Post by discozombeh on Oct 16, 2010 12:29:50 GMT -7
Deirdre AIBREANN MCGAFF
"Well-behaved women never make history."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I AM BEYOND GOD
[/font]I AM HUMAN
[/center][/size][/font]
Full Name: Deirdre Aibreann McGaff
Nickname(s): Dee, Dee-Dee, Little Red, Red
Gender: Female
Age: Sixteen
Birthdate: November 22nd, 1993
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Reincarnate: Yes
I am: Boudicca
Played By: Susan Coffey
Grade: Junior
Boarding: Yes.
[/blockquote] [/font][/size]
OUR SHINING FUTURE
[/font]IN REVOLT
[/center][/size][/font]
[/blockquote]
Height: 4'11”
Weight: 115 pounds.
Eye Color: Gray-green
Hair Color: Red
Build: She is very curvy, and perhaps a bit on the plump side.
Scars: One along the length of her arm.
Piercings/Tattoos: She has her ears pierced because, honestly, what girl that age doesn't? Deirdre dreams of a tongue piercing, but currently amuses herself with the tiny diamond stud that has its home on the left side of her nose. She has no tattoos due to an irrational fear of needles.
Personal Style: Though Deirdre is certainly that rough and tumble tom boy, she is at least one with a sense of style. She loves wearing long, gaudy necklaces and spaghetti-strap dresses. Her main color scheme is white-- she loves to have it somewhere in the patterns of her dresses or on a charm at the end of a necklace.That being said, regardless of her usually dolled up appearance, she will always wear a pair of Chuck Taylors, because damn it if they aren't the most comfortable shoes in the world. She never wears jeans, as she's had a bad past with them. You try finding a pair that fits short legs well and see where it gets you. Here's a spoiler: nowhere.
Appearance: Deirdre is often looked over-- literally. She stands at a whopping four foot eleven barefoot, easily passing under the eyes of men were they not looking for her. She is petite and voluptuous, her body type teetering on the line between hourglass and pear-shaped, with hips able to part crowds with a few well-aimed bumps here and there. Her own personal super power.
Freckles dust her cheeks and shoulders, though she otherwise fairly pale. Her complexion comes from her near-obsessive desire to make sure no part of her tans, burns, or freckles. Before she goes out each day, she slathers on the SPF 50, and quickly masks the smell with some Victoria Secrets perfume.
Deirdre enjoys looking nice, and her clothes usually are in good order. However, she has a habit of waking up about fifteen minutes before classes start. Her hair is often an untamed mass of tangles that falls down her back; rarely does she wear it any other way but down. It suits her since she was often used to this style back in her “Dawn of the Common Era” times.
HOPE AND HORROR
[/font]MIXED IN BLOOD[/size][/center]
Likes: Cats, sweet tea, dancing, jewelery, rain, music, bubble baths, singing, broadway, all types of sweets.
Dislikes: Birds, malodorous people, smoke, losing, dark areas, people shoving their views down her throat, coffee, mathematics, American Idol, science.
Dreams: She would love to be a part of a Broadway production.
Fears: Needles, falling, insects, the dark, and she has a bit of a fear of commitment.
Habits/Hobbies: She has an oral fixation-- she chews on pencils, straws and gum, preferably the latter if it's around. She loves to dance, and does so as much as possible, and dabbles in learning the guitar, though she's having a difficult time to find someone who can both teach her and stand her at the same time.
Secret(s): This co-insides with a fear-- she is absolutely terrified of the dark. Her door's always open, one light in her room is always on. If anyone asks, she simply says its because she can't concentrate or sleep without noise, but it's a load of bull.
Personality: Time to bring in the stereotypes. Little Red has a red hot temper, which many allude to it being from her Irish ethnicity. About that time she kicks them in the shin, because she certainly can't punch them in the face. She is quick to anger and quicker to irritate, and she claims to have a zero tolerance for bull shit. More specifically, your bull shit.
Which she'll tell you. Deirdre is very blunt and will tell you to your face just what she thinks of your and all your blindingly obvious flaws. However, she will not be purposely mean. The girl just has no filter between her mouth and her brain. She will try her damn hardest to act civil towards those she can't stand, but will have no problem being mean if you screw up. And you can bet your Grandma Betty's fake leg that she's waiting for you to screw up.
She often comes off as hostile. But while she has no problem putting your ass back in place, Deirdre has been known to have a bit of a bleeding heart in some situations. On the flip side, she's very competitive and a sore loser.
PRETTY BOY, PRETTY GIRL
[/font]PRETTY INSANE[/size][/center]
Mother: Janice McGaff, 40, homemaker
Father: Connor McGaff, 46, lawyer
Siblings: Finn McGaff, 20, Student
Other: Baba, her grandmother on her mother's side. She's a wicked woman with an even wickeder cane she likes to sleep with at night. Deirdre often wonders if she's the reincarnation of Hitler, but the old woman was alive before he died.
Pets: None
Hometown: Portland, Oregon.
History: Deirdre was born to Janice and Connor McGaff on November 22nd, 1993. She was their last child (as Janice demanded to have her tubes tied while they were in there) and only daughter, having only one older brother, Finn. Now Finn was always well-behaved-- Dee-Dee was not. She would often lead mutinies in the playground against whatever source of power there was, be it another child or an adult. A real wild child-- her Baba often asked if she was dumped off into the woods for a period of time and raised by wolves. Dee-Dee remarked that that would have been awesome, and wolves wouldn't make her eat nasty asparagus.
Oregon is quite forest-y, and so she was given a lot of room to play and blossom into what she is today. Which, perhaps, isn't much different. It was her and her brother's place to get away, as she grew into a family that was extremely Leave It To Beaver. Her mother, Janice, stayed at home with the chores and the children, while Connor brought home the bacon. Dee-Dee revolted against the idea of living in such a way. She had quite a bit of things she revolted against, in fact. It was just her thing. Whenever asked why, she said she just felt like she'd been wronged and that had to be corrected immediately.
Around the time she was seven, she began to have vivid dreams of battles that were buried in her memories and her fascination with swords and a manner of other sharp things began at that time. Every time they went to the local flea market, she would beg and plead for one-- quite obviously, her mother would violently jerk her away, denying her the whole way away from the stall. Her barbies no longer went to the beach, but instead defended the dream house from “Them” at all costs. She never shed light on who the invaders were, but she did call them traitors from time to time.
When she was ten, things got weirder. Her mother received a call from the school saying that Deirdre refused to learn about the Romans when their history lesson went over it. She would go into screaming fits and would run out of the room. Rallying the troops, of course, as a few of her classmates would follow her out and they'd act like a bunch of savages on the playground equipment. She was stubborn and would not listen no matter what was said or done. If she wasn't doing that, she was talking in her own language of gibberish, certainly something the girl had made up to further infuriate her educators.
Realization hit her sometime after. It was TV time, as she was all done with her homework, at she clicked to the history channel. Something made her stop. Her mother, surprised, asked, “Deirdre, why don't you watch cartoons?” Warrior Queen, the story of a Celtic heroine, was on. And she was entranced for a few seconds before, looking at her mother, she deadpanned, “I didn't look like that.”
Not that her mother took what she said with a grain of salt. Children were just silly like that. But Deidre did demand that they got to the library, where she checked out books on Boudicca, the woman from the television show. The battles and events matched her dreams. She told her brother, Finn, this, but by that time he was a teenager and didn't care what his little sister had to say. “Go back to your dolls, Dee.”
Their mother came home from the store to find Finn tied up in a bed-sheet and Deirdre screaming about him impugning upon her honor.
After the realization that her thoughts of who she was, or who she had been, were a reality (there was even a funny little name for it: reincarnation) Dee calmed down significantly. It was as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders, and she didn't act up again for a few years. When she did, it was about moving to North Carolina when she was fourteen, just about to start Highscool with all her friends, all so her brother could go to Duke University and her parents wouldn't have to pay an extra eleven thousand a year for his room and board. She was furious. She threw a fit all the way through the days, to the air port, on the plane, and on the way home-- a good two-month fit. She honestly was proud of herself for keeping it up so long. Her parents, not so much.
They were sick of each other. Truly. So when her parents sent her to Riverdale High, where she could board there and they'd only see each other on holidays, the deal was done. And the rest, as they say, is history.
I AM WHO I AM
[/font]WHO AM I?[/size][/center]
Name/Alias: Meg
Other Characters: None so far.
Age: 17
Time Zone: EST
Post Sample:
The alarm beeping incessantly on his wrist alerted Cormack to the fact that he had to be up. A look at it through bleary eyes,though, told him he should have been a good hour and a half ago. Cursing, he shot up, alarming the big brute of a German Shepard that laid across the foot of the bed. "Shit." He kicked the covers off with his leg, pivoting so his feet touched the cool wood of the flooring. Stomping out of the bedroom and through the hallways, he passed by his daughter sitting on the living room couch with a bowl of cereal in her hands. "Why didn't you wake me up?" He growled, though not angry at her. He could never be angry at her.
Her eyes slid over to him, and she said around the spoon in her mouth, "I didn't know you were supposed to be up. You never tell me anything, Da."
A disgruntled look passed over his face. That was true. He didn't. Only his officers knew where he was going to be this morning, and only his second knew why. Paranoid little bugger, he was.
Cormack disappeared into the bathroom to do his morning duties. Wash your face, brush your teeth... there was no time to shave; he'd be meeting the Freki's Ulfric with a bit of scruff-- boohoo. Werewolves were hair-ass creatures, it wouldn't matter.
He wiped foam off his beard as he exited the bathroom, and went back into his bedroom. Cormack straightened the bed to perfection, smoothing out all creases, and patted the bed. The dog jumped back up, and he scratched it behind the ears, "There you go, old girl." He cooed as she wagged her tail weakly. As she fell back asleep, he pulled on a plaid, flannel shirt, rolling up the sleeves as they would get in the way, and then tugged on a pair of roughened up jeans up over his boxers.
"I'll be back." he said to his daughter, and she sent him a vague little wave. Cormack snorted, stepping into his boots, and went out to the red Toyota sitting in the road. A quick look at his watch said he had to get his ass in gear. It would not look good to be late, even though the two packs needed each other, regardless of promptness.
He pulled up to Aqua a good fifteen minutes later. The smell of cooking fish entered her nose as soon as he stepped outside, and he knew he would be getting the salmon. Cormack's stomach growled at the mere thought of it, his mouth salivating. He loved meetings between the pack. They picked neutral places to converse, and those places were always restaurants. Another look at his watch told him that he was a few minutes early. He smirked and leaned himself against the side of the building, waiting.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
application format by dante/dante in ze pot. lyrics from 'wreak havoc' by angelspit. nothing will chase you down if you remove the credits, but i'd rather you not. that is all.
