🎈🍓🐞🥊... and I'll be Predictable and request Victor, if you're Feeling It? 🥺
• Red OC Asks •
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🎈 WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER DO AT PARTIES? ARE THEY A WALLFLOWER OR A PARTY ANIMAL? DO THEY GO WITH FRIENDS OR ALONE?
As a younger individual, Vic is very prone to party behaviour. He had a handful of close enough friends that they rumbled around together; getting into trouble and finding opportunity to indulge himself is pretty typical for him.
He's much too busy with work as he gets older, but there's always an hour or two to stop at the bar during the week or over the weekend— larger parties/occasions, however, warrants him bringing his wife. And although he is sociable enough, he defaults to spending his time around her.
🍓 DOES YOUR OC BELIEVE IN ANYTHING? ARE THEY SUPERSTITIOUS? RELIGIOUS? ATHEISTIC? HAS ANYTHING IN THEIR PAST MADE THEM THIS WAY?
Victor's typically a staunch atheist, but there are things that rattle him— he doesn't buy into religion (if a God exists, why did X and Y happen to him? To Lars? Why did he happen to other people?) but there are haunts of more than only complete logic to his thought draw. He operates on gut instinct and feelings alone when it comes down to it; his weredog lines are reflected in certain traits and behaviours.
🐞 WHAT DOES A PERFECT DAY LOOK LIKE FOR YOUR OC? WHAT DO THEY DO? WHO DO THEY SEE?
Later down the line, that would probably be a typical Sunday. Those are the days most people tend to be at home— @koilarist's Vivica, the kids— and he tends to get up and make breakfast. It's not the only day he might, but Sunday is The Day for Dad Breakfast.
Perfect days are the nothing days where he's got time to mill around, kick the football around with the kids and saturate himself with Viv's presence. Maybe see his brother, his uncle and his aunt, his friends etc.
🥊 HAS YOUR CHARACTER EVER BEEN IN A FIGHT? DID THEY WIN? DO THEY FIGHT OFTEN? ARE THEY PROFESSIONALLY TRAINED OR SELF TAUGHT? DO THEY ENJOY FIGHTING OR ONLY DO SO WHEN NECESSARY?
He's prone to violence. Worse when he's younger, mellows as he gets older, but the itch never really goes away; the buttons that can be pressed change but the rote response never really disappears. He's 6'4" and well built— he wins most of his fights on the ground he's typically the largest and hits the hardest.
Self-taught and dragged up to scratch by the likes of Jen and Michael etc he's not professionally taught, but he's got enough knowledge and experience behind him to be a considerable threat. He's learned many things the hard way, but that doesn't mean he won't take the opportunity for a session in good old fashioned ultraviolence. It's enrichment.
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"Grandfather."
Ra's knew who the boy was the moment he'd snuck into the room. He'd allowed the child--more man than child now, but everyone was a child compared to him--moments to steel himself while Ra's refrained from acknowledging his presence. The boy's breath was barely audible but unsteady, and a drop of something fell to the floor.
His grandson was injured. "Danyal," he greeted and finally gazed upon him for the first time in seven years.
Danyal had grown into his father's height, yet stayed lean in regards to his musculature. His black hair had grown out of the League-regulation haircut, held back in a messy braid. He held himself as strong as he could, but kept an arm wrapped around his stomach. His shirt--standard American teenage garb, he dismissed--was spotted with blood and he could see bandages poking out from under the cloth.
With great care, Danyal knelt before the Demon Head and recited the Oath of Loyalty.
Ra's watched.
The boy's tongue, fat with English, spoke the League's variant of Arabic with the grace of a mace to the head, yet his words were clear. He took his time speaking the oath, carefully sounding out words, working hard to avoid mispronunciation. The Oath in question was the older version, from before Deathstroke's insurrection, but Danyal spoke it with a calm certainty that it would be accepted.
And without a doubt, it would be accepted.
Talia's eldest son had been born from her body instead of through science, a mistake that nearly cost her the child and damaged him upon birth. While the best doctors in the world saved his life, Danyal Al Ghul would always be weak in a fight, always prone to illness, always struggling to excel. When it became clear that the boy couldn't become the next Demon Head, Ra's sent Talia to create a replacement while arrangements were made for her first child to be taught business and science, for the betterment of the League. Danyal, very much his father's child, thrived in his intellectual pursuits while Damian grew and developed into a budding assassin.
But Danyal was more like his father than he'd ever knew. Ra's couldn't miss the signs of one of his family turning away from the League. Not the mission--Danyal had written several university level papers defending the environment by the time the boy was 10--but Ra's methods...
Ra's had a conundrum. Danyal was a dedicated conservationist; once the boy was an adult, Ra's was certain he'd take the world by storm and bring the League to new heights. But if he forced his methods onto Danyal, he could create an enemy of him, just as his father was.
Ra's gave Danyal an offer; Danyal would be allowed to leave the League and live a normal life if and only if he faked his own death in such a way that reinforced Damian's loyalty to the League of Assassins.
Danyal had been hesitant at first, but past his test with flying colors. Instigating one of the more unstable assassins into organizing a coup, cutting the insurgents off near immediately, but "dying" protecting both his younger brother and mother. It was a masterful performance. Even Talia hadn't known about the deceit.
And yet, here he was, on his knees, pledging loyalty. Danyal knew what that meant, knew what he was returning to, which morals he would be allowed to keep.
"And what do you bring with you, child of no one?" Why should the League accept the return of this child, who left once before?
Danyal met his eyes. "I bring with me, my team, who are loyal to me and me alone. I bring with me, research surrounding the Lazarus Pits, in origins and further uses for the waters." Ra's raised an eyebrow, and Danyal smirked. "I bring with me, my knowledge, nurtured within this very home and sharpened in the world outside. I bring with me, my weapons, built with my own hands. I bring with me... my body, finally healthy and whole." He brought his head down to the floor, trembling with pain. "I bring my whole self to the Demon's Head, for Him to accept or reject."
Ra's smiled. "By the shadows that guard our order and the blood that binds us, I accept this oath. From this day forward, you are an instrument of the League, a harbinger of justice, and a weapon in the hand of Ra's Al Ghul."
Danyal returned to his feet, swaying percariously. He needed immediate medical attention. Despite this, he continued, "Long live the League of Assassins. Long live Ra's Al Ghul."
And he collapsed onto the floor.
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offers Micky up on a silver platter for general shenaniganry, fallout or otherwise. Nev and him getting on like a house on fire especially amuses me greatly
• How would our OCs interact? • Micky and Nev
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Micky and Nev share that trait of being small and forever in trouble, albeit Micky is typically the one with his compass steering them into said trouble. Pint sized mischief is the name of the game; there is no shelf they cannot reach. Transformer Nev and Micky hours, she's standing on his shoulders to crawl through a vent so they can unlock a door that should, under no circumstances, be opened.
>Cuts to them running across the Mojave with stolen contraband. Likely being shot at. Arcade gets a headache somewhere; immediately knows that he's going to be patching somebody up over novelty goods. Again.
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