Post by tatum elise woods on Feb 11, 2010 16:42:39 GMT -5
[img*]image of character here
[/img]T A T U M- E L I S E - W O O D S ,[/center]
nicknames ,
- - - tater tot.
age ,
- - - seventeen.
occupation ,
- - - various odd jobs.
member group ,
- - - senior
personality ,
- - - distracted easily, sensitive though doesn't show it, impatient, sporty, violent, somewhat of a hypocrite, independent, slightly bitchy, reckless, adventurous, moody, determined, attempts to be non-judgemental, intelligent, protective, confident, loud, outgoing.
family ,
- - - mother = alice woods, father = nathaniel woods, older brother = benjamin woods.
history ,
- - - Tatum was born to Alice and Nathaniel Woods on December 30th. Both Alice and Nathaniel had come from very wealthy families; Alice had a family of doctors on her side, while Nathaniel’s side owned a very successful business. They already had a child when Tatum was born; Benjamin. Benjamin was about two years older than his younger sister, and looked nothing like her, what with his dark hair and brown eyes being very different from her blonde hair and stunning blueish-greenish eyes. The Woods family lived in New York City, one of the largest cities in the country.
Tatum was very well-educated at a young age. She was given tutors alongside her regular education, and took music lessons, sports lessons, dancing lessons, everything that her parents could manage to fit into her schedule. As she grew older and got to middle scool, she began to protest against the heavy schedule that her parents forced upon her and they backed down. The girl could only take so much. There was no way for Tatum to juggle flute lessons, piano lessons, dance lessons, singing lessons, tennis and other sports lessons, tutoring, regular homework, a straight A average, and a social life that she had to keep well intact due to her parents all while in elementary school. She forced her parents to let her stop all of her musical-related lessons, because she had found that she was more interested in sports than she was in playing a piece of metal with holes.
Her relationship with her family was quite odd. Tatum was very distant from her mother, who only seemed to be interested showing off her kids at parties. She was close to her father in the respect that she could always depend on him to do anything for his little princess. Her older brother was the only one that Tatum felt that she could trust and relate to, but he was always annoyed by having a little sister following him around and beating his friends at hockey; it was only when she was well into his teenage years that his protective genes kicked in and they became somewhat close. She was always under the impression that she could not talk to her family about her feelings and whatever was on her mind, so she lost herself in books and the problems of others. The books made her realize that regardless of what she thought, her problems were insignificant compared the problems of other people. It was through books that Tatum began to become thankful for her life and not turn out to become a spoiled bitchy snob that seemed to dominate the wealthy families and tried to show off.
When Tatum was in fifth grade, her father decided that moving to California would be better for his business. So he dragged his entire family from the East Coast to the West Coast, just in time for Tatum to start middle school in LA. She adjusted fairly well and actually started making friends because her schedule was not extremely hectic and she was not as closed off as before. In New York, Tatum had barely had time to do all of her out of school activities and still make time to read by herself; forget making friends. Tatum had taken advantage of her move to LA and convinced her parents to let her stop all of her musical lessons as they took up most of her time and she was not really interested in any of that stuff. She also managed to get rid of her tutor and finally began to have a social life by reinventing herself.
However, when it was time for high school, her parents would not let Tatum go to the local high school. No, she was going to go to Norrington Academy, one of the best high schools there was. She was shipped off to Santa Ria her freshman year, but she was confident. She managed to fit in pretty well, make friends, and still keep her grades up; after all, Tatum knew her daddy would not be pleased if she did not keep her grades completely perfect. Some people avoided her because they believed her to be the typical rich girl; snobby, bitchy, controlling, and intolerable. Tatum did not completely personify the typical rich girl, but she did to a certain extent. She has always been somewhat controlling and bossy by believing that her way is always the best way to do things. In group projects, she does not hesitate to take control and say ‘This is what we’re gonna do. You do this, I’ll do this, and we’re gonna end up with this. If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do by the time you‘re supposed to do it, I’ll fucking kick your ass.’ Tatum can be bitchy when she’s having a bad day or if someone’s trying to help her; she’s the type of girl that does not let other people do her dirty work for her. If she wants to complete a 1000+ piece jigsaw puzzle, she’s going to do it herself. Don’t try to help her, or she’ll get mad. These qualities have, in some way, turned Tatum into a tomboy (which has made her fellow schoolmates even more hesitant to approach her) but since she’s not the shy girl who will not talk to anyone, she has friends.
Tatum’s blooming social life helped her to get through her first three years at Norrington, but just when things were starting to get better, her parents threw another surprise her way. She was supposed to get married once she graduated from Norrington Academy… to some guy that she only knew of because she had met like two or three times at some parties her parents dragged her along to years and years ago. Since it was the son of her father’s good friend, it was apparently okay to shove Tatum into a marriage with him. She’s been trying to convince her parents out of it, but her parents are stuck in their ways; they believe an arranged marriage will be best for financial reasons, considering the American economy. Besides, since their own had worked out, they assumed their daughter’s would as well, especially considering it was to the son of someone who Tatum’s dad had known before she was even born.
The families took advantage of the fact that Norrington Academy was opening its originally female-only doors to males now, and sent Tatum’s ‘fiance’ there to join her so they would get to know each other before having to spend the rest of their lives together. Tatum herself has not completely come to terms with the fact that she’s going to get married, and instead chooses to ignore it and go on with her life. She’s currently under the impression that she can convince her parents out of it like she did with those various music lessons. Her future, at least in the way Tatum is planning it, lies in teaching kindergarten or even the culinary arts. In her mind, there’s not going to be an arranged marriage; she plans on getting her way.
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HEY THERE, I'M TATUM AND I'M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD! I'VE BEEN RUNNING AROUND THE ROLEPLAY WORLD FOR A YEAR AND YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY ROLEPLAY SAMPLE BELOW! AS YOU CAN SEE, I'M USING AMBER HEARD AS THE PLAY-BY FOR THIS CHARACTER. OH, AND MY OTHER CHARACTERS ARE NOBODY!
Tatum had been extremely confused when she first opened the door. The room of requirement had turned into a room quite similar to what she imagined the headmaster's office looked like at the moment. There were an enormous amount of bookshelves containing books that, it seemed, nobody had ever dared to touch. An intricate rug laid upon the floor, proving it's high cost with all the detailed designs within it, as did an empty wine bottle. The brunette's eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of the bottle as a sick feeling settled in her stomach; she even had to stop herself from taking a few steps back and deciding not to pursue her magazine. Any sign of alcohol made her very uneasy, as did the sound of broken glass and yelling, but she had learned to cope with the fact that most people her age were involved with this kind of crap. Tatum had yet to figure out what was so bloody great about losing your self-control to feel numb for a few hours. If you asked her for an alternative, she'd just tell you to go lay in the snow. There was really no reason to drink away your problems; if they're really that bad and you're that much of a wimp to stick it out, go fucking kill yourself by laying in the snow.
An eyebrow raised as Tatum looked at the male, one whose name was Maximilian Rosier. The Rosier family line was one of the few that had not gone completely astray from the traditional pureblood beliefs, like hers had. Her older brother was training to become a fucking auror, something that neither her dad nor the Death Eaters would have that good of a response to, if they were able to do anything about it. Max was sitting quite eerily in a chair in front of a welcoming fire, with a broken glass on the floor next to him. His response to her question, that even she would admit was kinda rude, was not exactly as insulting as she expected. 'oh, so nice of you to grace me with your presence, tatum, i was trying to pass the time. maybe you would be so kind to help me with that.'
No thanks. Max looked like he was having some kind of spiritual moment with himself and his mind, and she did not want to bother him and end up screwing with his soul or something. Tatum opened her mouth automatically to respond to that, but then he spoke again. 'what brings you here, shouldn't you be on the quidditch pitch? that is what you do right? i never payed too much attention to you, don't take it the wrong way but you just don't interest me much' Tatum could not help rolling her eyes at his comment, though he did make a valid point. She should be out on the quidditch pitch, even though she was extremely tired and was not really in the mood... when she became a professional, she would not get to choose when she played in games, right? The officials wouldn't give a crap if it was her time of the month or if she had a rough night; it would be her job.
"I was looking for my magazine," Tatum began, not exactly mentioning that it was a quidditch magazine that she was searching for, "But I'm not so sure if I'll be able to find it in here." she finished, motioning toward the large room. She was now in a predicament. Should she go off and look through the bookshelves that Max had some weird need to conjure up? Or should she ask his permission to do so, in case looking through the bookshelves might damage his thinking process or get him mad or something? After a few moments of thinking, Tatum decided that she might as well ask. Not that she'd really care what his answer was; it was merely a formality unless he had an extremely good reason for her not to search for what was hers. "You mind if I start looking?" she asked hesitantly as she took a few steps inside of the room, though she had no clue where the fuck the magazine would be in a room like that. It certainly did not look like this last night, she was certain, but her magazine had apparently somehow made it here since this was what she had stumbled upon.
A small part of Tatum was tempted to join Max, near the fire. She was starting to feel the cold, now that she was this close to warmth, and was regretting not pulling on at least sweatpants or a proper shirt before leaving her dormitory. The brunette crossed her arms, rubbing them in an attempt to warm them up as she looked longingly at the warm fire that was only a few steps away. However, Tatum did not know much about Max. Judging by the empty bottle, he had been drinking, and she was not going to risk getting him mad. She had enough awful experiences with drunk men to even risk anything with someone like Max. He was not the type of person the brunette usually associated with. He was not on the quidditch team, nor did he seem to have a passion for cooking. The only similarities between them, or at least in Tatum's opinion, was the fact that they were in the same classes, house, and year. Nothing more.
An eyebrow raised as Tatum looked at the male, one whose name was Maximilian Rosier. The Rosier family line was one of the few that had not gone completely astray from the traditional pureblood beliefs, like hers had. Her older brother was training to become a fucking auror, something that neither her dad nor the Death Eaters would have that good of a response to, if they were able to do anything about it. Max was sitting quite eerily in a chair in front of a welcoming fire, with a broken glass on the floor next to him. His response to her question, that even she would admit was kinda rude, was not exactly as insulting as she expected. 'oh, so nice of you to grace me with your presence, tatum, i was trying to pass the time. maybe you would be so kind to help me with that.'
No thanks. Max looked like he was having some kind of spiritual moment with himself and his mind, and she did not want to bother him and end up screwing with his soul or something. Tatum opened her mouth automatically to respond to that, but then he spoke again. 'what brings you here, shouldn't you be on the quidditch pitch? that is what you do right? i never payed too much attention to you, don't take it the wrong way but you just don't interest me much' Tatum could not help rolling her eyes at his comment, though he did make a valid point. She should be out on the quidditch pitch, even though she was extremely tired and was not really in the mood... when she became a professional, she would not get to choose when she played in games, right? The officials wouldn't give a crap if it was her time of the month or if she had a rough night; it would be her job.
"I was looking for my magazine," Tatum began, not exactly mentioning that it was a quidditch magazine that she was searching for, "But I'm not so sure if I'll be able to find it in here." she finished, motioning toward the large room. She was now in a predicament. Should she go off and look through the bookshelves that Max had some weird need to conjure up? Or should she ask his permission to do so, in case looking through the bookshelves might damage his thinking process or get him mad or something? After a few moments of thinking, Tatum decided that she might as well ask. Not that she'd really care what his answer was; it was merely a formality unless he had an extremely good reason for her not to search for what was hers. "You mind if I start looking?" she asked hesitantly as she took a few steps inside of the room, though she had no clue where the fuck the magazine would be in a room like that. It certainly did not look like this last night, she was certain, but her magazine had apparently somehow made it here since this was what she had stumbled upon.
A small part of Tatum was tempted to join Max, near the fire. She was starting to feel the cold, now that she was this close to warmth, and was regretting not pulling on at least sweatpants or a proper shirt before leaving her dormitory. The brunette crossed her arms, rubbing them in an attempt to warm them up as she looked longingly at the warm fire that was only a few steps away. However, Tatum did not know much about Max. Judging by the empty bottle, he had been drinking, and she was not going to risk getting him mad. She had enough awful experiences with drunk men to even risk anything with someone like Max. He was not the type of person the brunette usually associated with. He was not on the quidditch team, nor did he seem to have a passion for cooking. The only similarities between them, or at least in Tatum's opinion, was the fact that they were in the same classes, house, and year. Nothing more.
