SWANFORD, DANIELLE SARAH

[danielle sarah swanford]

DANIELLE SARAH SWANFORD ,

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________________________
"IT'S REAL FOR US. NOT FOR HER.
WE'LL GET THE LETTER, YOU AND ME."
• the basics • the basics • the basics •
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( FULL NAME ) : Danielle Sarah Swanford is the name. I'm actually pretty fond of it...Danielle came from my father's sister. Sarah from my grandmother. And my last name from my mom, actually.
( NICKNAMES ) : The only nickname I really have is Dani...which obviously came out of my name. Although some of my ex boyfriends like to call me something else, but that's another story.
( SEX ) : female.
( BLOOD TYPE ) : muggle born, thanks.
( AGE ) : sixteen and august second
( YEAR ) : sixth year
( HOUSE ) : gryffindor
( SPECIES ) : just a witch, thanks.
( SEXUAL ORIENTATION ) : heterosexual.
( WAND ) : eleven inches, swishy, and the core is unicorn hair? is it called hair? Oh, I don't know...it gets the job done.

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"I CAN'T PRETEND ANYMORE.
YOU'VE CHOSEN YOUR WAY, I'VE CHOSEN MINE."
• the personality • the personality • the personality •
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( LIKES ) :
--guys. obviously.
--quiditch. not playing it, just watching.
--muggle magazines
--drugs. but that's mostly a secret.
--my grandmother.
--my family in general.
--my hair. completely natural, mind you.
--hogwarts
--autumn
--cold weather
--snow
--rain
--dancing
( DISLIKES ) :
--being lied to
--bad hair
--bitchy females
--wizard music, to be completely honest.
--muggle sports. boring.
--death. i just don't like it in general.
( STRENGTHS ) :
--i'm really good at cutting hair "the muggle way". I do my own without a wand.
--i'm incredibly honest.
--i keep a level head during exams.
--i'm pretty good at making friends...kinda.
--i know how bite my tongue.
( WEAKNESSES ) :
--i bite my tongue too much.
--i'm incredibly fake at times.
--i'm kind of paranoid.
--i don't show my feelings enough.
--i'm a hypochrit.
--i can't fly a broom to save my life.
( AMORTENTIA ) :
--cinnamon
--brown sugar
--lilac
--babies
--vanilla
( RIDDIKULUS! ) : My father. Every fucking time, it turns into my father...I can't see his face or anything, but he just scares me in general. And in turn I turn him into a clown. Immature? Oh, probably...but it works!
( EXPECTO PATRONUM! ) : My worst memory...have I not told you about my grandfather yet? Well, let me tell you a little bit more about him, and how he died. It was afternoon and I was sleeping in, like any normal teenager does during the Summer. When I finally got up it was noon time and I called out to my gramps, who was sitting in his chair, asking if he wanted something to eat. There was no answer. I quickly walked over and saw him...that, right there, is my worst memory. Checking his pulse, and feeling nothing. Checking for breath and feeling nothing. The ambulance. My mother's crying. My crying.
( PATRONUS!) : The form of a fox. A red one, mind you.
( MIRROR OF ERISED ) : My deepest desire...let's see...at the moment? I really, really want a joint. But in the long run? My deepest desire would probably be to give up drugs all together. Turn into something. Maybe get married in a few years? Like, five or something.
( PET PEEVES ) : Girls. Females. They're just all so...I don't know. Not all of them or anything, but most of them get on my nerves. Also, wizards who think they're better than muggles. Because they're really not. And people who complain about the weather...that's just annoying.
( KEYWORDS ) :
Brave. That is generally the thing that's said most about me. Even now that I've somehow been changed there's no denying I'm brave...sometimes I joke and say it's because when you used to be an ugly freckled redhead you had to be brave just to leave the house, but I don't know. I just think it might come after having so much hurt in my life, or something of the sort. Either way I don't tend to let people see me worry about things. Instead I wear a poker face, pretending nothing effects me. That I have as little emotion as a robot, although I'm not sure if people exactly fall for it or not.

Other than my initial bravery, though, I'm a fairly complicated person despite the fact that I may not come off as so. I keep the brave, emotionless face on at all times so I can feel like a real gryffendor...but on the inside I'm always on the edge. Just waiting for something bad to happen to me or someone around me. I've kind of noticed that everything I touch breaks. My sick mother. my dead grandfather. It might just be my paranoia kicking up, though.

I come off as serious a lot of the time, at least to strangers. But once you start talking to me, getting me to open up, maybe even take off my robot mask you'll easily notice I'm one of the funniest girls on earth. most just don't exactly get I'm joking. My humor actually has no bounds...I don't exactly get taboo. Sometimes my jokes actually offend people but I'm always quick to say sorry...come to think of it, that's probably why I get along with guys better. I notice they're not as easily offended as a majority of the female population. Even when I was just a dorky little girl I was friends with more guys, so I can't really blame it on my looks or anything.

I don't come off as a big goof ball, but I can be once I'm close to you. I'm probably the cause of many pranks, really. I'm the type of girl that won't say anything that comes to mind...but some people think I do. I actually keep a lot locked up inside me, but you wouldn't guess it by hearing what I do say.

Sweet? No, not really. I'm not one of those adorable little girls who giggles like a five year old and bats her eyelashes at guys. Like I said, I'm raunchy. Sometimes I have a bit of a potty mouth...I find immature, vulgar jokes the best, and see nothing against making up slightly awkward names for people. Which is yet another reason guys and I get along better...girls are usually offended when you call them nasty names, even as jokes, but guys just laugh it off and call you something back.

I also come off as mellow, even though I'm incredibly paranoid. People always say it, say I seem like I don't give a fuck what people think about me...but I'm always just kind of looking around, wondering who's talking about me. I seem to think everyone hates me, even my friends...but you wouldn't guess it unless you catch me in one of my incredibly rare moods.

Okay...maybe I'm not really that complicated...maybe I'm just another teenage girl...or witch, whatever. I am, however, incredibly messy. Unorganized...when it comes to just about everything. I'm always running late, my hair's always a mess, my roommates are always yelling at me, and I often misplace my homework. Some people say I run on my own time because of the fact that I'm always at least five minutes late for everything (usually more). And yet for some reason I don't get in too much trouble...probably because I know how to play people. Make them give me what I want. I don't usually use that little power of mine, but at least I have it. Ah, the power of persuasion can get you far.

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________________________
"DID YOU LIKE QUESTION TEN, MOONY?"
"LOVED IT. 'GIVE FIVE SIGNS THAT IDENTIFY THE WEREWOLF.'"
• the appearance • the appearance • the appearance •
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( HAIR ) : my hair? well, it's obviously red. but not so bright of a red that it's blinding. it's completely natural, and i adore it. as for texture it's long, and silky, and thick but not too thick...needless to say it's my pride and joy.
( EYES ) : my eyes? I don't pay much attention to them. They're just kind of there...a nice grey-ish color. Average sized. Average length eyelashes. I don't love them but I don't hate them either.
( BODY STRUCTURE ) : Thin and tall-ish, I suppose. I'm almost 5'8 in inches. The only thing I'd like more of is some curves...but whatever.
( DISTINGUISHING FEATURES ) : oh, my hair I guess. But I also have a tattoo of a small hippogriph on my ankle. No lie.
( PLAY-BY ) : ashlyn chesney

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"DOESN'T YOUR DAD LIKE MAGIC?"
"HE DOESN'T LIKE ANYTHING, MUCH."
• the history • the history • the history •
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( PARENTS ) : ashley smith, 36, mother, waitress
_____ swanford, ?, father, it's a mystery.
( SIBLINGS ) : n/a
( OTHERS ) :
sarah smith, grandmother
paul smith, grandfather, dead
( HISTORY ) :
My past? I guess I should start at the beginning…which was technically before me, so here we go. I was born into a muggle family, of course. Have I mentioned that yet? My parents were both completely normal muggles…not really high up on the social ladder, though, if you get my drift. There‘s my mother, a complete dear. A little odd, I guess, but still completely lovely in general. She worked as a waitress when she ended up pregnant with me, and actually still is to this very day. The way she met my father is pretty ironic, I think. Right at the tiny little place she was serving food to. My father walked in, hungry as could be…and according to her the second she took his drink order she knew it was just kind of meant to be. Like they were drawn together with a string or something of the sort…completely lovely, really, if you ask me.

So you know what goes next, right? The two had barely been dating for a week before I was “conceived“. Naturally my grandparents weren‘t all that happy, but there wasn‘t much they could do…my mother, however, was completely ecstatic. I mean, she was young. Only eighteen years old, not married…they weren‘t even a in a very serious relationship. But she never really saw what was coming next, I don‘t think. She says she really thought it was a good thing…that maybe he would propose or something, they would spend together forever (together? Ha!). But after asking my grandmother about it she was quick to say that my father broke my mothers heart. Dumped her, I guess you could say. Said he wanted nothing to do with me, because I probably wasn‘t even his. My mother was heartbroken, two months pregnant, and didn‘t really know what do do. Really, if you think about it my father could easily be a wizard…I‘ve never met the man. But if he was my mother didn‘t know…maybe she was even under a love spell or something.

Before my father had left her my mother had all intentions on raising me. But once that all happened…well, she just wasn‘t up for it. I can‘t blame her, really. So while she went on a trip to discover herself I stayed with my loving grandparents. I‘m guessing I was happy…my mother‘s little trip lasted a grand total of five years, but at least I saw her on my Birthday every year…or at least got a phone call. And she was always home for Christmas. Plus I was well fed, happy, all that…I have no complaints about my childhood, even though it might not be the traditional kind you see in the movies and such.

Like I said, her trip lasted five years…and then after that she decided she was ready. Said she‘d matured a lot, even though she was only twenty-three. She‘d had enough running around the world chasing things she didn‘t even care about. My grandmother said she was probably trying to find my father, but I don‘t really know what to believe. All I know is that right before I started my first year in muggle school my mother shipped me off to America where I quickly lost my Irish accent, made friends, and grew up as normally as humanly possible. I wasn‘t all that popular in school…okay, everyone thought I was odd. Even though I didn‘t start showing my signs of powers until the age of eight I just think there was something off about me, I don‘t know. Either way most students tended to try and steer clear of me at all costs.

By the time I got into fourth grade I was just kind of assuming it was because I wasn‘t traditionally pretty or rich or anything…I mean, my mom was a waitress for crying out loud. And that was before my hair darkened to auburn, and it was just a carrot-esque red, really. Not to mention my freckles, which you can barely see now, took over my face back in the day. So while I had a good friend or two for the most part all I got was weird looks and the occasional invitation to a party. Always because their parents where forcing them to invite me.

It was at the age of eleven that my mother got sick. No worries, though, she did get better...but we still moved back to England so my grandmother could help her get better or something along those lines. I guess I was a lot happier then...sure, I had to start the process of making friends again, but whatever. At least I had my grandmother...and my mother got well quite quickly...and that was also the age I got my letter. None of my family really knew what to do. Was it a joke? It didn't even make sense...witch? My mother just laughed, it was shortly after recovering, and threw it away. But they kept coming and kept coming...eventually there was nothing I could do other than believe. I started wondering...thinking about all the odd things I could do that my mother said was just because I was "special". But no matter how special you were the fact that I'd once made the prettiest girl in school break out in acne in the middle of the classroom was just some kind of hint to me.

But despite my urging that maybe the letters were right they were thrown away. Ripped. Burned. Laughed off. Even by my loving grandmother...and then the last letter came. The one that exploded ( I now know it as a howler) and screamed. And it was then that everyone was convinced that, yes, I was a witch. How I was no one really knew, but I was and there was no denying that.

The next thing I know I'm walking through a wall onto some platform, hopping on a train...and at Hogwarts, surrounded by kids in robes that matched mine and missing my parents like crazy, but it didn't really last long. I can remember my sorting quite clearly...sitting on the stool, and then feeling the overly large hat touch my head. I couldn't help but hope none of the students had head lice or anything, me being my little mundane self. The hat took quite a while sorting me, though...or maybe it just felt like that. But while I was listening to him speak, wondering if everyone else heard it, I was pretty much shaking. Until it screamed out I was in Gryffendor (a name I thought odd) and I was getting clapped on the back by all the friendly students.

It was there at that feast that I finally felt...normal. Like I was a real kids with friends. It was a pretty good feeling, and even though I still missed my mother I...well, I liked it. Everything about it just made me feel...I can't even describe it. I quickly made friends, enemies, everything. And by the age of fourteen my freckles disappeared, my hair darkened...and the opposite sex actually started noticing me, which was nice. I even started dating or whatever a little bit.

My Summer's were probably the most normal thing, which were spent with my mother. As much as I did miss school I enjoyed them, though...until one of those Summer's, last Summer actually, my grandfather died. While I was the only one home, and my mother and grandmother were out shopping.

It kind of changed me, I think. While, even back before Hogwarts, I was just kind of loud...maybe even annoying...outgoing for sure...I've grown up a lot. Mellowed out, I guess you could say. At first people always questioned it, but I now I just think they've all kind of settled in. Maybe it was because at the age of fifteen I also started actually feeling like the world issues mattered to me...either way to this very day I'm not really myself. I'm still friends with the same people, still visit my family during the summers...but I'm different, I guess. That was also about the time I started in with drugs...before that I shied away from them, you know? Saw no point in them...but my grandfather's dead took a toll on me. And since then I've done just about everything in the book, from pot to shrooms. I'm not proud of it, and most people don't know it...just the few people I've done it with. So unless they spread it around it's my dirty little secret...then again, us students have big mouths.

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"MY WHOLE FAMILY HAVE BEEN IN SLYTHERIN."
"BLIMEY, AND I THOUGHT YOU SEEMED ALL RIGHT!"
• the handler • the handler • the handler •
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( ALIAS ) : elizabeth
( AGE ) : sixteen
( EXPERIENCE ) : two years, give or take
( CONTACT INFO ) :
aim: hooftyper57
msn: [e-mail]
or PM
( HOW'D YOU FIND US? ) : advertisement on my site, actually.
( SECRET PHRASE ) : fuck off, admin edit!
( ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE ) : eh, this is just a recent one. not my best or anything. aahah. oh, and just a little note that i recycled some of this from another site i'm on...if that's not okay i'll rewrite it all.

In a lot of ways Billie Jean wasn’t really like other models. The overly tall, overly thin model thing had just never been her type of thing. Sure, she was pretty tall…but she wasn’t six feet. And although she was nowhere near fat, she also didn’t weigh ninety pound soaking wet either. Probably because unlike a majority of models, or even females, on earth she actually ate. Quite unhealthily, too, but she was a teenager. A teenage model, maybe, but a teenager nonetheless. With her healthy motabilism and the fact that her mother paid for her to have a personal trainer, and gym membership she was quite fit, and perfectly fine with her body for the most part. Maybe a few more “curves” would have helped her out a bit…although then again, in her profession curves weren’t usually something all that necessary…more her stick-like figure was pretty near perfect.

Still, as she found herself walking towards the cafeteria she knew she was attracting quite a few odd looks. The cafeteria in the modeling agency that she belonged to was mostly used by staff members, or photographers. Designers, make-up artists…people who didn’t need to worry quite so much about their figure. Even though there were always a few healthy choices, for the most part Billie Jean shied away from them. Oh, there was definitely something odd about the girl walking into the cafeteria, still in full hair and make-up, just getting back from a quick photoshoot. Luckily she wasn’t wearing the clothes, or anything, so she might have even been able to blend in as a photographer if not for the fact that she was known around the place.

The girl did take small comfort in the fact that if her co workers didn’t think she was odd because of her eating habits, they thought her odd for some other reason. Like the fact that whenever anyone complained about anything Billie Jean was quick to blame it on the fact that Mars was in the Twelfth House, or that it was just a bad day in general for their zodiac sign. And yet despite all this Billie Jean was incredibly well liked…sure, some people were probably afraid of her and her oddness, but for the most part she was well respected. As well respected as a sixteen year old model could be, that is.

As she marched over to where the food was located, she grabbed a plate and smiled sweetly at one of the workers who smiled back. That was another thing about the girl: where most people kind of treated the workers like they weren’t even there, Billie was her normal, sweet self to them. Smiling, calling them by their names…and in return they always saved her a piece of apple pie, even on the days when she wasn’t going to be dining there. //

[/i] blah]“What’s on the menu today, Emma?” She questioned, looking over the food with an interested expression on her kind face, speaking to one of her favorite workers, a short chubby woman who reminded her of her grandmother in so many ways.

While there was probably a lot more on the menu, Emma knew just what Billie Jean would have picked. Even if she hadn’t been working at STORM as long as some, she had already made her mark in a few key ways. ‘We have your favorite mac n’ cheese’ the worker replied, making Billie Jean’s lips turn up. Other than her grandmother’s lasagna Mac and Cheese was her favorite food on earth. “Then I’ll have that!” She replied, sweetly, putting her plate out as the woman dropped a spoonful on it, slipping what seemed to be the last piece of pie next to it, even though she didn’t ask. ]“Thanks!” She said, as the woman nodded and Billie grabbed a fork before walking away.

Even though she ate there a lot of the time she still didn’t have a certain place she ate every day. So instead she just sat down at the first empty table there was, figuring someone would eventually sit next to her. And if they didn’t it was no big deal. Some days she was joined, some days she wasn’t, some days she even dragged her boyfriend along to keep her company. It really made no difference.[/quote][/font][/size][/blockquote]

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"WEIRDOS, THAT'S WHAT YOU TWO ARE.
IT'S GOOD YOU'RE BEING SEPARATED FROM NORMAL PEOPLE."
• the credits • the credits • the credits •
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heyyy. this application was made by salinaa! of caution 2.0.
don't steal or she'll come to you in the middle of the night and
own you up with her mad ninja skillz. word up, fo shizzle drizzle.
all quotes from the amazing series of harry potter. go read them!
fill it out completely or you'll get nowhere. if you're a canon,
make sure to check your facts. if you're an original, then, well,
go crazy, yo. specifics are nice, but no two-page long histories.
be creative! oh, and please, don't forget: have fun! that is, after
all, what roleplaying is really all about in the long run. <3

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[bethany danica moinly.]

approved! great app =] welcome to school of scar, and thanks for joining =] make sure you go claim all the necessary things and start a thread or two.

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