Post by phoebe on Mar 10, 2010 6:00:57 GMT -5
PHOEBE ROSE STANTON
Name: Phoebe Rose Stanton
Nicknames: Pheebs, Phee, Phoebs, whatever you want to call her
Age: Nineteen
Date of Birth: April 10th, 1991
Grade: Sophomore
Orientation: Bisexual
Nationality: American
Home Town: Boston
Degree: Creative Writing
- Minor: Youth and Children’s[/ul]
Play by: Amber Tamblyn[/blockquote][/blockquote]
--- CYNICAL It isn’t that she doesn’t want to believe that the perfect fairytale exists and that the world is a wonderful place, she just has a whole lot of trouble seeing it. Everything has to be second guessed, because of course everything has to have a motive. Things are always going to be going wrong, and the world is just unfortunately imperfect. An over-analytical nature means that she is likely to be able to find reasons for anything to be second guessed, and she tends to communicate these thoughts to those around her in (generally) sarcastic ways. She really does want things to work out, she just doesn’t believe that it’s going to happen.
--- ANXIOUS The slightest problem can set Phoebe into a frenzy. She is easily panicked, and has a tendency to be rather paranoid. She can frequently find herself getting worked into quite the state, at which time she finds solace in cooking or cleaning, generally in a rather frantic manner. If she tries hard enough she can generally keep her anxiety under control if she really needs to, but if something goes wrong when only her friends are around, they are highly likely to cop it. Strangely enough, if those around her are panicking, she manages to remain calmer.
--- CONSIDERATE Generally, although she won’t often appear it, Phoebe is quite considerate. She will often be sarcastic or make jokes about things at the time, but it’s just because she’s too silly to let herself word things kindly. She’s usually willing to put others problems before her own, and if her friends need something, she is the first to jump to their aid and offer anything she has. Even if someone has taken advantage of her before, she is likely to continue giving them whatever they need, as long as they seem grateful. Sometimes she has quite a short fuse, but this is usually while she’s stressed, and even then she will still ]generally be willing to help or listen. If she cares enough about you, of course.
LIKES: humour (and people with a good sense of humour), diversity, cleaning, cooking, musicals, the unexpected, all kinds of movies, cartoons, rainy days, getting attached to fictional characters, talking to inanimate objects, old fashioned romance, reading, video games, cats, passionate people, gadgets, roller-skating, dogs, cycling, fountains, pointless jokes, editing.
DISLIKES: fake people, silence, judging by reputation, constant immaturity, not having some degree of control, having to give up, being proven wrong, things being dirty, deadlines, disorganisation.
Phoebe, much to her dismay, had a very uneventful childhood. She was born in Boston to older parents who had been trying to conceive for several years and were very grateful to finally have a baby. This meant, much to her delight, that she was showered with gifts as a child – ie. everything she could ever want to play with. She was also given many, many books to read, and her parents read to her every night before she went to sleep – so much in fact, that she started to resent going to sleep at all, because it meant that she had less time to read or be read to at night time. Once she was old enough to become slightly devious, she found a way to stay up all night with a flashlight under the covers, something which lead to her eventual inability to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Apart from this minor deviation, however, she remained an extremely well-behaved child, chucking very few tantrums and shedding very few tears.
Because for these first four years of her life she was an only child, her parents had a bad case of the over-protective bug. She was sheltered from many things around her, and any time there was something that she did not want to do, it was done for her. Even after her younger sister was born, four year old Phoebe was still kept on a relatively tight leash. She has theorised that this is why she now feels anxious about a lot of things in her life – she is pretty sure that she won’t know how to deal with them. Not that she won’t appear brave and try them, if she needs to. Luckily for her parents, Phoebe got along very well with her younger sister, and during the course of their young lives there was very little cause for concern and very few fights. The very small amount of conflict in her house honestly began to annoy Phoebe as she got older, because how was she supposed to write realistic, exciting stories when she had nothing to base them on? Her parents had created a monster by getting her so involved with all this story-telling.
Throughout her life so far, Phoebe has had very few romantic encounters. This is really all that needs to be said in that area. She is not entirely sure that writing is what she actually wants to do with her life – there’s every chance that it isn’t – but her parents have sent her here as a way to attempt to give her some life experience. As they are semi creative people themselves, they quite enjoy the idea that their daughter might move on to big things.
Why Emerson?
Why not? She has always had quite the passion for writing, and it seems to be what gets her through a lot of her classes – her writing ability. Her parents were very enthusiastic about the idea of her going to a creative arts school, so she went for it. Her best friend also happens to be there, which just makes the whole thing more desirable.
This whole situation was well and truly ridiculous. For days (well, months really, but he chose to ignore those) Tobias Elliot had not been able to complete a single piece of work outside his classroom. Where he used to come home every night and sit at his computers, planning lessons to the last tiny detail, it was now all that he could do to pay attention to his classes during the lessons themselves. Where had his discipline gone? Where was his dedication? He was quite aware of how cliched it sounded to suggest that his dedication was all directed towards a different matter, but all his energy was going into avoiding such a thought.
So, he'd gone to fix her computer and he'd ended up on top of her on her desk. Why was it so difficult to wrap his head around that? They were both adults. It wasn't like he'd never kissed her before. Why couldn't someone find him so ridiculously attractive that they had to have him right then and there? Spur of the moment! The adrenaline! It was normal just to get carried away sometimes... Wasn't it? Alright, no, it most certainly wasn't. To pretend that it was would be a complete and utter lie. But then again, when it came to Maddie how was he supposed to know which parts were lies and which were not? Maybe he wasn't supposed to know.
But not knowing was what was killing him! What the hell had been going through her mind? Had she wanted it as much as he had? She had instigated it, yes, but with her that meant nothing. Did she realised how much it would affect him? That he would spend these days just thinking about that and that alone? Maybe she did. Maybe she wanted to cause him pain. It wouldn't be completely unheard of. He'd messed up - gotten sentimental. If he had learned anything from their relationship, he should have learned not to do that. As soon as you got sentimental, as soon as you acted like you cared - she was gone. That was how it had been last time, and apparently that was how it was doomed to be for all time, so it seemed.
And then she had to go and tell him that she was going out. Clubbing. The way that girl flirted, she was liable to get raped, or kidnapped, or drugged - possibly all of the above. And how could he be there to stop it? Oh, look at him now. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? To have him worried. Even when they weren't together, she wanted him to worry about her. To fret. Stress. Be curious about her whereabouts, her wellbeing - she wanted him in a constant state of panic. Well, hell - she was good at keeping him there. Unless of course, she didn't know about the kind of effect that she still had on him. But that was impossible. She had to know.
Well, whether or not she knew, she had certainly begun to drive him to insanity. He'd needed a drink. He'd needed to try and clear his head - and the wine at home had not been good enough. So he'd gone for whisky. He sat out, at the bar, by himself, drinking his second glass of whisky - and it was quite a sorry sight. He'd tried to reassure himself, by saying that he'd try and meet a nice girl or something when he was feeling a little less inhabited, but he was only slightly sure that that could be even remotely true. Downing another glass, he could feel her slipping from his mind, the tension easing. All he had to do was drink a little more, and she would be gone. First, however, he would have to answer the phone that was vibrating quite violently in the pocket of his trousers.
Whipping the phone out carelessly, he glanced at the caller ID, ready to answer it quickly before a certain mistake caused him to double-take. It was highly impossible, but he wasn't wrong. Of course she had to ring him when he was forget. He would never be able to forget. Resting his head on his palm, he nudged the phone against his ear. "Maddie. I am finding pleasure in whisky. Go back to making sure your clothes stay on."
[/size][/center][/justify]Hi, I'm JESS and I'm SEVENTEEN YEARS old. I'm UNNECESSARILY PARANOID. This is my FIRST application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from THE ADMINS.
