Post by ritaskeeter on Dec 26, 2010 21:26:06 GMT -5
RITA|DANIELLE|SKEETER
[/b][/center][/font][/size](A few lines of lyrics to describe your character)
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[/size]IT’S A LIE SHE’S BEEN CARRING AROUND
IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
[/font][/size]IT’S THE LIE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name: Rita Danielle Skeeter
Nickname: Rita
Age/Birthday: 34 // Dec. 2nd (Saggitarus)
Gender: Female
Orientation: Straight
Blood Status: Halfblood
Affiliation: Neutral
Year/House: Graduated, Slytherin
Occupation (adults): Daily Prophet Jounalist
Wand: 12 inch Unicorn tailfeather and Black Oak
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[/size]TAKES PRIDE IN APPEARANCE
AND THE JOB IN HAND
[/size]AND THE JOB IN HAND
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[/size]Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Height: 5'5"
Weight: Rita chooses not to expose such information!
Distinguishing Features(if any): tattoos, birthmarks, etc She has a smirk that can get information out of anyone - just so darn attractive!
Play-by: Miranda Richardson
Overall appearance: Rita honestly believes that she is probably the most attractive woman to grace the Wizarding World. She is of average height, but tends to wear stilettos to make herself just a few inches above the women surrounding her. In Hogwarts, she was the girl who made sure that she was surrounded by less attractive girls, so that she would look better in comparison.
Rita wears clothing of questionable nature, that's for certain. She likes to stand out, so typically anything shiny or obvious is her style. She loves the color green, believes that it compliments her eyes better then anything else could.
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[/size]IT’S THE SIMPLE FLAW
THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
[/size]THE MIND FORGETS TO LOOK FOR
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[/size]Erised: To marry an attractive man, and have so much money that she can't even count it.
Patronus: A Peacock, a day that she was published on the front cover of the Prophet. It's become more of a normal occurance these days, but the first time it happened? Dream come true.
Boggart: She fears being rejected by society and taunted for having "bad fashion sense" or being behind on the trends. Also, losing all of her money. That would probably kill her. The Boggart normally comes in the form of people pointing and laughing, or herself dressed in rags.
Dementor: Her father left them when she was very young, and never made any attempt to get in touch with them or take care of them at all. She was 13, and she remembers how seemingly easy he turned his back on her and her mother, and just walked out.
Amortentia: Bleach(explains a lot, huh?), Coffee, Lavender, Green Apple, Melted Chocoalte, Money
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[/size]THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T SEE
AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
[/size]AND THE PIECE YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Likes: Money
Chocoalte
Feathers
Glitter
Satin
Egyptian Cotton
Writing
Quick Quotes Quill
Men
Slytherins
The Daily Prophet
Fashion
Stilettos
Lucius Malfoy
The Malfoy Family
The Black Family
The Cosette Family
Writing
Peacocks
Dislikes: Failure
Rejection
Bad Attitudes
People who don't expand on their ideas
Dumbledore
Rightiousness
The Order of the Pheonix
Severus Snape
Potions
Cheap Knockoffs
Handydown Stores
Girls who wear a lot of eyeliner (There's nothing attractive about racoons!)
Strengths: Writing, Lying, Improv, Fashion, Stilettos, Her appearance, Amazing way with words, Incredibly sneaky, Dedicated
Weaknesses: Hot men, money, Staying calm, Keeping a straight face, Takes herself a little bit too seriously
Overall Personality: Rita Skeeter is a woman who gets what she wants, in the way that she wants it. She doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Rita will sneak outside of locked offices, hide in closets, or straight up manipulate men to get the information she needs to weave a new tale of gossip for her darling readers.
Rita takes things to the extreme, from spreading humors she has convinced even herself to believe in, to having fun. She believes in one thing for certain, when life gives you lemons make lemonade - then find someone who's life has given them Vodka, and throw a party. She'll party with whoever she can find, it's sort of her addiction. Between her party way of life, flaunting it around in Stilettos, and her general love of gossipy writing - Rita Skeeter hardly has any time for much else.
Except, general hatred. Rita's father left her and her mother when she was just 13, and her mother turned to blame her young daughter. Her father was a muggle, and while some women in her situation chose to blame men - Rita turned her hatred towards muggles. She claims to be a pureblooded woman through and through, and holds up the act pretty well. She wants the wizarding world to be seperate from the muggle, because on some deeper level she would never admit to having, Rita doesn't want other families to be torn apart by magic like her's was. Muggles don't understand the concept of the Wizarding World, and therefore wizards and muggles mating isn't something that should be accepted. It only causes unnecessary drama and pain on both ends of the relationship.
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[/size]IT’S THE CRACKING OF THE GLASS
THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
[/size]THE HAUNTING OF YOUR PAST
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[/size]Family: Danielle Jayleena Skeeter, mother, witch, 53
David Kyle Skeeter, father, muggle, 56
Pets: N/A
Residence: Liverpool
History: They were supposed to be this great, loving family. At least, that's what Danielle and David had vowed at their wedding. It seems however, most wedding vows are a lie. For a couple years, things between the couple were seeming perfect, until Rita turned 11 and recieved a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her mother had run from the wizarding world during the first war, and refused to hear any news from that world whatsoever. She'd wanted nothing more then to live as a muggle, and convince herself that maybe, if she tried really hard, her genetics wouldn't pass on to their children and she could live a normal life away from Wizarding Warfare. Rita began showing the usual signs of witchcraft when she was younger, but her mother ignored them, passing them off as nothing much more then usual childhood antics.
On Rita's 11th birthday however, the secret couldn't be hidden any longer. Danielle was forced to express everything to David. At first, he pretended to take the news well. At least, to Rita he seemed to take the news well. She didn't see what went on behind closed doors, the arguments which took place whilst she was attending Hogwarts. To her, the day that he left after her 13th birthday came seemingly out of nowhere. To her mother, it had been a long time coming. There were no final good-byes, no dramatic yelling or thrown objects. Rita just remembers walking down the stairs that morning, her mother was sitting on a nearby chair silently crying. Her father was standing at the doorway with his bags on his arms, a couple sitting on the porch she could see through the window. She opened her mouth, shut it, and tried again but there were no words - for every question running through her mind she couldn't voice it correctly, and so she said nothing. David nodded at his blonde daughter, and without a word edgewise, he left. She would never see him again.
Rita grew darker, more gossipy, boycrazy and bitchy after that day. She gained a reputation at Hogwarts for being the Queen Bee, she spread rumors and manipulated other students to her bidding. When people asked about her blood, Rita would be a Pureblood. She denied her linkage to the muggle world, she pretended her mother had never ran from the wizarding world. She took on the role of a powerful, pureblooded witch so well, no one questioned it.
When she graduated from Hogwarts, Rita immediatly began working with the Daily Prophet. After only a few months working, she made the Front Page. It was at that point she knew she was doing the right thing. She never spoke to her mother again, she denied any link to her father, and she spread false rumors for a living. As far as Rita was concerned, it was worth it.
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[/size]YOU TOOK YOUR EYES UP OFF THE GAME
YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
[/size]YOU’VE GOT NO ONE LEFT TO BLAME
m a k e y o u r m o v e[/center]
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[/size]Name/Alias: Shelbie
Age: 18
Roleplay Experience: 4+ years
How you heard about us: Admin
VoldyMoldy wants: --Admin Edit--
Roleplay Sample:
Lestrange's comments about his brother would have angered Moses enough that to not fight back would have seemed criminal, and he really should have seen what was coming next. Bellatrix Lestrange never started her battles any differently, it was just her thing, and it was an annoying thing at that. Moses should have known it was coming, he should have been able to look into her disgustingly darkened eyes and read that next step, and any previous year he would have been able to do just that in a heartbeat. This night however, Moses had hit the lowest of the low. He was lower then he had been when he'd thought he'd lost Asun. When he'd wandered to the depths of Egypt to meet Rodolphus Lestrange and offered his own life in exchange for that of his son's. Then, anyone could have construed his actions as noble, despite that he'd been looking for a way out for long prior to the action exposed itself.
No, the depths that Moses had hit the night Asun handed over the divorce papers, that was the lowest one could reach. He didn't even want to fight back when Lestrange cursed him, Moses welcomed the excruiating pain of the Cruciatus with open arms, the physical agony of what felt like knives peircing every inch of his body, twisting in his gut and emitting pained screams from him - it was welcomed. This pain was miles better then the intense numbness he had entered, it was an escape from the death of his soul. It was awakening, and he found that he was wishing the pain would never stop.
He collapsed to the ground, his wand rolling away and he made no pained effort to with hold his shaken sobs or climb after his only weapon, as he would have done during any prior run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange. It was dreadful and depresing and painful and it was welcomed. Death. That was what Moses found himself wishing for when he dared glance at his attacker through tear filled blue eyes, he was silently begging her to kill him that night, and make it painful as she possibly could. Take him out as she had Memhis, make his body crush in on itself, turn him inside out, make him scream until such a release was no longer promised to him. Supply him with the pain he deserved for the pain he inflicted upon those closest to his heart. Make him pay for the hell he put his family through.
In the pit of his stomach, Moses believed it, he deserved every bit of pain Bellatrix Lestrange had to offer. He was like an addict shaking on the ground, waiting for the next hit.
No, the depths that Moses had hit the night Asun handed over the divorce papers, that was the lowest one could reach. He didn't even want to fight back when Lestrange cursed him, Moses welcomed the excruiating pain of the Cruciatus with open arms, the physical agony of what felt like knives peircing every inch of his body, twisting in his gut and emitting pained screams from him - it was welcomed. This pain was miles better then the intense numbness he had entered, it was an escape from the death of his soul. It was awakening, and he found that he was wishing the pain would never stop.
He collapsed to the ground, his wand rolling away and he made no pained effort to with hold his shaken sobs or climb after his only weapon, as he would have done during any prior run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange. It was dreadful and depresing and painful and it was welcomed. Death. That was what Moses found himself wishing for when he dared glance at his attacker through tear filled blue eyes, he was silently begging her to kill him that night, and make it painful as she possibly could. Take him out as she had Memhis, make his body crush in on itself, turn him inside out, make him scream until such a release was no longer promised to him. Supply him with the pain he deserved for the pain he inflicted upon those closest to his heart. Make him pay for the hell he put his family through.
In the pit of his stomach, Moses believed it, he deserved every bit of pain Bellatrix Lestrange had to offer. He was like an addict shaking on the ground, waiting for the next hit.
this template is credit to xmrsmalfoyx at CAUTION 2.0.
Feel free to add and change as necessary, but please do leave my credit here.
I worked very hard on this, and I’d rather not
have to send my horde of zombie soldiers after you.
[/size][/center]Feel free to add and change as necessary, but please do leave my credit here.
I worked very hard on this, and I’d rather not
have to send my horde of zombie soldiers after you.