REVOLUTIONIST, roxy jones
posted May 16, 2019 15:46:30 GMT -6
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[attr="class","REVOLUTIONIST"]
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[attr="class","omapponetop2"]revolution calling
[attr="class","omapponetop1"]FILES LOCATED UNDER
ROXANNE JONES
ROXANNE JONES
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ROXANNE JONES
LOOKS LIKE YORHA TYPE A NO.2 FROM NIER: AUTOMATA
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FILE NAVIGATION
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ABOUT ROXANNE
ABOUT ROXANNE
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ROXY, ROX
[attr="class","lnr lnr-star"]
ROXY, ROX
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
27 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","lnr lnr-gift"]
27 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
NONBINARY
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NONBINARY
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USUALLY SHE / HER
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USUALLY SHE / HER
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PANSEXUAL
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PANSEXUAL
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GREYROMANTIC
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GREYROMANTIC
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SINGLE
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SINGLE
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NOVEMBER 1
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NOVEMBER 1
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SCORPIO
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SCORPIO
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BARTENDER, PROPAGANDA WK.
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BARTENDER, PROPAGANDA WK.
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[attr="class","omapponetabs1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
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RECENT STATUS
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not your manic pixie dream girl, i’m the bitch smashing in your car window.
not your manic pixie dream girl, i’m the bitch smashing in your car window.
[attr="class","omapponepersonality1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
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[attr="class","omapponelikes2"]POSITIVES
laid-back
witty
honest
loyal
worldly
sentimental
observant
playful
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[attr="class","omapponelikes1"]
[attr="class","omapponelikes2"]NEGATIVES
explosive
careless
vulgar
lazy
quick-tempered
haughty
coquettish
nosy
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[attr="class","omapponetabs2"]MISCELLANEOUS
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MISCELLANEOUS INFO
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+ She has a younger brother, with which she has a slightly rocky relationship with. But she loves him with everything she’s got, regardless of their problems.[break][break]
+ Rox dropped out of school when he was eighteen, after being held back a year for shoddy grades, bad behaviour and poor attendance. She mostly blames the education system for failing her and her teachers for never once inquiring about the bruises she so often came to class with.[break][break]
+ Roxy isn’t very impressive in terms of height, standing at a modest 5’4”. But what she lacks in stature, she more than makes up with in personality. [break][break]
+ Between her bartending job and spreading the word of the revolution, she’ll often stop to busk for a few hours every few weeks. Rox usually plays her acoustic or archtop guitar, and she’ll sing just about any song. While she’s actually played for venues before, it isn’t something she does too often anymore. [break][break]
+ She has the potential to be quite an impressive enforcer, but for now, it isn't in her official job description. [break][break]
+ Rox uses feminine pronouns more than any other simply for conveniences sake. She’s aware of how she looks and is too lazy to bother correcting people when they make assumptions. She isn’t about to explain her identity to every person she meets, let them assume what they want. [break][break]
+ While Rox is pan, she has a definite preference for gals and other nonbinary pals. [break][break]
+ She’s only ever fallen in love once.
+ She has a younger brother, with which she has a slightly rocky relationship with. But she loves him with everything she’s got, regardless of their problems.[break][break]
+ Rox dropped out of school when he was eighteen, after being held back a year for shoddy grades, bad behaviour and poor attendance. She mostly blames the education system for failing her and her teachers for never once inquiring about the bruises she so often came to class with.[break][break]
+ Roxy isn’t very impressive in terms of height, standing at a modest 5’4”. But what she lacks in stature, she more than makes up with in personality. [break][break]
+ Between her bartending job and spreading the word of the revolution, she’ll often stop to busk for a few hours every few weeks. Rox usually plays her acoustic or archtop guitar, and she’ll sing just about any song. While she’s actually played for venues before, it isn’t something she does too often anymore. [break][break]
+ She has the potential to be quite an impressive enforcer, but for now, it isn't in her official job description. [break][break]
+ Rox uses feminine pronouns more than any other simply for conveniences sake. She’s aware of how she looks and is too lazy to bother correcting people when they make assumptions. She isn’t about to explain her identity to every person she meets, let them assume what they want. [break][break]
+ While Rox is pan, she has a definite preference for gals and other nonbinary pals. [break][break]
+ She’s only ever fallen in love once.
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[attr="class","omapponemisc13"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc2"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
+history
+violence
+girls
+mischief
+alt rock
+cds
+attention
+country
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[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
-personal questions
-citrus
-sunburns
-early mornings
-orders
-ignorance
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[attr="class","omapponetabs3"]SUBJECT BIOGRAPHY
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no matter how many times it happened, joan never said anything. every time you came to her door, late and covered in bruises with your brother’s hand clutched tightly in your own - she never said a word. she looked at you with those pretty brown eyes filled with helplessness and dragged you inside. [break][break]
she knows what happened. she always knew. the only time you’d come close to telling her, you’d been ten and she’d panicked upon seeing the purple-black mark wrapped around your arm. “my dad.” that’s all she’d needed to hear. after that, she never asked again. [break][break]
she just tried her best to make it better. [break][break]
sitting under the bright bathroom light, everyone was asleep except you and joan. you could hear your brother snoring in the next room, but that is the only sound that pierces the silence. [break][break]
the brunette didn’t seemed bothered by the uncharacteristic quiet, her dark eyes focused on the bloody knuckles she was carefully wrapping up. you’d tried to fight back again. just like last time, it’d only made it worse. [break][break]
you don’t want to think of him anymore. anything would be nicer to think about. anything is better than looking up at the mirror and seeing those eyes staring back at you. so you look at joan. [break][break]
and you feel your heart settle. [break][break]
idly, you wonder why you never told joan how gorgeous she was. her crooked smile and her freckled cheeks, those tired eyes and that massive heart. all those parts came together to make such an amazing, beautiful person. why not tell her that?
[break][break]
the answer is simple, and barely required the few seconds spent pondering it.
[break][break]
if you told her, she wouldn’t believe you.
[break][break]
somehow, the thought pushes a rueful smile on your face.[break][break]
“you have his eyes.”[break][break]
you have his eyes. those cold blue eyes that never had a touch of warm to them, like a block of ice. if your mother’s eyes were dark and warm, like sitting next to a cosy hearth in winter, then you father’s eyes were like being thrown into the middle of a blizzard.[break][break]
always angry, always unsatisfied, always craving something, always looking for a fight. there was no softness, no remorse. no love. just cold ice blue. [break] [break]
you have his eyes.[break][break]
you turn those eyes on your brother and you feel a pit form in your stomach when he flinches. [break] [break]
it hurts.[break][break]
you try to swallow down the rising heartbreak and venom that you want to spit in response to those horrid words. it hurts so much, to be compared to him. to have your worst fears spoken aloud. [break][break]
“you’re like him. a monster.” that’s all you can hear in your brother’s words, and a part of you recoils. [break][break]
you say the only thing you can think of, the words clumsy and harsh on your tongue. they aren’t an insult or a deflection or denial.
they are as good as agreement. [break] [break]
“shut the fuck up.” [break][break]
you don’t cry at the old man’s funeral. [break][break]
your brother does. [break][break]
fat, oily tears down pale cheeks and loud, heaving sobs. you are silent, and your cheeks are bone dry. [break][break]
you remembered your brother’s teary eyes on you as you stood silently, ice blue eyes staring blankly at the ground. [break][break]
you think about the fact that you no longer have a father and you feel nothing. your gaze drifts to the familiar stone next to your father’s and all you can think is, that he didn’t deserve to be buried next to her. [break][break]
maybe you are like your father. [break][break]
well, even if you are… you don’t care anymore. [break][break]
“fuck him. i hope he rots.” [break][break]
then you turn your back on the fresh grave and walk away.
a shining light.
no matter how many times it happened, joan never said anything. every time you came to her door, late and covered in bruises with your brother’s hand clutched tightly in your own - she never said a word. she looked at you with those pretty brown eyes filled with helplessness and dragged you inside. [break][break]
she knows what happened. she always knew. the only time you’d come close to telling her, you’d been ten and she’d panicked upon seeing the purple-black mark wrapped around your arm. “my dad.” that’s all she’d needed to hear. after that, she never asked again. [break][break]
she just tried her best to make it better. [break][break]
sitting under the bright bathroom light, everyone was asleep except you and joan. you could hear your brother snoring in the next room, but that is the only sound that pierces the silence. [break][break]
the brunette didn’t seemed bothered by the uncharacteristic quiet, her dark eyes focused on the bloody knuckles she was carefully wrapping up. you’d tried to fight back again. just like last time, it’d only made it worse. [break][break]
you don’t want to think of him anymore. anything would be nicer to think about. anything is better than looking up at the mirror and seeing those eyes staring back at you. so you look at joan. [break][break]
and you feel your heart settle. [break][break]
idly, you wonder why you never told joan how gorgeous she was. her crooked smile and her freckled cheeks, those tired eyes and that massive heart. all those parts came together to make such an amazing, beautiful person. why not tell her that?
[break][break]
the answer is simple, and barely required the few seconds spent pondering it.
[break][break]
if you told her, she wouldn’t believe you.
[break][break]
somehow, the thought pushes a rueful smile on your face.[break][break]
a betrayal.
“you have his eyes.”[break][break]
you have his eyes. those cold blue eyes that never had a touch of warm to them, like a block of ice. if your mother’s eyes were dark and warm, like sitting next to a cosy hearth in winter, then you father’s eyes were like being thrown into the middle of a blizzard.[break][break]
always angry, always unsatisfied, always craving something, always looking for a fight. there was no softness, no remorse. no love. just cold ice blue. [break] [break]
you have his eyes.[break][break]
you turn those eyes on your brother and you feel a pit form in your stomach when he flinches. [break] [break]
it hurts.[break][break]
you try to swallow down the rising heartbreak and venom that you want to spit in response to those horrid words. it hurts so much, to be compared to him. to have your worst fears spoken aloud. [break][break]
“you’re like him. a monster.” that’s all you can hear in your brother’s words, and a part of you recoils. [break][break]
you say the only thing you can think of, the words clumsy and harsh on your tongue. they aren’t an insult or a deflection or denial.
they are as good as agreement. [break] [break]
“shut the fuck up.” [break][break]
a resolution, but not an end.
you don’t cry at the old man’s funeral. [break][break]
your brother does. [break][break]
fat, oily tears down pale cheeks and loud, heaving sobs. you are silent, and your cheeks are bone dry. [break][break]
you remembered your brother’s teary eyes on you as you stood silently, ice blue eyes staring blankly at the ground. [break][break]
you think about the fact that you no longer have a father and you feel nothing. your gaze drifts to the familiar stone next to your father’s and all you can think is, that he didn’t deserve to be buried next to her. [break][break]
maybe you are like your father. [break][break]
well, even if you are… you don’t care anymore. [break][break]
“fuck him. i hope he rots.” [break][break]
then you turn your back on the fresh grave and walk away.
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[attr="class","omapponetabs4"]PLAYER
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call me
KILEO
call me
KILEO
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DISCORD
19 YEARS OLD | SHE / HER | AEST |
DISCORD
[attr="class","omapponerenown"]
5%
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