Name: her friends call her DaVinci (when she reminds them to haha)
Eyes: Her eyes are blueish gray. She likes them, though once someone told her they were too big for her face and made her look babyish.
Skin: Very, very pale, a consequence of not going outside often. There are a few freckles across the cheeks and on the arms, but other than that, just, pale.
Hair: Her hair used to be almost white blonde, but its darkened to a slightly darker blonde with lots of reddish-brown streaks. She almost always wears it half up half down or in a high ponytail, and it is about an inch longer than shoulder length. It is almost completely straight. She cut it herself during quarantine and would cut it shorter but is afraid of screwing up.
Facial Structure: She doesn’t really know how to describe it. She has wide cheeks and a pretty prominent chin, but her face is rather oval-shaped.
Clothing Style: She didn’t really think about what she wore until around ninth grade. Her closet consists of Church Camp T-shirts and baggy Jeans, but she doesn’t like it much. She has described her ideal style many times, one that is, as her friends claim, “basically a flaming lesbian then?” If she could wear anything, it would be an oversized black T-shirt with yellow overalls, along with some bright red converse.
Parents: She loves her parents very much. Her mom was a teacher before becoming a stay at home mom, and her dad is an accountant. Her dad’s job has opened up many opportunities to move around the world, and she did this at one point for three years. Ever since staying in her home country has never been enough for her and she has an itch to move somewhere else. She has a lot of rules at home, but she doesn’t mind them because they seem reasonable enough. She is raised in a very religious home, her ancestors all having been in that church basically since it started.
Quirks: In recent times, Da vinci has developed a few quirks. She is always snapping her fingers or wringing her hands to rid herself of extra energy, and when she feels anxious, She blinks hard and slowly.
backstory: She was a very happy child. She is the oldest of five siblings and the only girl. She basically grew up outside, rarely watching TV. In fact, her parents did not have more than just a computer until she was 11 when her dad’s work gave him a smartphone. She always loved school and wasn’t bright enough to realize that from kindergarten to second grade, she was teased because her best friend in the world was a boy.
Her and this friend loved to play ‘fairies and dragons’ and other games like this. In second grade, she became friends with another girl too. The girl made Da Vinci choose between her two friends, and she chose the girl over the boy. Da Vinci feels immensely guilty to this day, and can’t get over how she betrayed her first best friend. She always had about one good friend in her life from kindergarten up to fifth grade.
In fifth grade, Da Vinci moved to a different country. She loved it, but it was also very hard for her. She never learned the new language and was rather isolated. Her class at school was too small for her to make any good friends in sixth grade, and so she kind of just did without anyone close to her for a year. Then, in seventh grade, she made a friend. They were close and considered themselves best friends, But she looks back on that friendship and realizes that, at that time, that was not the best friend for her. She still has contact with this friend and loves her very much.
Seventh grade was not a good year for Da Vinci. Nothing bad ever happened externally, but that is the first time she experienced a major drop in self-esteem. She did lots of things that year that she still doesn’t feel very comfortable going into.
In Eighth grade, her friend moved away. This left her, once again, friendless, but her mental health was much better than it was in seventh grade. She liked life that year. Ninth grade was when Da Vinci moved back to her home country. She went to a new school, one that she loved a lot. She finally got to do things like Theatre and Band that she missed out on in the other country.
To this day, Da Vinci thinks ninth grade was the best year of her life. It was a lot more unhealthy mentally than eighth grade, and yet, finally, she found some people with who she felt she belonged. She learned a lot from these people, and always wants to have them in her life, though she is sure they will grow apart someday.
At the time of writing, Da Vinci is a Sophmore. She still has those amazing friends who have really supported her. Despite this, this year hasn’t been the best for her. The death of a distant friend sent her into another unhealthy time, mentally, one that hasn’t quite worn off yet. This has been a year of self-discovery and learning for her, but it has been hard. She is currently working hard to improve her outlook on life.
Personality: She is very extroverted and loves to talk. One of her favorite things to do is obsess over things with other people, and get excited about things. Generally, this is with music or talented people. Da Vinci uses writing as an outlet. She loves her life, and she also loves attention, though she doesn't like to admit it. She is almost always seen with a smile on her face, though she has been told several times that she has a resting panic face. She is rather energetic, with an excessive amount of energy she doesn't quite know what to do with.
Character Strengths: Da Vinci likes to think she is good at seeing the best in others, and she tries her hardest to help them see their best. She is an optimist and appreciates the beauty of the world around her. She picks up on things quickly and usually gets them done in time. She is also very hopeful about the future.
Character Weaknesses: This character is rather lazy, and loves to procrastinate. Though she is good at seeing the best in others, she often cannot see it in herself and beats herself up about everything. Da Vinci gets really worked up and stressed about things outside of her control, and she gets brought down easily, guilting herself for doing things she doesn't feel she deserves. She is also rather impulsive and doesn't stop herself from doing things she knows are gonna make her feel awful later on.
Goals: At the time of this character's story, her biggest goal is to learn how to love herself and how to better help other people.
The girl looks in the mirror, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She pulls a brush through knotted hair, pulling on sneakers halfheartedly as she bounds down the stairs.
It's early. Too early, but she forces herself to open the front door, stepping onto the front porch as cool air slaps her face.
She knows better than to focus on anything other than the next step.
Reluctantly she pushes the button on her watch that starts the run.
As her legs churn beneath her she lets her mind drift, onto the laptop still sitting open on her desk, fragments of a story spilled across the pages.
She grinds to a halt, anxiously finding the jacket she had cast aside.
There. In the pocket. She desperately clutches a familiar black notebook, scarcely bigger than her hand. Finding a fragment of a pencil she scribbles something illegible into the margins of the notebook, smiling as new details for her story come together.
With an embarrased smile she begins to run again.
All the high school movies seem to suggest you've gotta choose one.
Run or write.
black and white.
Make the right choice, get the right friends.
One misstep and you fall.
And yet, here the girl stumbles, tiptoing along an invisible line.
Lean too far one way and she'll give a part of herself up.
Keep walking and she will have nothing left to give.
Because that's what life is, isn't it?
Passion matters little when one is unable to chose a side.
She has an old soul for such a young face…At least that’s what they tell her.
She exudes a sense of complexity as if life’s stories are incidentally sown into the layers of the long dark hair that grazes over the middle of her back. The word raw is what comes to mind.
At a first glance she is almost ordinary. Yet, a longer look would reveal much depth beyond those weary deep brown eyes she bears. With a careful turn of the head, her eyes glisten as a few golden flecks meticulously catch the sun. At least that’s what they tell her.
She stands tall with a slender frame bound by the curves she inherited from her mother. The memory of a thinner bonier self reminds her she is thankful for the edges that now outline her girlish figure.
She walks with a confidence that is neither arrogant nor conceded. It’s a sense of acceptance and awareness that seems to linger in the air around her.
Those same deep brown eyes often remain hidden behind the bold square frames that offer her the gift of sight. Still, she prefers to wear contacts as she compares the glass in front of her face to a barrier meant to impede her from interacting with the outer world.
She remains unseen by more than half of the people within a room. Yet, a few are observed to gaze in her direction with a slight glow of curiosity in their eyes. At least that’s what they tell her.
She sits in the smallest corner of the room. As if she is hoping to conceal a part of herself. Yet, her small insecurity seems misplaced as it is evident she feeds off of connection with others.
She speaks her words almost as if they were deliberately plucked off a page of a well written book. She works hard to present her intentions well. Yet, it seems as if it would be difficult to miscalculate such a kind natured heart.
She occasionally abandons this well-spoken persona, altogether, in effort to disburse her energy only when needed. She keeps her listeners engaged as these moments of abandonment offer a true glimpse of the passions that guide her. Her soul as genuine as it is exposed, which becomes obvious to those whom truly listen.
Yet, there is something child-like about her.
Perhaps it is that she is self-conscious about her laugh as if it almost seems to come at a surprise to her how freely it travels from one medium to the next?
Perhaps it is the way that her questions appear to almost erupt from her body in effort to satisfy the urge of her own curiosity?
Perhaps it’s the way she seems to believe in others despite the occasional momentary flicker of past disappointment that paints her face.
Ahhh! I see it now… it’s her love.
It’s almost as if the pores of her skin radiate the very essence of love into the air. Regardless of her attempts to conceal it for the consequence of its vulnerability, she can’t escape its inevitable spell. Some are known to love widely while others are meant to love deeply. Her body submits its defenses to both.
I now understand her depth and her pain in a new light. For love often sets the foundation for one’s greatest sense of joy along with the deepest burn of sorrow. Burning a candle at both ends now has a new meaning.
Who am I?
A difficult question to answer
Sometimes I am everyone
Sometimes I am no one.
Sometimes I am
not a person
Sometimes I am a thick forest,
glistening with raindrop-colored leaves
Sometimes I am Medusa,
the ugliest creature in the world.
Sometimes I am Rudolph
The Red Nosed Reindeer
Sometimes I am nothing more
than a scattering of childhood insults.
Sometimes I am a friend. Sometimes I am an enemy.
Sometimes I am a man, sometimes a woman.
Sometimes a little bit of both, or a lot of neither.
Sometimes I am a
blowing my own identity away.
Sometimes I am a weary old man
Sometimes a newborn.
Sometimes a highschooler,
Sometimes I am not
Sometimes I am a question mark.
Sometimes a period.
Sometimes an exclamation point
and sometimes I am a semicolon.
I am just a capiTal letter
in the wrong place.
Mostly, I am just a breath of desert,
fiery and unforgiving
ready to kill you with grains of glass sand.
In a word,
“my worst oc” -my mom
(It's okay, you can laugh at the title.)
The first thing that you should probably know about Avery is that she has an abysmal fashion sense. She bought two of the same pair of jeans once, and she has about six different shirts. She has never yet been seen in another pair of shoes besides those beat-up blue sneakers.
She doesn't want her hair to grow out, or for her sister to paint her toenails. She threw out all her dresses and won't buy any more. She doesn't have a great track record of combing her hair, and she might be a feral creature if she wasn't so dependent on her creature comforts.
That being said, Avery's alright when you're not looking at her. She's at her best next to you and breathing in sync with you, whether you're watching something she doesn't care about on television, or sleeping next to her in a very cold bed. (Don't get any ideas. You'll be sleeping and nothing else.) She's always cold, so she'll steal all the blankets, but you might not even notice.
In the mornings she doesn't care about anything except remembering as much of last night's dream as she can, but by ten or eleven she's probably snapped out of it. That's when the fun begins. The worst thing about Avery is that you can always, always be sure- unless your name is [redacted for privacy reasons], she'd rather be doing something else than being with you.
No physical description has been provided, because it's not confirmed that the physical form she takes is her true one, and because, well, she's ugly.
Over The Top and a Little Bit Insane
She was short with sparkling blue eyes that might carry a green tint every now and then, and long dark-blonde hair streaked with light brown and ending palely. The hair seemed to have a small copper glow, at least when the sunlight bleached it to a lighter colour. Most people would describe her as skinny, though she whined about being overweight, no matter how many people would kill to have her weight. The girl was quite average looking, though she felt ugly with her crooked teeth and overall boring appearance. Not that she really cared about how she looked; the time it would take to get all dolled up in the morning was better spent sleeping, or possibaly reading, depending one if it took one or two hours to fall asleep the night before.
The girl’s personality was extroverted, over the top, an filled with energy every minute of the day (exept for during P.E.). She could ramble on and on about Harry Potter, the books she was reading, Harry Potter, and the rude people who disliked Harry Potter and told her to shut up. Still, no matter how extroverted she was, there was never a moment that she would not want to curl up with a book or notebook, now matter how distracted she got with fancy gadgets. She was kind, even though her kindness might accasonaly be clouded with arrogance, selfishness, and rambling. She was a bit of a know-it-all, though she had a bit of a reason to be so; she knew a lot and just wanted to share her knoledge, and opinion, and what the rude kids who don’t like Harry Potter said to her... Speaking of Harry Potter, the girl had, uh, a bit of an addiction to the series, or perhaps obsessive love for it. Though, who could blame her- it is the greatest book series out there! She could also be quite fiery, if anyone would bother to listen to her comebacks that she was just waiting to use. Some people may ask how brave she is. She is the kind of girl who loves a small rush, but would never risk her life, unless it was to save her family. Or perhaps close freinds. Maybe even the world, but that’s a long shot if people she cares about are not in direct danger. The girl was able to talk to most people, as long as they did not continuasly critisize everything she liked just because she liked it, and the other person did not mind ramblers, but she hardly considered anyone her freind ever since the time that one of her freinds abandoned her for her talking too much, arrogance, and obessive love of Harry Potter (even though the girl continuesly asked the other girl if she was talking to much or if she had something to say!). The girl was really depessed when she got that email because those three things were kind of sort of mostly true. Oh, and she also tells a lot of really bad jokes, a lot of decent-ish jokes, and a couple of good ones. She is the type of girl that laughs at everything, though she somehow is a studious nerd at the some time. Crazy, huh?
Speaking of crazy, the girl is also slightly insane; not just weird, but actaully insane. She often talks to herself or people who aren’t really there, but maybe that’s just because she is an extrovert in quarentine. Or maybe not. Though, considering how her mindset seems to change every twenty minutes, she does realize that she might need to see a phsyciatris once she can get out of quarentine! The girl hated quarentine. The only good thing about it was that she could read fantasy instead of textbooks.
Oh, and the girl is about to hit publish on this post.