app post

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 15:19:14 GMT

NAME: Jana

AIM: aucnfn
EMAIL: aucnfn@gmail.com

CHARACTER NAME: Annie Smith

AGE: 19

BIRTHDATE: March 4th

PB NAME: CASE CAN'T REMEMBER so I'm guessing nothing huge.

FACTION: Whoever offers more money~ ♥

ABILITIES: She can tell a imitation product from a brand-name product!! And pose for pictures. And drink you under the table. Yeah, that's it.

PERSONALITY:

You see the pretty face plastered on billboards, on magazines, newspapers? The girl who's pretty much naked while advertising something like cough syrup? That'd be Annie Smith. Cute and sweet and in the newspaper headlines every other week. She's not terribly smart, but not completely stupid (although that might be a bit of a stretch). She'll rob you out of every cent you have and take those wonderful vases. The lawyer she'll hire to get what she wants will run you into the ground, it's best if you go down peacefully.

If you combine a diva, a socialite, a model, and a bit of CRAZY PSYCHOPATHIC GOLD-DIGGING RAPIST, you've got one Annie Smith. ♥ She loves you lotsies, as long as you have enough money to buy her affection with.

There's another thing that you need to know about Annie -- she should never, ever be allowed anywhere near alcohol. Good luck actually trying to keep her away from it. Sure, she isn't the legal drinking age, but who the hell cares nowadays? Just ~~twenty-~~one couldn't hurt, right? And before you know it, she'll be on top of the table, screaming god-knows-what, and oh boy, if that isn't the paparazzi. She'll smile and give them her good (almost naked) side to work with and go back to drinking whatever she can get her hands on.

All in all, Annie's a pretty nice girl! If you're nice to her. If you're rich. If you'll buy her stuff. If you aren't in her way. If you aren't competing with her. If you -- you get the picture. As long as you meet her expectations, she'll be your friend~~ ♥ Maybe. If you're lucky.

HISTORY:

-Born to a rich family and was spoilt right from birth.
-Went to school with her nose in the air, stepping on some toes.
-Went from boyfriend to boyfriend -- did you know she dated the son of a brain surgeon? How cool is that?
-Got a taste for alcohol starting around 14, wanted more.
-Was "discovered" ~~hammered out of her mind, half naked and talking shit~~ by a representative of a well-to-do modeling company, and with some persuading, Annie got her first job as a model.
-She's been the talk of Tokyo since, all scandal and oh-no-she-didn't, headlines and passing out in the middle of the street. It's a good life.
-Present day!

WRITING SAMPLE:

Two hours and counting. Two hours in this ridiculous leopard-print lingerie, two hours twisting herself in ways she shouldn't be twisted, two hours in a boiling hot room under light brighter than the sun. Annie has to convince herself all over again that she loves the job and the money it brings. It's worth it, it's worth it, it's worth it--

"Annie, dear, you're sweating too much!" calls the ~~stupid cocksucking fatass~~ photographer.

Like I can do anything about that, asshole. Turn on the goddamn air conditioning!--

"So sorry~ I'll try not to sweat so much, I promise." And when she moves to readjust herself (oh goddamnit why isn't there a fan blowing?), she hears a snap, and her heel (those were nice shoes, too) has snapped and down she goes, onto the hard, blessedly cold floor. She hears the photoshoot director call for a break, so she gets up and limps toward the vending machine, something sweet and calorie free sounds just great --

-- and of course the vending machine doesn't have diet anything. So, that's 300 calories and a fuckton of sugar, with the bagel she ate this morning and the salad for lunch, she's mentally calculating 300 plus four hundred plus trans fat plus sugar plus sodium equals... what the hell does it equal? The can's open know and the bubbles of carbonated air hit the tip of her nose. She's starting down into the can, like something's going to jump out and bite her. The photographer comes around the corner and he starts bitching about the broken shoe and Annie just wants him to shut up so she can figure out if the soda's worth it when--

"-- maybe you should think about losing some fucking weight, Annie."

Suddenly, she's not thirsty, but the photographer must be, taking pictures is hard work. So, she takes the can and smashes is right into his stupid (ugly fat hairy sweaty) face, and how he's doused in sugar and calories and artificial flavouring, with a dash of his own blood.

Annie smiles, 'cause no one likes it when pretty girls frown, and walks back to the set. Refreshed and invigorated she's ready for round two.