dexter everett reedy

[dex]

-- DEXTER EVERETT REEDY !

-- NAME: Dexter Everett Reedy
-- NICKNAMES: Dex, Reedy, EverBear (only his mother calls him that), Weedy Reedy
-- AGE & BIRTHDAY: 21 & February 15
-- BIRTH PLACE: Alhambra, California
-- ORIENTATION: Heterosexual …not that he’s had a chance to practice it.
-- OCCUPATION & SCHOOL GRADE: cartoonist, comic book store employee
-- PLAYED BY: Matthew Beard

-- PERSONALITY !

-- CONSIDERATE: What Dexter lacks in suaveness, he makes up for in thoughtfulness. He really tries to put himself in the shoes of others and then goes out of his way to do things for them that he feels they would appreciate. He has good intentions and though the end result may not be spectacular or perfect, the amount of effort he puts in is more than enough to show people that he cares. He’s not overwhelmingly sweet or bursting at the seams with kindness, but he has a way of making people feel more comfortable, more welcome…especially when that person has trouble fitting in. He knows what it’s like to be the outcast and tends to reach out to people who struggle to find a place to belong. He looks beyond his own situation to actively try and understand the hardships of others which makes him a patient person and unfortunately a bit of a doormat.
-- AWKWARD: When you’ve been a four-eyed beanpole for all of your important development years with a love for comic books, you don’t exactly get invited to all the hot and happening parties. Aside from a close group of friends (which mainly consisted of some people in art class, the book club, and an exchange student from Thailand who didn’t really speak English) Dexter did not socialize very much or very well with anyone else. He was tormented mercilessly by those a bit more genetically gifted and learned very fast that his ‘place’ in the world was away from all those beautiful people. He keeps his complaints to himself (especially if someone with biceps larger than his head is in the vicinity) and has developed a somewhat timid and nervous disposition. He tends to talk endlessly about nothing important at all when he feels uncomfortable and when he’s more comfortable with a person, he has a slightly sarcastic, quiet, and self-deprecating sense of humor. Parties and gatherings out of his little Geek World make him feel sorely out of place.
-- CREATIVE: Dexter is definitely the type of guy who’s more impressive on paper than in person. While comic books are his passion and calling in life, he actually majored in Illustration from a highly prestigious school in California and graduated top of his class. He’s gotten his work in several group shows and a few illustration annuals and for the past year has been drawing a successful web comic. He loves to create things and will draw on any surface that is within reach. Even if there is nothing to draw with, he’ll find something, anything, he can do with his hands and keep himself occupied. He has hundreds of ideas and sketches that he jots down in countless notebooks and often likes to tackle problems creatively. He loves things that are unique and quirky and is drawn towards many different creative pursuits. He’d enjoy visiting an art gallery or a poetry reading just as much as he enjoys Comic Con.

-- LOVES: comic books, video games, drawing, movies/tv, music, sleeping, pies, reading, foreign soap operas, take-out, socks, fan mail, conventions, taking walks, breaking in new pencils, getting paid
-- HATES: bullies, seafood, unflattering nicknames, liars, thieves, internet trolls, waking up early, wearing fancy clothing, things that remind him of high school, cleaning, his complete and total inability to be ‘cool’, smokers.

-- HISTORY !

Dexter Everett Reedy was born to Maryanne Reedy and Hunter Lowel just a year into their new marriage. Getting married to Hunter Lowel was an impulsive decision on Maryanne’s part. A man five years her junior had spun her a web of sweet nothings and, in an attempt to not be lonely for the rest of her life, she agreed to marry him in hopes he’d grown into a more mature man as time went on. Clearly not ready for a baby, Dexter’s father began to regret ever getting married in the first place. Before his son had his second birthday, Hunter Lowel packed his bags, left a note, and hit the road. The divorce papers came in the mail two months later and, as a symbolic gesture, went down to the courthouse and had both her and her son’s name changed from Lowel back to Reedy.

Though his mother was heartbroken for a while, she was lucky that the Reedy family all banded together to support her. She moved in with her older sister and together they opened a bakery called Reedy’s Pies. Dexter grew up with his two cousins, his grandfather, his aunt, and his mother all under the same roof of a big old house in California and life was very, very good…until he had to go play with other kids. With glasses half the size of his face, pale skin, stick thin arms and legs, he was like a wounded animal surrounded by a pack of lions. One exceedingly clever eight year old boy managed to rhyme ‘weedy’ with ‘Reedy’ and from then onwards everyone called him Weedy Reedy.

School became hell. Dexter didn’t have any friends and spent most of his time either trying to avoid getting beaten up or getting beaten up when he simply wasn’t fast enough. His mother would bring him slices of pie and milk and stroke his hair while he cried, but wasn’t quite sure how to help him. Dexter’s grandfather, in hopes of giving Dexter some comfort, gave some of his old comic books to Dexter. One issue and Dex was hooked on the things, comic books became his life. He met other kids at school who shared his hobbies and he made friends. Though his mother worried that he wasn’t getting the right type of social interaction he needed, she was glad he had friends and left it alone at that.

Having friends didn’t make Dexter any less of a geek…but traveling in a pack of geeks did lessen the amount of beatings he suffered. As he got older he began drawing a lot and discovered he had a talent for it. He took art classes and seriously began to pursue the idea of becoming a cartoonist. Aside from hanging out with his friends and taking art classes, high school was awful for Dexter. All the bullies seemed to have gained rippling muscles, all the better to beat him with and worse yet, he began to have feelings for girls who took delight in treading over his heart in four inch heels. The day he graduated his mother bought him contacts so he wouldn’t have to suffer broken glasses anymore, kissed him on the cheek, and sent him off to art school with her blessings. Saying goodbye to being Weedy Reedy was what he’d been waiting for. He went to prestigious art college and graduated top of his class, finally considered to be ‘cool’…in his respective field, at least. A fresh graduate, Dexter headed to Capeside to work on his comics and work towards getting published.

-- SAMPLE !

(An intro as Harry for a 1x1 – Nikki and Jess should remember what my posting is like!)
Waking up in the morning wasn't ever going to get better, Harry realized. After either a dreamless sleep or a restless sleep he usually woke up being half smothered by his pillow and comforters or he just didn't want to wake up period. Sometimes it was just nice to lie in a cocoon of blankets, staring at a crease in his white sheets, almost suffocating in the warmth covering his entire form. This was one of those mornings; a crisp and chilly October morning with bright sunlight streaming over the damp streets of London. He enjoyed that type of morning, but he liked it to be quiet.

Tap tap tap tap.

He scrunched up his closed eyes and butted his head against his pillows, trying to wriggle his way underneath to block out the sound.

Tap...tap...taptaptaptapTAPTAPTAP--CRACK

Bright green eyes shot open suddenly at the sound of his window fighting, in vain, the advances of a very aggressive owl. Fumbling around on his bedside, his fingers brushed blindly over two framed pictures before finally grabbing his glasses. One picture was of his parents, dancing and smiling under a gentle fall of snow around a fountain and the second was of him, Ron, and Hermione smiling and waving while at Hogwarts. He had other pictures in his photo album...but usually he was really not in the mood to look at them. He saw enough of those faces in his dreams anyways. Mumbling and yawning, Harry slipped out of bed, passing by the mirror while shivering at the sudden chill. Under his loose t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms the gangly teenager had matured into a man. Tall, with sturdy shoulders, still very slender with long legs and tough, wiry muscle packed onto his frame. The familiar untamed mess of black hair, bright green eyes with round glasses, and the world-famous lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead remained unchanged.

The Boy Who Lived.

Mildly irritated, he opened the window for the persistent owl with a wince, grimly eyeing the envelope with the Ministry's seal on the back. The Boy Who Lived to Be Very Cross, he corrected impatiently in his mind, reaching for the letter. The owl nipped at him with a sharp beak, making him hiss and grab for the letter with a mutter. As soon as he opened it, a prim and proper woman's voice greeted him, the letter's flap opening and closing to follow the pattern of the words.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

The highly respected and noble Wizengamot has requested your presence to be at the trial of Draco Malfoy as a witness. It is believed that testimony from a highly experienced wizard such as yourself would be most useful. Thank you in advance for your cooperation!

Sincerely,
Bethany Billybumbler
Wizengamot Council"

Hah! His testimony would be helpful? They just wanted his name to be there, not his opinion on anything. Scowling, he glared at the letter before letting the owl back out his window, watching the creature fly off into the cold morning. Draco Malfoy was it...? He hadn’t seen that snarky, pale-faced git in....two years. His fingers tensed on the window ledge before he frowned and looked at the letter again. He wondered what they were charging him with. Arrogance? Obscene use of hair gel? Death Eater-ness? …Inbreeding?

Harry didn't really know, but he did know that when he thought of Draco Malfoy he remembered two things the most above all the bastard things Draco had done and the stupid things he'd said. First: the image of Draco scrubbing tear tracks off his pale face in the bathroom, looking positively terrified in sixth year (quickly followed by the Slytherin laying stunned in a spreading pool of blood). The second being the eleven year old Draco he met in Madam Malkins, the almost friendly attitude he had, and the small pale hand that had been offered to him in friendship so long ago. The young man looked down at his tense fingers and then simply let the ledge go, backing away with a subdued look. Well, he thought to himself dully, we were young then.

He might as well get dressed and go to court, the curiosity was overwhelming. Still, he could not help but to feel weary. It had been two years since the war and these trials were still going on. Some part of him glumly doubted that the trials would ever really end.

-- OOC !

-- NAME OR ALIAS: Ang
-- AGE: 21
-- THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOU: Amazingly Sleepless Procrastinator
-- HOW YOU FOUND US: RPG-Directory (though I know two of the admins!)

[* TRENT THE GOLDFISH SPY]

-- ACCEPTED !