Post by danger on Jul 15, 2011 13:10:39 GMT -5
( TIMOTHYjamesDOE!? )
{
[/color] HELLO HELLO BABY[/b][/color]{
you called i can’t hear a thing i have got not service in the club you see
. . . . .[/font][/center]
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full name. Timothy James Doe.
nicknames. Timmy, Tim, TJ.
gender. Male.
birthday. August 11th.
candles. Twenty-one.
orientation. Heterosexual.
occupation. Full time student at Julliard, part time street performer.
member group. Mundane.
{
[/color] WHAT WHAT DID YOU SAY[/b][/color]are you breaking up on me sorry i cannot hear you i’m kinda busy
. . . . .[/font][/center]
[/justify]
other important stuff. Timothy is originally from Bixby, Oklahoma. He moved to New York to live with his mom after his dad died in a car accident. He can’t stand all the noise, because it makes it harder to hear his saxophone.
{
[/color] JUST A SECOND[/b][/color]it’s my favorite song they’re gonna play and i cannot text you with a drink in my hand eh
. . . . .[/font][/center]
[/justify]
name/alias. Danger.
experience. Four and a half years, with a one year hiatus.
factoid. My last name starts with an s.
sample.I politely refuse, because this is just an example
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[/justify]This character application was made by danger (aka pixified of caution 2.0). The lyrics are from the song “telephone”, which belongs to Lady Gaga. I don’t claim those. But all the rest is mine. Do not remove or edit this credit under any circumstances. Just don’t. I really don’t want to have to dig my shotgun out of the closet and come hunt you down for stealing all of my hard work.
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( JENNIFERjaneDOE !? )
{
[/color] HELLO HELLO BABY[/b][/color]{
you called i can’t hear a thing i have got not service in the club you see
. . . . .[/font][/center]
[/justify]
full name. jennifer jane doe
nicknames. jen, jenni, jo (a combination of j, her first intial, and doe, her last name. minus the e, because jo looks more feminine that joe.) bambi (because a doe is a female deer, and when everyone thinks of a deer they think of bambi, even though bambi was a fawn and a boy.) jj
gender. la femme
birthday. january 21st
candles. seventeen
orientation. strait with some lesbo tendencies that usually happen when trashed
occupation. part time student at st. xaviers, full time social butterfly
member group. so boringly mundane
{
[/color] WHAT WHAT DID YOU SAY[/b][/color]are you breaking up on me sorry i cannot hear you i’m kinda busy
. . . . .[/font][/center]
[/justify]
other important stuff. bambi was born on a cold day in january, twenty one days into the new year. two hundred and sixty three days later, her parents had a nasty divorce that ripped the family miles apart. her dad stayed in bixby, oklahoma with bambi’s older brother timmy, and her mother took her and fled to the big apple. daddy dearest was more like a fairy tale than an actual dad as bambi grew up, a story she told her friends about. a man who was once madly in love with her mom, who wrote her love letters and took her on impromptu trips to the beach on a school day. a man who fell under a deadly curse that ate away all of his love. a man who she only got to see for a month in the middle of summer in boring bixby, who sent cards on all of the holidays and her birthday, and who called every once in a while to talk. a man who never really seemed like a solid, concrete father figure in bambi’s life.
when her mom moved to new york, she spent years trying to impress all of these dance companies with her fancy ballet moves. she waitressed on the side, and since money was tight their family moved from apartment to apartment all the time. always looking for a cheaper place to stay. the guy who was more like a father to bambi than her actual dad turned up when she was a week shy of her seventh birthday. derek was a dancer, one of the few strait ones hidden in the world of new york ballet. and he was successful, and knew people. blah blah blah, epic love story about how he and bambi’s mom fell in love after he helped her get back on her graceful feet. (grace was not a skill bambi inherited from her mom. she got the clumsy genes from her dad, along with his blue eyes and his one-sided smile. like, only half of his mouth found something funny, and the other half was just like “whatever.” her mom gave her a short stature, blonde hair that fell naturally in these big, sausage-y curls, and long, lanky limbs.) derek never taught bambi how to ride a bike, or how to play poker or anything that bambi could think of as particularly fatherly, but he was there when she went on her first date. he yelled at her when she came home drunk at two in the morning for the first time (she was fourteen years and seventeen weeks old, then.)
and then her dad died in this horrible, tragic, bloody car crash. bambi kinda stumbled through the months that followed. she didn’t feel the right to grieve like timmy, who’d moved into their three bedroom, two bath loft (courtesy of derek) almost immediately after they buried their dad. she felt wrong crying about a man she barely knew. she hated timmy a bit, because he knew how he was supposed to feel. then nineteen, he refused to talk to anyone for nearly two months, grief-stricken and scarred as he was. (he was in the car when the other driver nodded off at the wheel. his dad died; timmy walked away with a few scrapes, a major gash along his cheekbone where a shard of broken glass had cut him, and a broken wrist.)
blah blah blah, this is just an example and i don’t particularly feel like giving bambi a thorough, very detailed day-by-day history. so yeah.
{
[/color] JUST A SECOND[/b][/color]it’s my favorite song they’re gonna play and i cannot text you with a drink in my hand eh
. . . . .[/font][/center]
[/justify]
name/alias. danger
experience. for foreverrrrrr
factoid. i love the mentos gum stuff. it’s so freakin’ minty!
sample.HAHAHA no. this is just an example, yo.
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[/justify]This character application was made by danger (aka pixified of caution 2.0). The lyrics are from the song “telephone”, which belongs to Lady Gaga. I don’t claim those. But all the rest is mine. Do not remove or edit this credit under any circumstances. Just don’t. I really don’t want to have to dig my shotgun out of the closet and come hunt you down for stealing all of my hard work.
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