutely refused to count it. So, when Jonah said something about wanting a girlfriend and never having had one, she responded immediately and without thinking. Typically, really. She couldn’t say she regretted it. She did like him a lot, after all.
So, Tanya dated her best friend. They kissed a lot and made out often, although it never went much further than that. She wouldn’t have minded, though. She loved him. She knew she did—she didn’t need to have been with other boys before to know, at the age of sixteen, that she loved Jonie more than anything. So, when he rode over to her house one evening during the summer of their sophomore year and asked (after nearly passing out on her kitchen floor, mind you) if she wanted to have sex, she said yes. Right then, surely, didn’t make a difference. Tanya had never been one to believe in delayed gratification and besides, she felt this had been delayed long enough.
What followed was easily the most disturbingly awkward experience of her entire life, and she firmly believes it will remain so until the day she dies. When it was over, she knew. She said it again without thinking, again without wondering what the words might do to him, her best friend, who was still naked on her bed for Christ’s sake.
“So…you’re gay, right?”
What followed was a lot of tears (on Jonah’s part), much comforting, and a promise (on hers). She could still date him, she said, for public purposes, just so long as he didn’t pretend when they were alone. Although she never showed it to his face and hardly allowed herself the time to cry at home, however, it hurt her. Not him—she didn’t blame Jonah, and was in fact quite proud of him for admitting something she’d suspected for quite some time—but the situation in general. It wasn’t fair, to kiss someone she was certain she loved so often and know they didn’t feel anything back. She did it anyway, of course, as she was a good, loyal friend and Jonie needed her, but it wasn’t fair. One might argue that because of this, she grew more bitter. More snarky, even less reserved than she had before. She encouraged her best friend to come out often, although not for her own benefit so much as his—just to his mom. He could tell one more person, surely?
She went along with him when he refused, rolling her eyes and sighing but saying nothing more. For the most part, her snide snarkiness was directed at others far away from Jonie, those who threatened to hurt him as opposed to the boy himself. When he suggested they start a band, she agreed, her musical talents having blossomed considerably over the years with practice and lessons.
Together, they planned to move to New York City. As friends.
present
Tanya would be lying if she said she didn’t love the city. The lights, the underground culture, the noise, the constant movement—it’s like something out of a movie to her, and something she wouldn’t trade for most anything in the world. Perhaps best of all is that she gets to experience it with Jonah.
Now, she knows he’s not in a good place. Hell, she practically lives with him, even if she pays rent on her own—mostly empty—piece of crap apartment. He couldn’t function without her, although she would very much like him to be able to, as it’s a little bit ridiculous (as she frequently reminds him, while prodding for him to clean up the dishes and pay the bills). Still, Tanya manages to do her own thing a good amount of the time. She goes out even if it’s not to play with the band, and although she works as a waitress at the Fishbowl—the same restaurant where Jonah busses—it’s not as though they constantly share shifts or anything. She’s had a few boyfriends since moving to New York, although nothing’s been permanent and she’s currently single. Really, Tanya doesn’t consider her current situation anything special. She’s just doing what she always has, after all.
family
Marcin Niebineski, father, 67
Nancy Niebineski, mother, 60
Klaudia Niebineski, sister, 30
Konstantyna Niebineski, sister, 26
likes
-Goats. She just does, okay? They’re cute.
-Raspberry vodka
-Waitressing. That is, when customers decide not to be downright asstwats. She sort of has a thing with kids, though, so families tend to be alright.
-Jonah. Really, she does. He just needs to straighten out. A lot.
-Sushi, although it’s definitely an acquired taste.
-Dying her hair, but blue suits her for now.
-Playing guitar. She only learned because Jonah practically begged her to, but once she started a few years back, she discovered she actually really loves it.
-Singing, although it’s best if left for the shower only.
-Old churches. She likes the smell.
-Booths, never tables.
-That 70’s Show
-Licorice
dislikes
-Cats. They creep her out, and she feels like they’ve got to be plotting to kill her somehow.
-Department stores, grocery store food chains, Disney World, etc. There’s something evil afoot. Too clean.
-Reality TV, although she’s been sucked in by a good episode of My Secret Addiction from time to time.
-Driving. She got her license on her sixteenth birthday, but she’s just not a fan of being behind the wheel. That’s the good thing about the city.
-Drugs. She tried them once, but didn’t like the shakey-achey feeling afterwards, and decided it wasn’t worth it. She’d rather just drink.
-Ground beef. She’ll eat it, and she’ll be polite about it, but she doesn’t find the texture all that enjoyable.
-Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Chocolate and peanut butter weren’t meant for love.
-Old people. Or, specifically, old people smell.
other notes TEXT HERE
...literature*
book title Pinocchio
backstory
So basically, there’s the fairy. And she has blue hair. And she helps Pinocchio when he’s being an idiot puppet with lots of cryptic messages about death and stuff, because apparently she’s not actually alive herself and likes to remind people—or puppets—about it. She’s the one that makes his nose grow, and she’s also the one that warns him about the giant whale headed his way (although when she did that, it was by transforming into a blue mountain goat so really, you can’t blame him too much for not listening). She just sort of creeps around for a while without really doing anything but being cryptic until one night, she appears to Pinocchio on a dream, tells him he’s done a swell job at life, and turns him into a real boy. Ta-dah.
...roleplayer*
name Scout
age *giggle*
gender *snort*
rp experience *snicker*
how you found ouac *shifty eyes*
rp sample *scoff*
