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vincememes · 2 years

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franz kafka starters

WARNINGS: MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, IMPLIED DEPRESSION feel free to adjust pronouns / names as needed !

❛ i am a cage, in search of a bird. ❜

❛ don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical. ❜

❛ don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. ❜

❛ follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly. ❜

❛ youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. ❜

❛ anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old. ❜

❛ i write differently from what i speak. ❜

❛ i speak differently from what i think. ❜

❛ i cannot make you understand. ❜

❛ i cannot even explain it to myself. ❜

❛ i cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. ❜

❛ a first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die. ❜

❛ the meaning of life is that it stops. ❜

❛ all language is but a poor translation. ❜

❛ remain sitting at your table and listen. ❜

❛ do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. ❜

❛ it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. ❜

❛ the nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. ❜

❛ slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life. ❜

❛ i have the true feeling of myself only when i am unbearably unhappy. ❜

❛ paths are made by walking. ❜

❛ i can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time. ❜

❛ it's because of their stupidity that they're able to be so sure of themselves. ❜

❛ there is an infinite amount of hope in the universe ... but not for us. ❜

❛ he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived. ❜

❛ i have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it. ❜

❛ i usually solve problems by letting them devour me. ❜

❛ i am in chains. don't touch my chains. ❜

❛ i never wish to be easily defined. ❜

❛ start with what is right rather than what is acceptable. ❜

❛ love is, that you are the knife which i plunge into myself. ❜

❛ i miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly. ❜

❛ now i can look at you in peace; i don't eat you any more. ❜

❛ better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have. ❜

❛ you are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart. ❜

❛ i’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap. ❜

❛ they say ignorance is bliss... they're wrong. ❜

❛ in man's struggle against the world, bet on the world. ❜

❛ in a way, you are poetry material. ❜

❛ you are full of cloudy subtleties i am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. ❜

❛ may i kiss you then? ❜

❛ you can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world. ❜

❛ that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature. ❜

❛ perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid. ❜

❛ beyond a certain point there is no return. this point has to be reached. ❜

❛ people label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. ❜

❛ i can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair'. ❜

❛ love is a drama of contradictions. ❜

❛ i'm even losing my name, it was getting shorter & shorter all the time & is now: yours ❜

❛ first impressions are always unreliable. ❜

❛ if i shall exist eternally, how shall i exist tomorrow? ❜

❛ evil is whatever distracts. ❜

❛ what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do i know of yours? ❜

❛ how about if i sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense? ❜

❛ kill me, or you are a murderer. ❜

❛ last night i dreamed about you. ❜

❛ what am i doing here in this endless winter? ❜

❛ if you become involved with me, you will be throwing yourself into the abyss. ❜

❛ my guiding principle is this: guilt is never to be doubted. ❜

❛ i am dirty, endlessly dirty, that is why i make such a fuss about cleanliness. ❜

❛ please — consider me a dream. ❜

❛ i can love only what i can place so high above me that i cannot reach it. ❜

❛ i’m doing badly, i’m doing well, whichever you prefer. ❜

❛ for myself i am too heavy, and for you too light. ❜

❛ it certainly was not my intention to make you suffer. ❜

❛ you can choose to be free , but it's last decision you'll ever make. ❜

❛ even if no salvation should come, i want to be worthy of it at every moment. ❜

❛ he was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone. ❜

❛ if i could drown in sleep as i drown in fear i would be no longer alive. ❜

❛ i lack nothing. i only needed myself. ❜

❛ i long for you; i who usually longs without longing, as though i am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy. ❜

❛ i really, utterly long for every bit of you. ❜

❛ even the merest gesture is holy if it is filled with faith. ❜

❛ you misinterpret everything, even the silence. ❜

❛ you must not pay too much attention to opinions. ❜

❛ i only fear danger where i want to fear it. ❜

❛ nor is it perhaps really love when i say that for me you are the most beloved. ❜

❛ in this love you are like a knife, with which i explore myself. ❜

❛ i like to make use of what i know ❜

#rp meme #rp ask meme #askbox meme #rp starter meme #rp starters #ask meme #poetry starters #poetry rp meme #s;; kafka.#ask starters #starter sentences #meme prompts #sentence prompts #rp sentence prompts #rp sentence meme #inbox meme

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f1nalboys · 3 years

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Backstage - Bday fic for Danny

HAPPY (very late im sorry) BDAY TO @knifewh0re !! I really hope you like this and i hope your birthday went well AND i hope today is even better!!!

Poly!Ghostface x Danny

WORD COUNT: 1978

WARNINGS: they/them pronouns afab reader (which is danny), oral (amab and afab recieving), vaginal fingering, implication of more sex, semi-public sex, closet sex, time crunch, the boys aren’t mean in this one besides like two off-hand comments from billy

Billy and Stu stood backstage before the show searching for you. Stu was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Stu, man, relax. You’re getting on my nerves.” Stu pouts and opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He elbows Billy in the side harshly, pointing down the crowded hallway. Billy cranes his neck and breaks out into a grin.

It was you. You were surrounded by your band, decked out in your stage outfit and laughing and god you looked beautiful. Billy didn’t wait for Stu and took off down the hallway, his heart beating. You went to college with them, actually had a class with Billy, but you didn’t know them. They knew you, obviously.

Your band was getting popular in the punk scene and Stu had seen you play live a few months ago and immediately fell in love with your voice. He forced Billy to listen and, even though punk wasn’t his most loved genre, he had to admit that you were fucking amazing. And now they were here. Stu had bought backstage passes for the show and told Billy that they had to talk to you.

“Danny!” You turn around at the sound of your name with your eyebrows furrowed. Stu had caught up to Billy and had a big smile on his face, waving you over. Even though you didn’t know the two of them you went over, their smiles and the blush creeping up the neck of the brown haired boy made you curious.

“Uhm, hey. You two know me?”

“Yeah! We actually go to school with you, Billy here’s in your Intro to Film History class with you,” Stu says, nudging Billy towards you with his elbow. Billy forces a smile, his heart beating fast when you smile back. “And we happen to be huge fans of yours.”

You grin, turning around and waving off your band member, asking them to give you a few minutes. “Sorry about that. We have like half an hour before the show starts. So, you go to school with me? How come I’ve never seen you two around before? Think I would’ve noticed two cute guys.”

Stu lets out a high pitched nervous laugh, punching Billy on the shoulder hard. He was fucking star struck at this point. “Cute? You think we’re cute?” He says with a grin that only grows when you nod. They were cute! Stu was wearing a button up shirt and a denim jacket - which Billy had bought him specially for this - and Billy wore a tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“I’m Billy, that’s Stu. And you’re Danny, right?”

“Sure am. So, any reason you two came out here to see us play?” Billy’s eyebrow raises. He could have sworn you were flirting with them. Stu seems to think the same thing because he makes a small choked noise which makes you laugh, hard.

Stu shrugs, deciding now is the perfect time to start acting more suave. “We wanted to wish you luck before the show. With words or actions, whichever you’d prefer.” If Billy weren’t hoping you’d say yes he would have turned around and punched Stu as hard as he possibly could for being so god damn forward.

“I mean, I could definitely go for some physical encouragement. You two think you could make it quick?”

“Wait, really?” Stu was actually pretty shocked you were agreeing. He was happy, like, REALLY happy, but he was still shocked. You nod and Billy takes a hold of your hand and drags you down the hallway. He wanted to find somewhere that the three of you wouldn’t be interrupted.

You stop him halfway down the hallway and pull him into a dark room, flipping the light on when Stu comes in behind you both. It was a supply closet, a fairly large one, and Stu locks the door behind him as Billy pulls you in for a kiss.

“Wait, wait, no,” You say, pushing away from him. He gives you a confused look, worried he had gone too fast too soon. “Can’t kiss; can’t fuck my stage makeup up.” He snorts, deciding to kiss your neck instead. Stu’s behind you, the two men trapping you in between their bodies.

Stu replaces Billy’s lips on your neck, nipping at your pulse and grinning against your skin when you moan. Billy is on his knees, working on getting your pants off. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he yanks your jeans down and you hiss, goosebumps raising down your legs.

Your head rolls back against Stu’s shoulder as his hands slip up your shirt and past your bra, his fingers finding your nipples with ease. Billy groans as his finger dips past your underwear, gliding down your folds. “Fuck, Stu, man, they’re soaked.”

“Are they now? You into us or something, baby?” He coos into your ear, pinching at your nipple hard and you whimper loudly. Stu laughs, his breath hot against your skin, as Billy’s fingers begin to rub circles on your clit. You’re bucking into his fingers and you let out a particularly loud moan when he moves his hand off of you.

Your eyes pop open and Billy is right in your face, shoving his fingers, wet with your arousal, in your mouth. Stu grabs the bottom of your shirt and yanks it up, slipping it off of your body with ease. “Think you could use your mouth for something else?” Stu asks with a wicked grin. Rolling your eyes, you don’t take long to debate, sinking down onto your knees.

“Can’t do it for long, boys. Got twenty minutes before I need to be out there, so you better get to it.” Stu’s pants and underwear are long gone now and he’s fisting his cock right in front of you with an eager look in his eyes. You smile, replacing his hand with your own, and licking a long stripe up the underside of his dick.

His head rolls back and he lets out a low moan as your tongue swirls over his tip. “Fuuuck, Danny…” He goes to put his hand on the back of your head, wanting to force you to take him to the hilt, but he stops himself by grabbing ahold of Billy’s shoulder. “Their mouth, man. Shit, could make me cum already.”

Billy’s hand was on his own cock and he was focused on your face. You never took Stu in your mouth fully, never moving past wrapping your lips around the tip of him, and somehow he could tell it was the best blowjob Stu’s probably ever gotten. Save for him, of course. “Wanna feel that mouth of yours,” He says and you pop off of Stu, a glob of spit connecting you to him. “Can we fuck you?”

You hesitate before your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly. “God, I wish. Like, you have no fucking idea how badly I want you two, but we have less than 15 minutes and if we do it I want it to last longer than that. How bout I help you two out and you help me?” Without waiting for an answer you repeat what you had just done to Stu.

“Holy shit,” He groans. He can’t take his eyes off of you or your hands or your lips. Everything about you was intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, hollowing your lips when you take him into your mouth. “Christ, Danny, your mouth feels so fucking good. Such a good whore for us.”

You moan around him and he gasps, barely stopping himself from slamming his hips further down your throat. Stu was jerking off next to him, eyes trained on you, and he threw his head back, calling your name. “Danny, fuck, gonna cum. Where, shit! Where can I?”

Pulling off of Billy you flash the two of them a wide smile and respond simply. “On each other.”

“Huh?” Stu’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly, his hand pausing in it’s movements. You lick your lips and they watch with wide eyes as your hand reaches down and slips past your underwear. Your eyes flutter closed, soft moans leaving your lips. Music to their ears.

“I, mmh. I said cum on each other, god, and then you can taste me.” That’s all the encouragement they needed. They turned towards each other but kept their eyes on you, the sounds of your pleasure mixing with their own. Billy was chasing his high, the thought of being able to delve into your cunt sending shockwaves through his body.

Stu is the first one to cum, both your name and Billy’s falling from his lips as he thrusts into his hand. His cum coats Billy’s thighs and hands, adding to the slick of his own cock. Billy cums soon after and Stu takes a second to get on his knees and takes his dick into his mouth, taking him to the base. What can he say, he loved Billy’s dick.

“Fuck, that was hot,” You whimper, your eyes moving in time with the bob of Stu’s head. “Hurry up and eat me out, you got ten minutes. If you do good, maybe I’ll consider making this a regular thing.” Billy’s on his knees in a second, throwing your hand off of yourself and pushing you back onto your ass. You yelp as the concrete digs into your skin but the pain is quickly washed away, taken over by the pleasure of his tongue dipping through your folds.

He’s moaning at the taste of you, his hands grabbing your thighs and spreading you wider, opening you up for him. His tongue focuses on your clit, switching between circling it to flicking it with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it every few seconds. Your hand tangles in his hair and you’re grinding down on his face when Stu’s fingers enter you.

He starts up a fast pace with two fingers, filling you so suddenly all you can do is cry out his name and roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Fuck! Please, shit, you both feel so good. Please, I’m close, please let me, please make me,” Your pleas’ urge them onwards, Stu’s fingers and Billy’s tongue speeding up.

You cum hard, harder than you have in the past from just oral, and your body is convulsing with pleasure as they continue. They don’t stop until you practically collapse against the floor and even then Stu takes his chance to lick up your cunt, tasting you. “Mmm, you taste fucking delicious, babe.”

“You alright, Danny? We didn’t kill you, did we?” Billy asks and even with your eyes closed you know he’s smiling. You nod, take a deep breath, and stand up, your knees weak. Stu wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck while Billy helps you pull your pants back up, buttoning them up before kissing you on the lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

Stu opens the door and peeks out, looking both ways before ushering the two of you outside. Billy runs a hand down your cheek, down your neck, and he tsks at the dark marks that were forming. “Stu! Asshole, you left hickies like a 15 year old.”

“They look hot with them!” He replies, giving you another sloppy kiss on the neck, and you laugh. You shove him off of you, brushing your clothes off and looking at them with a grin.

“So… you guys staying after the show? I’d love to show you the green room.”

Billy grins, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, eyes dragging down your body. “For you? Hell yeah, we are. Can’t wait to see how hot you look with that makeup of yours running.”

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Korekiyo Shinguuji x oblivious crush reader - short imagine

Request: could i request some headcanons or an imagine (whichever you prefer, i’m not picky lol) for Korekiyo with a crush on an incredibly oblivious female reader who never realizes he’s trying to flirt with her/trying to see if she likes him back? sorry if this is a weird request haha :,)

THIS ISN’T A WEIRD REQUEST, KIYO IS MY BABY DADDY. Also you requested female reader, but I wrote this with a female in mind and then realized I never used any feminine-assigned words or pronouns in here, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Warnings: PG-13 in terms of sexual/romantic scenarios and wording

“So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

“Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

“Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

“Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

“...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

“Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

“Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

“Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

“Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

“N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

“We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

“I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

“Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

“Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

“So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

“Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

“Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

“Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

“Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

“But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

“...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

“Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

“Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

“Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

“Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

“Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.

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marai-posts · 4 years

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Speaking of bad LGBTQ+ writing:

I WANNA TALK ABOUT NAOTO

Also Spoiler Warning

Now let me make myself clear,

If you enjoy thinking of Naoto in her canon writing in which her desire towards masculinity is fueled by an oppressive work place and extreme prejudice toward females in said workplace then You Are So Valid And Respected, that's not what this is about.

Because prejudice towards females in a work setting is a Real Thing and shouldn't be glossed over EVER. Respect Women Guys.

And if you enjoy seeing Naoto as a trans man who simply didn't have the means to understand himself and work through his issues in a healthy manner because of Inaba's clear prejudice, and a general lack of knowledge of LGBT+ people as a whole, You Are Also Super Valid And Respected.

I actually enjoy the point of their character, which calls out workplace sexism as inherently bad, unfair, and hurtful.

Cause it is, let's be real. All humans are equal in birth no matter their race, gender, or sexual preferences. We Are All Human.

I also understand that this game was made a while ago when LGBT+ representation was super taboo and rare but-

AS A TRANS MAN MYSELF-

God I Wish Naoto Was Written Trans

So before I go on my rant, I want to just say, no matter your opinion of this topic, no matter your preference or if you use them as a coping mechanism either way:

You Are Valid. You are understood.

When I think about people arguing over them I get upset because I'm someone who chooses to think in terms of humanity and respect. If people didn't have different opinions and interests, society would be unable to progress. Fighting over opinions starts wars, it inspires violence and hurt, and is just not worth the pain it causes.

Debates are necessary. Fighting is not.

If two people see the same characters in a completely different light, that shouldn't be a problem. Each person should take from Naoto what they need for emotional comfort. If you've struggled with sexism, I support you. If you're trans too, I support you. If you're in neither category's and simply love them devoid of personal projection, I support you.

Because in the end, it's just a game.

And they are a character.

And Living Breathing Humans should never be at each others throats over a character.

Instead if you love Naoto as a girl, and another person loves Naoto as a guy, you both love Naoto and are in agreement that they are a lovely person. No matter what they would choose as a gender identity.

Hell, they could be gender fluid.

Now that I've expressed how I feel about the debate over trans Naoto, I'll say my own personal opinion devoid of judgement for those who see them differently. All headcanons and real canon can coexist peacefully. That is the beauty of fiction.

Now:

I see Naoto as a trans male, so while I write I'll be using he/him, but whichever pronouns you use is Good. These are just my personal headcanons and opinions and yours are just as important and worthy. I Respect You.

Now then, I see him like this because:

The few times I've personally seen a character outwardly show themselves as a different gender it's usually either crossdressing, or rooted in insecurity. Like Naoto, or even Chihiro from Danganronpa. And that's,, kinda upsetting. It suggests that trans people are just insecure, or that they need a 'reason' to be trans. Which is probably how some working on the game viewed being trans. But this is a product of prejudice and uneducation, and is untrue.

I'd really like more canon trans characters.

Properly written trans characters, of course. With actual information on real trans individuals and their experiences and struggles, that came from trans people.

The trans characters out there now are very important and I hope to see more of them! Represention is important to progress.

Now this is what I would of liked to see:

I think after the 'Naoto is biologically female' reveal, when he starts going by she/her and letting people refer to him as a girl, I think he should of realized it causes him discomfort.

Let him become uncomfortable when people desire femininity from him. Let him realize that it hurts when people call him 'her'. Let him try wearing female clothing again and realizing he feels super gross in them.

Let him talk to Yu about how he doesn't understand why he still feels this way. Let Yu suggest that maybe he doesn't like others perceiving him as female. Let them discuss it properly and let Yu offer him unconditional support because they're close and Yu is a good dude and is the kind of person who values his connections to other people no matter if he can relate and personally understand or not, proven several times not only in-game but in spin off's as well.

Let them talk to the others about it, let them all support his decision because they all love him regardless. Let them all make an Active Effort to call him he/him and refer to him as a guy because they see the way his face lights up when they do and They Care A Lot.

Let him and Kanji have a discussion about their experiences and support each other because Kanji liked him despite his gender and that hasn't changed in the slightest.

Let him find happiness as a male without seeing in a necessity to his job. Let him dress the way he wants because it makes him happy, not because of other people.

Let Him Simply Be Trans.

#persona 4 #persona 4 spoilers #naoto shirogane #trans naoto

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wri0thesley · 4 years

Note

Oh it’s so good to see you back here! I love all of your content so I’m super excited to see what you end up writing! Can I request a scenario or headcanons, whichever you prefer, for Erina domming Jonathan and reader? For a Halloween twist maybe it’s vampire erina and mortal jojo and reader ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Happy monsterfucker season!

i am simply gay for beautiful vampire ladies

social call - vampire!erina x fem!reader x (and jonathan but only kind of tbh)

afab reader, fem pronouns - blood warning.

Erina Pendleton was beautiful, charming, demure - and by all accounts, utterly in love with her husband, Jonathan Joestar. Since their marriage, seeing her in society was a rare occasion - before, she had often arrived late into the night and shyly rejected most advances, but with Jonathan Joestar by her side her shyness seemed to have simply multiplied. She occasionally drew you to her breast and asked, her blue eyes wide and round and beseeching, about what she had missed in the last few society parties - but as a whole, Erina was rather a lonely type, although seeing her large husband by her side was the norm instead of the exception.

Even though she had made her match (and made it well), whispers still abound about how beautiful she was. The abundance of golden hair and the big eyes and the creamy pale skin, unmarked by even the slightest blemish - the delicate way she held herself and the graceful movements of her walk, like that of a ballet dancer. You would be a fool if you did not admit to yourself that you, too, had spent many nights imagining what her skin would taste like against your lips and how soft her hair might feel unbound as it tickled your cheeks as you kissed her. You would be a fool, too, if you did not admit that her husband awakened just as much of a desire in you as Erina herself did - still, they seemed deliriously happy (if reserved), and you tried to fight back your desires for them until you were alone and could keep your whirring brain happy with fantasies you never expected to be made flesh.

You had been surprised by the invitation to spend a weekend with them in their palatial manner - although when you arrived in the dark evening light, Erina had been gracious and lovely (if apologetic that perhaps their staff were not what you were used to; you had found it a little odd how small their household seemed to be, but Erina you knew came from slightly less aristocratic stock and you had felt it crude to comment upon). You had been even more surprised as attention had been lavished upon you, not merely by Erina herself but by her husband - you were quite used to men who left ladies to their own devices in the parlour.

None of these small surprises, though, had meant anything when Erina had pressed her cool cheek against yours and you’d felt her pretty mouth curl into a smile and she had professed that she had rather an … indecent proposal for you, if you’d be willing to indulge her. She had listened, kindly, to your embarrassed protestations - gently telling you she had seen the way you looked at her and her husband. Fingers gently dancing across your collarbones as she whispered that your form was hardly displeasing to her or Jonathan, either. Mouth soft again as she kissed cool lines over your throat and assured you that nothing you or she or Jonathan did behind these walls would ever need to be confessed to anyone else, as long as you were willing to cradle one of her own secrets close to your chest–

And so, you had found yourselves in the bedchamber of the Joestar couple.

And so, you had watched - fascinated, your body thrumming in need - as Jonathan had inclined his head for his beautiful wife, as she had softly sunk fangs into yielding flesh, as the man’s eyes had flutter closed and he’d sighed a soft sigh as blood had stained Erina’s lovely mouth (already so red) - as she’d pulled back, coy smile on her lips and murmured;

“Would you mind? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

You do not know how truthful her promise may be - all you can think about is the skin on display in her low-cut gown, the way her lips and eyes glitter wickledy in the low light, those late nights spent fantasising about her or her husband - and you’re soft and respectful as you kneel before her on the bed and her cool fingertips trail over bare skin.

“Oh, you’re darling,” she says, as soft as waves lapping against a sandy shore. “Isn’t she darling, Jojo?”

Her husband, still dazed, murmurs his assent and she laughs, softly - before she gathers your chin in her hand and pulls you close to her. Her lips are still wet with blood as she kisses you, but that’s unimportant against how soft and cool and pliant her mouth is against yours, how fangs nip softly at your lower lip so your moan is transferred into her mouth. Her tongue is just as cool as it swipes over your tongue, playfully begging you to kiss her back - and you are helpless, helpless, helpless to do anything but that. She pulls back from you, smiling, cooing softly;

“Such a good girl,” she whispers. “I’ll reward you for that, I promise.”

She makes good on that, and you’re softly lowered onto the bedcovers. Erina’s fingers are soft as she trails them up your thighs, ruching skirts and petticoats about your hips, leaving bloodstained kisses across your skin.

“Jojo,” she says, and from her tone it’s abundantly clear who is in charge of the relationship. “Help me with her dress, won’t you?”

Jonathan walks slowly, his eyes fixed on Erina - but he still looks at you before he lays either of his big hands on you.

“Is it alright?” He murmurs, quietly. Erina laughs softly, turning her attention briefly to press a kiss onto his cheek. Both of them are so beautiful - but Jonathan’s hands, hovering over you, are warm where Erina’s are cold.

“You’re not doing what I told you to,” Erina says, playfully, and one of her fingers trails over your thigh to rest casually between the softness of your legs, the coldness barely registering because the space between them is so hot and needy and damp with your own desire. “She already said, and she wants this–”

“Please,” you breathe out, and Erina smiles, leaning down and brushing her lips against yours again.

“See?” She says to her husband, and Jonathan’s hands are surprisingly nimble for such a big man as lacings and buttons and all of the various fripperies of gowns are untangled and undone, and fabric is being pulled from your body. The room is just as cold as Erina herself, but your body is running too hot with how much you are wanting to feel much of a chill. “Look how beautiful she is, Jojo–”

“Mm,” says Jonathan, and his smile when he looks at you is soft and earnest like that of a puppy dog. Your fears - what little of them managed to survive past the burning need for Erina to touch you - subside into nothing as Erina parts your thighs, shooing her husband out of the way so she can kneel between them. You look at her and your heart skips a beat - she is so beautiful like this.

All of those fantasies of hair spilling over her creamy shoulders and her glittering eyes come true all at once as she lowers her full lips down, pressing soft kisses along the meat of your thighs. Her breath (cold) fans against your sex and you find yourself squirming even as Jonathan comes up behind you, gently holding your hips in place and leaning over you.

“Good boy, Jojo,” she murmurs approvingly, and the vibration of her low voice makes you want to squirm even more although you know Jonathan is there to stop you. “You’ll get a good view, at least–”

“Any view with you is a good one,” he intones, and she laughs again - but before you can react to that her mouth and tongue are upon you and there is nothing you can do but clutch at silken bedsheets as the muscle works over your aching heat, toying with your clit and circling your entrance. You cry up into the ceiling and Jonathan does not even make an attempt to make you hush, merely murmurs; “She likes it when you let her know she’s doing a good job.”

Oh, she is very much doing that. She licks and sucks and grazes her teeth against you like a starving woman savouring her last meal, lapping at your slick like it’s fine wine. The tip of her neat pink tongue traces your entrance, thrusting in and out of it a few times, the sensitive opening practically clamping around her like a vice.

There is nothing in the room but your own whimpers and gasps and the lewd noises of Erina’s mouth on your most private parts, your thighs pillowing her head (her golden hair brushes against them as you’d always imagined they would) - occasionally, dark blue eyes gaze at you over your body with dark-fringed lashes and you feel another bolt of arousal all through you at just who it is currently between your thighs.

Your hips begin to jerk more and more erratically, a tight, hot ball of tension in your stomach threatening to come undone - and then, Erina pulls her mouth away (the blood and your slickness have mixed together and made quite a mess of her face, though even the mess looks beautiful on her) and you cannot help but let out a petulant moan as the peak which had felt so close is snatched from you with moments to spare.

She laughs like a bell, pulling herself further up on the bed, pulling up her own skirts so silken stockinged legs rub luxoriously against your skin.

“Don’t pout so, darling girl,” she says to you, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. “I won’t leave you wanting, I promise. Jojo?” Her husband pulls back from you, his face flushed at watching you and his wife, his manner utterly respectful and bashful. “Take off my dress for me, won’t you? I feel rather overdressed.”

He is even quicker with hers - and you cannot help the greedy way your eyes rove over her body, as lovely and delicate and unmarked as you’d secretly always imagined it would be. Your eyes are hungry as they look at her, but all she does is laugh and pat your cheek, sliding her newly bared thigh to grind against the soaking wet place between your thighs.

“You like what you see?” She murmurs. “I’ve had no complaints, but you make me feel even lovelier, looking at me like that–”

“How could anyone not?” You breathe out, and she giggles softly. She kisses you on the mouth once more and you cannot care about the taste of yourself on her lips - not when she kisses you so hungrily.

“You’re charming,” she says to you. “I’m afraid I, though, am going to be wicked.”

Fingers trail over your throat and you realise what she wants and, without even the briefest lucid moment of fear, you tip your head to the side so she’s able to get to your neck. She coos at you in delight as she lowers her mouth, kissing and sucking and licking at the flesh there. You are all prepared for the sting of her fangs sliding into your tender skin–

But first to make you sigh is cold fingertips between you and her, sliding inside of you, thumb neatly grinding circles into your clit as Erina’s clever movements work up a fire in you that you had feared she would leave unstoked. Your thighs tremble and shake as her fingers work their magic, circling and stretching, toying with your clit until–

The ball of tension seems to come apart all at once.

Stars explode behind your vision. Your back arches, body moving beneath hers, at the same time as you feel the sting of something sharp and piercing sink into your soft flesh and you come hard at the same time as she feeds from you, rhythmically sucking at your puncture wounds as her clever fingers gently coax you over the final aftershocks and peaks of your orgasm.

Later on that weekend, undressed, draped over Erina’s lap as her fingers delve in and out of you lazily and Jonathan hands her a neat white lace handkerchief to dab at the puncture wounds marring your breast, she murmurs;

“Shall you visit us again, dearheart?”

You have never agreed to a social call as fast in your life.

#Anonymous #jjba #not sfw #erina pendleton #jonathan joestar #vampires #blood for ts #afab reader #fem pronouns

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writersblockandapotoftea · 4 years

Text

Worldbuilding Post

DWARVES

Dwarves are an agender and asexual humanoid species that frequent the caves and mountains on both continents of Unitien. They are divided into two species, modern and elder. While elder dwarves are largely thought to be extinct, modern dwarves ascribe many of their culture and lifestyles to them, including their love of trap making, forging and their luscious beards.

Now, before delving into Dwarves and their culture, one must learn about Dostine, the goddess of dwarves, tricksters and blacksmiths. She is known by dwarves as All-Creator and creates the dwarves in a secret ceremony that follows the specifications of this poem.

One dwarf is forged of gold, Two are of molten steel and bronze Three from the bones of old The last four are the best, Made from silver and all the rest.

Dostine loves all of her children dearly and the ceremony is preformed every fifty years or so, meaning that there are twenty new dwarves every century. No human, elf or dragon has ever seen it. She also gifted the dwarves with the four massive interconnecting tunnels that allow them to go to whichever part of the world they so please, meaning there are modern dwarves on both continents and in the southern straights, all with their own unique quirks.

Straitien Dwarves ride jewelled spiders, which are blue and white spiders that allow them to climb all over the cliffs and avoid predators. There's even a contest where they joust across the canyon on a massive spiderweb. They also are less likely to wear heavy clothing as they live in a jungle, so it's not unexpected to see a dwarf wearing nothing but a loin cloth around humans, then nothing in the jungle.

Eastern Dwarves are the dwarves who occupy the Barliosian Empire. They are more adapted to cold weather and take great pride in their workmanship as where they live is full of iron and other ores.

Western Dwarves don't live underground, rather in massive pyramids built overtop of over-mined quarries. They have darker skin and coarser hair to deal with the sand in their local environment. They like roasting camels over massive fires for food.

Modern dwarves are a welcome and frequent sight in the human cities and towns wherever they are found, acting as blacksmiths, miners, and small business owners. Dwarves are easily differentiated from normal humans by their thick beards, small stature, unique forging abilities and ability to consume anything poisonous with no repercussions.

No one quite knows why modern dwarves and humans get along so well, as elder dwarves and humans often fought bitterly, but where there are dwarves in a community, they are well beloved. Even in the dwarven settlements deep in the mountains, there is usually at least one human. This is because of the dwarven tendency to adopt children from other races, as they cannot have their own. These adopted children are well cared for and are given the nickname of switchers, as the dwarves often rescue them from unhappy homes, leaving cursed jewels in the crib of the adopted child. Other switchers are left at the doors of Mountain keeps to be found by dwarves in times of famine. While many humans view them all as male due to their beards, all dwarves have no notion of gender in the sense that humans and elves do. They view everyone as equals and organize their society in terms of what needs to happen for everyone to thrive.

Domas: This rank means parent and can be held by anyone with a youngling. They raise and protect their youngling or switcher and teach them the tools of their trade and when the youngling is old enough; they send them to find their own cave, usually nearby so they can maintain their lifelong bond.

Trapmasters: These are the masters of the forge. They craft armour so light that it feels like a woollen coat and shields so strong they protect you from a dragon's breath. Every dwarf practices for years hoping to become a trapmaster. However, as they can only be appointed by Dostine, the goddess of dwarves, there are only two remaining in the world.

Carvers: These fine folk spend their days in pursuit of the true beauty of stone and crystals. They polish, whittle and crack these into beautiful works of art and sculptures. The most talented of them can turn jewels into windows that never crack and reflect light in a thousand different patterns. They tend to never become domas, instead recruiting younglings from larger families. Forgers: These are the dwarves that go out into the larger world. They are talented, hardworking and make things of a much higher quality than human smiths could ever dream. These dwarves are accompanied by switchers because it is an innate dwarven instinct to see a child in need and adopte them.

Miners: These are the ones who are pulled down, down, down into the darkness by some unknown voice. They dig and dig and they have no idea of what they're about to find. They come up with gold and jewels and iron and go back down again. They are probably the strongest of dwarves and are also the warrior class of modern dwarves.

Prayerhands; These are the holy and scholars people of modern dwarves! They are also in charge of dwarven funds, acting as treasurers and conducting official business with human officials. They dress in all grey and shave their beards in reverence to Dostine, who has no beard and are frequently referred to as women by humans. Do not do this. Please ask what their preferred pronouns are. Your head will remain in place for much longer if you do.

Humans and modern dwarves have fairly stable relations, with the humans exchanging gold and silver for various services. However, some concepts that humans have are completely alien to dwarves. These include the concept of drunkenness, as dwarves cannot get drunk as their livers process alcohol inhumanly fast. Other concepts include the idea of marriage, sexual attraction and gender; however, they do understand aesthetic attractions.

If you have stuck with me for this long, congratulations, you have more patience than my younger brother.

We're finally entering the mysterious world of the Elder Dwarves; strange creatures with six arms, thick beards and more talent for forging than all the trapmasters combined. Elder dwarves are currently thought to be extinct, although some trolls claim to have seen them in the deepest caverns.

Thought to be greedy, always hungry and quite mean, Elder Dwarves were considered monsters by trolls, humans and elves, and frequently clashed with them in territorial disputes before sealing off their caves and tunnels for nine centuries, before modern dwarves appeared and began to make ammends. (Modern dwarves argue this point quite fiercely, pointing to the evidence that Elder dwarves had closely knit communities and largely fungus-based diets, like their own) They had their own language, the ability to stick to walls and were terrifyingly quick on their feet. The things they created that were found by humans gave rise to energy-storing crystals, zeppelins, clocks, ballistas, and even the system Epidamnos uses to keep the ocean from destroying it every stormy season.

The few Elder Dwarven caverns that are accessible by modern dwarves are called Pitches and are filled with bones, artifacts that glow with malicious energies and lava pools. Many Prayerhands believe that Elder dwarves bathed in the lava and it was actually an important part of their forging process, as the writings that are translated describe them being friends with a mostly extinct species of dragon, the Earthshaker dragons, who spewed lava so hot that even the gods were fearful of angering one. How the Elder Dwarves managed this, no one is sure. One theory thinks that they watched over the hatchlings, keeping them safe from hungry demons and greedy monster hunters that came from the surface looking for an easy kill. Earthshaker dragons are blind until they reach adolescence so having the dwarves to protect them while providing them with the lava they needed would form an inevitable symbiotic relationship that benefited both parties.

It is unknown why elder dwarves had six arms and modern dwarves only have two. Humans assume it's because dwarves needed to assimilate better to human culture or risk extinction, but dwarves aren't sure, as some dwarves are born with four arms to this day. They tend to become miners, as the extra limbs make it much easier to fight and mine at the same time. Some believe that Dostine merely decided that she didn't like making the extra bones and gradually shifted. Others think that as the dwarves moved back to the surface, the terrain became easier and there were less demons to fight, they simply didn't need them anymore, and so Dostine removed them.

Another key difference between Elder and Modern Dwarves is that while Modern Dwarves are agender and asexual, Elder Dwarves enjoyed representing themselves in various genders unrecognizable to humans and made a wild array of jewelry and combs. The jewelry currently found is mostly bracelets that jangle in a pleasing way. With all their arms decorated, they would have been able to compose entire rhythms with their bracelets. Certain bracelets seemed to be reserved for certain people, with one half of all bones found wearing bracelets of pure ruby, with the other half wearing bracelets of amethyst.

However, bones from Elders are incredibly rare because, as stated in the poem above, Dostine enjoys recycling and most of what is known about Elder Dwarves is patched together from paintings, frescos and a few pieces of jewelry found in Pitches. Perhaps if modern dwarves dig deep enough, they will find their answers, and maybe even some old friends.

#my writing #my worldbuilding #fantasy #dwarves #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding

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mystery-salad · 5 years

Note

WELL ... u said u have 38 kiddos and theres 26 letters in the alphabet soooo because i'm extra and love reading about them i think u should do one letter for 26 characters of ur choosing (as long as u choose tvelle for one of them) :-) Don't have to do all the questions for each letter, just whichever excites you most!!

Well…THIS is going under a cut for sure lol, that’s gonna be a long-ass post! I’ll try to include pictures of everyone I choose since I know y’all haven’t seen all my kiddos. Instead of answering one letter for 26 kids, I answered all 26 letters for one kid each! Same number of answers, but a little more variety~

TAOMESIN

A: Aptitude

1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

They’re naturally nimble and light on their feet, very manoeuvrable and can get to just about wherever they want to!

2. what activities have they participated in?

They used to love holiday activities so much~

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

They have worked hard to become a phenomenal sniper so that they can also attack from afar instead of only using close combat.

4. what things are they bad at?

Social interactions and caring

5. what is their most impressive talent?

Their ability to react fast in battle even if things have gone disastrously. They’re incredibly logical and level-headed.

RIEFT

B: Basics

1. what is their hair color?

Light, vibrant green!

2. what is their eye color?

It varies from gold to emerald, colorful flecks and streaks everywhere~

3. how tall are they?

5′8″

4. how old are they?

To current day, she’s 7 years old!

5. how much do they weigh?

Roughly 150 lb

MINT (on the left)

C: Comfort

1. how do they sit in a chair?

They like to curl up with their legs pulled close, nestled as far back as they can be!

2. in what position do they sleep?

Curled up tight, preferably with Azin’s arms around him while they hold onto him.

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

A day where Azin is home all day from work so that the two can simply cuddle and be together while they relax~

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

They love ice cream, the cold numbing feeling inside their body is actually very nice and welcome to them on some level.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

Azin is the only one who can comfort them at all.

BODACC

D: Decoration

1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name?

It’d be a mess, scattered parts all over the place, mid-build machines sitting on every elevated surface! Lots of benches and tabls, a couple cleared off for guests but ultimately it’d look like a workshop.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room?

She’d never have a child, but if she were to decorate a child’s room she’d fill it with small animatronic toys and puzzles to ensure the child stays thoroughly entertained!

3. how do they decorate their own room?

It’s overcrowded with nicknacks and spare parts she accidentally carried to her room when tired. The bed is constantly messy and she curls up in a next of blankets and pillows in the center of her mattress.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear?

Lots of tight clothing that can’t snag easily on tools or gears. She’s really fond of pink so a lot of her clothes are in pink tones. She tries to dress nicely to impress other asuras.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

Nope! No makeup or beauty trends for her, it’d just get messed up from her work within the first hour anyways.

TVELLE

E: External Personality

1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

Absolutely! She’s eager and so enthusiastic and excited, she’s constantly bouncing around or hanging off of her friends talking about things excitedly.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm?

Not by asuran standards for sure! She holds no concept of superiority over others, doesn’t particularly care for traditional learning or sitting at a desk or in a workshop for any amount of time.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

Definitely does her own thing! Whatever makes her happy is good, and she doesn’t really care if it’s not on trend or fashionable.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

She’s not at all, though the younger recruits she trains sometimes try to catch her up on the fads around Tyria. She good-naturedly pays attention when they all tell her something at least.

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

She’s very outward in her personality, what you see is 100% what you get with her. It throws most people for a loop at first, a lot of people think she might tone down more if you get to know her better, but nope! She’s just genuinely that exuberant.

IMEKAARI

F: Fun

1. what do they do for fun?

All sorts of things! Go out to explore the town, meet new people, invite a friend to a new restaurant, learn a new hobby, relax at home with a good book, etc…he really enjoys getting the most out of life.

2. what is their ideal party?

Lots of new people to talk to, well lit and music’s quiet enough to hold casual conversation. Good food, good drinks, and of course a nice place for games or dancing if it comes up!

3. who would they have the most fun with?

He has the most fun with his three closest friends: Io, Lace, and Trahearne!

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

Yup, he’s actually very on top of following rules himself, but he’s having a grand time!

5. do they go out a lot?

All the time! Whenever he has a break from work in a new location, he goes out at least a few times to explore. He also tries to get the others to go out more by inviting them places with him.

KVOLD

G: Gorgeous

1. what is their most attractive external feature?

He has gorgeous eyes, a deep blue brimming with excitement!

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

He loves playing around with others and goofing off~

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

You’ll always have someone excited to hang out with you anywhere you want to go!

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

He likes his hair a lot, he missed it dearly when it grew in as vines while he was stressed. Since it’s grown soft and leafy again he’s worn it differently every day!

He doesn’t like how he seems so naive to people, he knows he can handle himself really when it comes to anything except the Court.

5. what parts of others do they envy?

He envies that others had the chance to grow up normally.

CHERIE

H: Heat

1. do they rather a hot or cold room?

He likes it warm!

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

Prefers summer, but winter snowball fights and hot drinks are delightful~

3. do they like the snow?

Yes!!! He was so excited the first time he saw it.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity?

He loves beach parties or hiking!

5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

Snowball fights!!!

AQUN

I: In-the-closet

1. what is their sexuality?

She’s pan, but leans more towards girls

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality?

Nope, she was pretty confident from the start!

3. have they ever questioned their gender?

She did for a while wonder if she was a different gender, but after a year or two of exploring she settled back to female pronouns.

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT?

Her family supports her but really hopes she at least adopts a child to carry on the family name.

5. how long would/did it take for them to come out?

She never made a big announcement, and doesn’t care to. Those who would need to know already do.

TOJOLL

J: Joy

1. what makes them happy?

She loves the thrill of adventure, and a good beach party!

2. who makes them happy?

Her girlfriends do

3. are there any songs that bring them joy?

She loves good bar songs about victories in battle

4. are they happy often?

Almost all the time, she’s doing very well!

5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

Hanging out with her girlfriends

ILLIADDE

K: Kill

1. have they ever thought about suicide?

Yes, she’s thought of it several times but has about as much reason to kill herself as to not. Meaning none.

2. have they ever thought about homicide?

She’s committed homicide many times and will many more times, without so much as a thought one way or the other.

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who?

Lace

4. who would miss them if they died?

Strair

5. who would be happy they died, anyone?

So. Many. People.

EMBRANT

L: Lemons

1. what is their favorite fruit?

She loves plums and apricots a lot!

2. what is their least favorite fruit?

Kiwis and Pineapples, too tart for her taste.

3. are there any foods they hate?

She’s not a fan of figs or peanuts

4. do they have any food intolerances?

Nope! She’s not got any

5. what is their favorite food?

Cupcakes! Preferably funfetti

LAIGHE

M: Maternal

1. would they want a daughter or a son?

She has a daughter, but would be happy with either

2. how many children do they want?

One at a time is honestly enough

3. would they be a good parent?

She really would be, and she was, when she wasn’t so weighed down by her job. A lot has happened since then.

4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?

She’d let them pick their own name, considering it’d probably be another sapling.

5. would they adopt?

That’s about all she’d do lol

AEZLIN

N: Never Have I Ever

1. what would they never do?

Say anything remotely self-conscious

2. what have they never done that they want to do?

Nothing at the moment, he’s got everything he currently wants in life. Though I’m sure that’ll change off and on as it does.

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?

Fight extraneously. Getting sweaty? Chance of injuries? Gross

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?

By his standards? Nothing of course. He’s perfect.

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

“completed” his wyld hunt…in a way…

ENNRECK

O: Optimism

1. are they optimistic or pessimistic?

Optimistic for sure

2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others?

Not particularly, he’s pretty laid back and chill.

3. are they good at giving advice?

Yup! He likes to help where he can, he just doesn’t run into many people very often.

4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them?

Nope, he lives a relatively solitary life, which he enjoys~ He goes to see people when he wants to socialise.

5. were they always optimistic?

Nope, he grew up pretty unhappy in traditional charr life as someone who was pretty non-confrontational.

REGNIETTE

P: Personality

1. what is their best personality trait?

They’re full of determination! If they set a goal, they’ll reach it.

2. what is their worst personality trait?

They’re far too stubborn for their own good

3. what of their personality do others love?

It’s never boring with them, they’re impulsive and always come back with an interesting story.

4. what of their personality do others envy?

They’re very good at loopholes

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

They hate when people are cowards or show no initiative.

ELAPHURUS

Q: Questions

1. do they ask for help?

Yup! They always ask for help when they need it.

2. do they ask questions in class?

If they were in class, they’d be that student with a question about almost every topic.

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

They would, but they’d look awkward during it.

4. do they ask weird questions?

So Many weird questions. They’re pretty new to the world.

5. are they curious?

They’re incredibly curious! About everything! Especially other sylvari.

STRAIR

R: Rules

1. do they follow rules?

Fuck no

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent?

They’d be a Terrible Parent

3. have they ever faced a consequence for breaking a rule?

Nope, they’re very good at fucking talking their way out of a situation!

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking?

Nope, they have zero regrets in their life. None at all.

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

Absolutely, some laws are just ridiculously constraining or restricting or specific. They’re not about that shit.

MATTHIAS

S: Streets

1. are they street-smart?

He’s very street-smart!

2. would they give money to someone on the streets?

No, he got the money himself, he’s not giving it to someone else.

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets?

Ooooooh so many times in his youth

4. has anything happened to them on the streets?

Considering he grew up among bandits, a Lot has happened to him. He’s still looking over his shoulder for some people from his past.

5. are they cautious when out?

If he’s out without his team, he’s on guard constantly.

NIXXTE

T: Truth

1. are they honest?

They’re as honest as their job requires, they write honest reports after missions.

2. can they tell if someone is lying?

Usually yes, they’re part of a spy organisation and can spot a lot of tells now.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying?

Nope, they can lie blatantly and it’s pretty much impossible to tell. That’ll happen when half your face is missing and you sign to speak.

4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about?

Nope! No lying remorse

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

Nope, they don’t talk about anything unnecessary to say unless among people they trust.

NIKLAE

U: Underdog

1. have they been bullied?

Yeah, one or two saplings who weren’t so nice would bully them sometimes. Thy were a skittish and twitchy target who can’t see what’s coming.

2. have they bullied anyone?

No, they don’t socialise much if thy can help it. Positive or negative.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully?

Yuuup

4. have they ever been doubted?

No, they don’t regularly voice an opinion to others. They just pretty quickly rebuff most people.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

Over the years they’ve gotten used to being blind, and good at maneuvering around the world seamlessly.

THALE

V: Vomit

1. do they vomit often?

No, they’ve got a relatively strong stomach

2. do they get lots of stomach aches?

Sometimes they do. There are days where they don’t eat and those can hurt pretty bad.

3. are they good at comforting someone ill?

If they knew anyone they likely would be very attentive and accommodating when the person is ill.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes?

A nice, warm and cozy corner to curl up in with a blanket~

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

They burp and cough some. They don’t hiccup much!

TIRS

W: Water

1. do they drink enough water?

She does!

2. have they learned to swim?

She can swim very well, loves spending time in a nice lake when it’s hot out~

3. do they like to swim?

Yeah, it’s tons of fun, especially deep dives!

4. can they dive?

She isn’t particularly graceful, but she can dive competently enough

5. can they swim without holding their nose?

Yup, thanks to the breathing filters Tyria has!

CUE (right)

X: Xylophone

1. what is their favorite genre of music?

He enjoys just about everything to an extent, he’s not too picky. He really enjoys upbeat dancing music though.

2. do they have a favorite song?

No particular favorite, it changes day to day depending on what he’s feeling!

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

If you walked up to him and asked him what band he’s listening to, as he’s listening to a song, he’s shrug and say he just enjoys the song.

4. can they sing well?

Nooooope, he’s mediocre at best.

5. can they rap?

Definitely Not.

ODOLLUMN

Y: You

1. how old were you when you created them?

I was 20 I think!

2. what inspired you to create them?

Frilly/Lacy Pastel Goth was the goal back then

3. were they different when they were first created?

Oh yeah she was so different, she was gentle and kind and beautiful and elegant. She’s still beautiful, but now she’s unsettling and emotionless and a bit menacing.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters?

Not more than my other favorites, but Odollumn is definitely way up there for me!

5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

She’s a challenge to give motivation for since she’s so apathetic, but it’s a really interesting challenge to be honest.

ENVERT

Z: Zebra

1. what’s their favorite animal?

She loves fern hounds, they’re particularly hardy and survive a lot of physical stress.

2. do they like animals?

She loves animals! They’re so convenient.

3. cats or dogs?

Dogs are easier to trap and handle.

4. what’s their dream pet?

She’d love to one day get her hands on an electric wyvern.

5. do they have any pets at the moment?

She’s currently got several ‘pets’, yes!

#miragecounseling #writing: everyone #I am Not individually tagging them all lol

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fair-verona-rpg · 5 years

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Congratulations Lex and welcome back! We are delighted to welcome Liviana “Livy” Romano to reunite with her family in Fair Verona. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop her! Please send in her blog within 48 hours.

Out of Character

Alias: Lex

Preferred Pronouns: They/Them

Age: over 25

Timezone: CEST

Anything else? Nothing I can think of

Character

Name: Liviana “Livy” Romano

Birthdate and Age: 23, June 22nd

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Faceclaim: Naomi Scott

Family Affiliation: Romano

Profession: Student

Claim: Unclaimed

Children: None

Designation: Dominant

What is their symbol?: a sword tattoo on one wrist and a shield tattoo on the other

Kinks: Bondage, Denial, Roughness, Choking, TPE, softness, sensual touches, role play, costumes, anything not below

Anti-kinks: Watersports, Gore, Vore, Scat, Blood

Biography:

Liviana was raised in very much the Romano way. Her mother - a submissive - is a pure blood Romano descendant with close ties to the family royalty and instilled into her daughter the rules, values and traditions her noble family had become known for. Liviana was allowed to grow in her own way during her formative years with encouragement to forge her own route down the Romano path given by both of her supportive parents and Liviana grew into a shy and quiet but smart and studious girl.

Personality wise Liviana took after neither of her parents, preferring her own company to that of others and an intense shyness prevailed in her personality. Her parents found this quality endearing and believed it to be the beginnings of Liviana’s submissive nature developing. Her mother sprang into action and began teaching her daughter of the role she would play in the family, how she would draw in a Dominant to father children and expand the family line with as many beautiful children as she could. Her mother yearned for more children in her immediate family and projected that desire onto Liviana.

Then came the shock of a lifetime. The shy, quiet, awkward, meek Liviana felt a sudden overwhelming urge for Dominance. A need to control another and be relied upon to satiate that person’s own needs to give themselves to another. Liviana was a Dominant. It was checked of course. She was tested and retested with advanced monitoring during her training yet all signs pointed the same way.

Her parents were thrilled and her mother - literally - threw the plan she had made for Liviana into the fire. Immediately starting a new one with more focus on the submissive her daughter would be choosing to be the father of her children and how many more options and opportunities Liviana would have due to her surprise designation. Liviana herself was not so pleased. Behind her pretty face a war raged between her biological need and her naturally introverted psychology with the two often conflicting and causing phases of desperation, doubt and panic.

In order to grow with her surprising designation her parents setup weekly appointments at the local brothel. Shy or not Liviana would become a skilled Dominant and pride of the family even if it took a long time. To their surprise it didn’t take long for Liviana to find her stride, though only privately and with the partner she knew the best and was most comfortable with. Her regular partner helped her hone her skills and establish her most natural kinks, even pushing her socially by accompanying Liviana to a family event upon her request. An experiment to see if she could overcome her shyness and introversion using the new confidence in Dominance her partner had helped her develop.

Mistaking the experiment for a date Liviana’s parents knee-jerk reaction was to split the pair as soon as possible. A Romano claiming a whore was simply not in Liviana’s mother’s best interests. In their eyes the submissive’s work was done and it was time for Liviana to branch out and start anew. The news that she was to move to Verona - alone - to join the family royalty in their plans and schemes came as a surprise but Liviana had no arguments against the opportunities the move presented. She was a proud Romano Dominant after all, she needed to be at the heart of the family plans to have the biggest impact.

Liviana’s initial stint within Verona was cut short by her older sister’s pregnancy encountering potential complications and the entire immediate family was recalled to Ragusa to offer support. Prior to leaving Liviana had submitted an application to the Verona University to once again commence her studies having felt comfortable within Verona and recognising the opportunities to grow and progress that the city had to offer. Liviana’s niece was born without a problem afterall and on the same day she received an offer of placement at Verona University.

Feeling she now had something to prove as her sister had given their mother the grand-daughter she so highly craved Liviana spoke to Celeste who had also returned to Ragusa. The head of the family gave her support to Liviana’s choice of study course and confirmed her return to Verona would occur prior to the start of the academic year - or once Liviana’s duties as auntie began to wear thin. Whichever came first. It was the latter and feeling the pressure from her mother to be more than she currently is Liviana returns to Verona with a new resolve to prove herself and make her family proud.

#naomi scott #liviana romano #livy romano #accepted

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saintaugustinerp · 5 years

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Congratulations Alexandra! You have been accepted for the OC role of The Crestfallen with the faceclaim Blanca Padilla. Please be sure to check out the accepted applicants checklist! Also be sure send us a link to your blog within the next twenty-four hours. Welcome to St. Augustine!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: Alexandra

Age (18+) : 21

Gender/Preferred pronouns: she/her pronouns

Timezone: EST but PST when i’m home for holidays aka Tuesday when I fly home

IN CHARACTER

Character Label: So I really like ‘The Crestfallen’ because of how it ties into Poppy’s sense of hope and then sudden disappointment but since it does have ‘fallen’ in it, I get why it would be weird given her origins with the Fallen Angel, even though they have fairly different meanings, so I’d say maybe ‘The Pariah’? It’s really up to the admins, so whichever you prefer!

Character Name: Poppy Charlotte Northcott

Poppy was the choice of her mother: a Brit, through and through, she’d allowed her husband to choose the name of their first child, but insisted upon naming their second. Her father, naturally, had played up the flower name’s symbolism with regards to soldiers, claiming it was in honour of his daughter’s maternal grandfather, a veteran of the second World War.

Charlotte was in honour of her paternal grandmother, a woman well-known in their community for being a staunch supporter of Connecticut Republicans. She died just after Poppy’s high school graduation, but she’d left a great deal of money to the girl she proclaimed loudly and often to be her favourite granddaughter.

Northcott, of course, was her father’s name, tying her to a family of rather politically-involved, staunchly Catholic Connecticuters, a line which stretched back rather far in the state’s history.

Age (18+): 20

Gender/Pronouns: cis woman, she/her

Desired Faceclaim: Blanca Padilla

Home Town: Greenwich, Connecticut

Three Positive Traits: Kind, faithful, charming

Three Negative Traits: Self-conscious (in the sense that she’s very overly aware of her actions and how she’s perceived, more so than in the sense that she’s not confident), repressed, stubborn

Major: History Major, Art Minor

Year: Second

Quote: “Is she a sinner, or is she a martyr? Some days she cannot remember the difference.”

Character blurb: For the briefest of moments, she is radiant. Clad in a perfectly fitting white sundress, dark hair escaping a bun in the softest tendrils, framing her face as if they’d been styled to do so, she steps off the train and onto the bustling platform. Her footsteps are almost instinctive, with little uncertainty as to their goal, and it is instead her eyes which hold reservations. As she walks, whispers follow her, not overtly, but as she passes, students cluster together, murmuring words you cannot hear — though you’re certain she can. As she draws nearer, making eye contact with what is certainly a familiar face, you can see a spark of hope grow, and then die out, in her expression. Her shoulders sink, almost imperceptibly, and as she draws close enough for you to see the exhaustion on her face, you understand: this is less of a homecoming, more of an ordeal.

Developed Head Canons:

family and youth — Poppy was born to Bridget Alston-Northcott, British socialite turned supportive housewife, and Phillip Northcott, former lawyer, current politician. She was not their first child: Eleanor, born ten years earlier, was a wild-child even at 10, but she adored her little sister, admiring her little fists as they waved in the air. Both girls were raised by their mother, taught to be polite, elegant, and quiet, always subservient to their father, and in the future, their husband. While Poppy, always the softer, gentler of the two sisters, did well in this domain, Eleanor was less of a fan, and it was rather unsurprising when, after a series of expulsions from boarding schools throughout the world, she ran away at age 17, choosing to live with Bridget’s mother, her grandmother, rather than fulfill her parents’ expectations. Poppy grew up with little knowledge of this, having only the vaguest childhood memories of her sister. She was always a perfect child, good at her schoolwork, obedient to her parents, and as her father transitioned from mayor to senator, she was always on display, a doe-eyed, polite little girl who learned how to smile and shake hands, attending church ever Sunday, and winning hearts for herself just as much as they were for her father. She never witnessed any hints of her mother’s frustration, nor any sign of her father’s occasional infidelity, and grew into a young adult that was as much a trophy as she was a daughter. Her parents were firm about their beliefs in theory more so than in action, and so Poppy adopted them, about the sanctity of marriage, about children and the responsibilities of women. From her mother, she learned always to present the perfect image, to stay skinny, to keep her teeth white, to exit cars in ways that prevent wardrobe malfunctions… Her image was everything, and she learned to protect it. Though her views changed a little, particularly in high school, she never questioned her parents openly, reserving physical intimacy for men, and only those she believed she would marry. Though she rebelled against their strict demands in the smallest of ways, attending parties and having fun as any teen would, she was careful to never go too far, never do anything overly wild or illegal, and always showing a smiling face to the world.

(tw: mentions of miscarriage and addiction-shaming in the next two headcanons)

the destruction of her reputation — First was her decision to go to a party in town, not something she ever would have done before she’d witnessed her boyfriend kissing another, but then, perhaps she was owed a little leeway for impulsive decisions, after everything. (It wasn’t like one act of rebellion could have any real lasting consequences…) It surprised her, if she was honest — St. Augustine students had a tendency to look down on the town’s resident youth for their provincialism, but really, they weren’t all bad. Difficult to understand, especially with her rudimentary grasp of Swiss German, and with abysmal taste in alcohol, but what they truly were was different, which was precisely what she needed. No reminders of him, nor of whoever he’d been kissing — god how it shattered her, that he’d cheat on her with someone else — and when she thought of either, the solution was another shot. It’s how she met him, on one of these nights, a scruffy blond, too-tall and awkward as anything, but the way he smiled at her made her feel as though the sun had emerged on a bitter winter day. And the way he touched her, well, it was magical and beautiful, and they both knew it wouldn’t last, but it didn’t matter.

Then was: forgetting to take her birth control a few days in a row, and then losing it in the chaos of a particularly paper-filled week, and then not replacing it — a recipe for disaster, under any circumstances. But that’s when they fell apart, Poppy and this local boy, and so it didn’t matter if she was on the pill or not, because she wasn’t sexually active and so what would be the point? Four months pass, and maybe she gained a little weight, but without her mother there to constantly criticize her body, with studies and internships and her missing classmate and her cheating ex to consider, it was easy to ignore, really, easy to lose herself in the routine of wine and cheese on Sundays and late-night study sessions and everything in between. Maybe she felt ill more than she ever usually did, maybe she had trouble sleeping, developing dark circles under her eyes that never seemed to truly go away, but that was just stress, right?

And lastly, well. It’s May, they have found Frederick’s body, finals are well underway, and so when Poppy began acting oddly during a morning exam, hands shaking and face pale, school gossip acknowledged it, but only just. Trembling, in pain, but incredibly conscious of the room full of her classmates, she finished the exam before going to the infirmary. She’d intended only to find the problem, take some pain medication, and return to her studies, but the nurse, recognizing the pain and bleeding and eager to rule out every possible cause, gave Poppy a pregnancy test, which came out positive. Confused and insistent that she wasn’t pregnant, that she couldn’t be, even in the face of the nurse’s certainty that it was a miscarriage, she simply took the strong pain medication that she was given, and returned to her room. There she lay, curled on her comforter, pale and sweating and terrified, ignoring all of her roommate’s concerns in favour of staring blankly at the ceiling of their room. All too soon it was the evening, and the candlelight vigil for their deceased classmate. Naturally she attended — even ill, with the possibility of something she refused to belief floating around in her mind, there was little question of missing it, and inviting the questions that would draw. In such a small school, Poppy was ever conscious about the way whispers spread, the way any little thing could draw attention, and in these moments she thought of her parents’ teachings on the importance of public appearance.

It would have almost been magical if it hadn’t been so sad, the woods filled with little sparks of light, rows of students illuminated with candles, tears in the eyes of so many, and perhaps flickers of guilt, or shame, in others — though there was little chance of Poppy even noticing any of it. It was as much as she could do to hold a candle, almost swaying, face tight. It was all she could do to keep from passing out, to hold on to consciousness in the face of the dizziness from missing lunch and dinner, and from the medication, and from the stress that threatened to overwhelm her. Chest tight, darkness all around her, and unable to even comprehend any of the words of grief being murmured, someone bumped into her, and that was it. She grabbed the arm of the friend nearest her and explained that she had to leave, that she didn’t give a fuck what it looked like. But her words were far too loud in the moment of silence, voice somehow strong despite the way the world seemed to spin, and when all eyes were drawn to her, Poppy realized she’d made a mistake, and threw up before fainting.

The hospital said, first, allergic reaction to the pain medication, and then, even worse:miscarriage — she’d lost the chance at a child she’d never even known she had, and not even the doctors could tell her why. The alcohol, maybe? The smoking she’d started only to keep from feeling ill in the morning? No matter how many times Poppy pleaded that she hadn’t known, that she hadn’t wanted this to happen, the result was the same: this could have been a child, this could have been… something, and now it wasn’t. Not a soul at Saint Augustine knew, beyond the nurse, and all they’d seen was a dizzy mess of a girl, being sick at a vigil and saying she didn’t give a fuck: it was a catastrophe. And with her stay at the hospital preventing her from returning to school before the end of the year, there was little chance of her preventing the gossip that made its way throughout her classmates. She was branded an addict, a trashy, tragic person who couldn’t even go to a vigil without getting high or being drunk (the rumours varied on substance, but were consistent with their condemnation of her actions). Poppy was pathetic, a joke, and as the hours passed, her reputation as the beautiful, untouchable girl was destroyed. Even her parents heard, kept from the true knowledge of what had truly happened by the privacy she was awarded as an adult, and so rather than return to their home in Connecticut, she was simply shipped off to her grandmother in London, ostensibly to detox before they would do so much as speak to her. Alienated by her family, condemned by her friends, and terrified to even admit to herself that she’d been pregnant, there was little Poppy could do to dispel the gossip, or to defend her actions, and so she, heart-sick and lonely, could do nothing but watch.

the aftermath — Unable to bring herself to tell her parents what had happened: that she’d had sex before marriage, that her wild actions with alcohol and cigarettes had caused her to miscarry a child, that she’d sinned, and sinned to such a horrific extent, she went willingly to London, withdrawn and silent in the face of their fury. Not only had she disgraced herself, she’d damaged their family name; more than one of Saint Augustine’s students had political or media connections, and in-school gossip soon made its way out into the world. Perhaps the seeming addiction of the daughter of a gubernatorial candidate was minimal in the face of a world filled with news, but in their Connecticut community, it was a scandal, and like her sister before her, Poppy was a thing she’d never before been: a disappointment. The implication, though neither of her parents ever explicitly said it, was that if she improved, if she took the summer and made better choices than those she’d made, it was possible for her to return to their family at the next Christmas. If not, well. Her parents would accept the damage done, and she would never see them again, though they’d naturally pay for the remainder of her university. After graduating, her disappearance from their family could be explained away as simply a busy, successful career, and so their image of a perfect family would be repaired, if only a little. There was zero acknowledgement of the possibility of her not returning to Saint Augustine, and distraught as she was, Poppy understood only that if she could not get her addiction under control, she must at least keep it secret: appearance must be everything, as usual.

Her grandmother, a rather severe British woman who disapproved of all of her daughter’s choices, from her parenting to her choice in husband, was also surprisingly more liberal in view than her daughter. She brought in a therapist to talk to Poppy, and though Poppy refused to talk to him, she faced no criticism from her grandmother, only love. She could sense her granddaughter had suffered, though from what (beyond, of course, terrible parental guidance) she was unsure; she knew, though, that Poppy needed love. And so she immediately facilitated a reunion between Poppy and Eleanor, the older sister, thefirst disappointment to the Northcott family. Her older sister was now an openly lesbian artist, her sexuality being the reason for her departure from the intensely Catholic family, and she was rather popular for her sculptures in France. She was also, unsurprisingly, far more accepting of everything Poppy had done. Though she spent the summer with both her grandmother and sister, who were incredibly supportive throughout the ongoing ordeal of gossip and familial expulsion, Poppy still struggled with all that had happened, and it was only towards the end that she admitted she was not an addict, but she was a child-killer. Even this, to her surprise, was met with nothing but love, with both reacting only with tears and hugs. She had done nothing wrong, they told her, only made mistakes that, though they had serious consequences, showed little cruelty or negative character or sin on her part. This, though, Poppy was unable to accept. She had done wrong, and so she was suffering for it.

At the only Saint Augustine’s party she attended during the summer, thrown by a fellow student, for all of the school’s finest who found themselves in the United Kingdom, she was asked about the her addiction, a question to which she responded with a resounding slap, to be documented on video on the private instagram accounts of other attendees, and one which also made the rounds of her classmates, essentially confirming the gossip: that this girl, once so perfect and polite in every action and word, had fallen, and it was undoubtedly a fascinating thing. Though she strove to ignore the gossip, it was difficult, and she dreaded her return to school nonetheless. A letter from her mother, explaining the love she and her father had for Poppy and the way their decision was for the best, only served to confuse her, and make the entire situation even more difficult. Even confession did little to quell her nerves: the priest advised her that she should tell the truth about her sins, and never commit them again, did little but add another conflicting idea to the many in her mind. She was unable to reconcile all these things, unable to decide if the truth, shameful as it was for her and her family, though on occasion, when her hope was the strongest, she wondered if perhaps at school things would go back to normal, if upon seeing her all her friends would return, if her parents would welcome her back to their Connecticut home with open arms. Other nights, she wondered if it would be better to give it all up, to live with her sister, to embrace everything about herself she’d ever denied and hid in order to follow by the rules of her parents. (And with that came the question of her attraction to those who weren’t men: just an added aspect of stress upon everything else, and one that Poppy refused to even consider in light of the already high list of her sins.) Even her return to school brought no reality, and no clarity, and Poppy is still torn between these two variations on a theme, these two potential realities.

her room — When Poppy ‘was ill’, as the school described it, at the end of her sophomore year, she didn’t return to her dorm room and pack up her things for her return home and subsequent move to a single room. An Augustine worker, along with her roommate, more than a little eager to be rid of Poppy’s things, did so instead, sending boxes of clothes with her, but with all room decor packed away for her return. This meant that when she did return, newly friendless and alone, what she found in her new room was boxes of photos. Polaroids, still with blu-tack on their backs, of her with people who now whisper to others when they see her, smirking in amusement. It cuts like a knife, but something in her cannot bear to throw the boxes out. Rather than deal with walls now bare of friends and parents, she has walls covered in art — with prints of Monet’s lilies or abstract tapestries on every wall. One remaining fragment of her life is a pair of photos from the summer, one of her and her sister, as taken by their grandmother, and the other a selfie of the three of them. Her bedding is all soft blues and whites, her bed is stacked high with pillows, and it always smells of vanilla. It truly is her sanctuary, where there is no-one to gossip about her, and there are no expectations but her own.

Plot Ideas:

Specific connection ideas:

a note: I know this sounds a little god-mod-y, but Kayla (Damien’s player) and I are actually friends + we planned this all out, so it’s def okay with them!

Misc:

For her Minor in Art, Poppy is focusing on photography, and while she does prefer still life and landscape photography, she does the occasional portrait. She’s recognizable for having a camera in hand, and this could either lead to a bond with someone else who enjoys photography, or perhaps her photographing someone who very much likes having their picture taken. (I speak from experience when I say it’s difficult at the best of times to get friends to pose for photos, and considering the state of most of Poppy’s friendships, I don’t doubt that she’d take literally anyone’s photo if they were willing to pose for her)

Sure, Poppy is relatively innocent and sweet, but her hopes as they pertained to her first relationship weren’t misplaced. They spent so much time together, and for her to lose her virginity to him, with the thought that they’d get married, wasn’t entirely ridiculous. Still, he did cheat, and it did break her heart, though that was less painful than everything that followed. I’m open to connections here both with her ex or with the person her ex cheated on her with! Poppy doesn’t hate easily, but I do think she’d hate both of them, and it’d be easy on either of their part to just dismiss her, given her overall image. I envision her ex as having been exactly what her parents would have wished for her: the perfect potential husband, in essence, but that doesn’t mean that his image can’t have been a facade of sorts. As for whoever he cheated on her with, I’d be open to really any genders, any personalities, and really any motivations for doing it! They don’t even have to have known that he was in a relationship. Maybe he betrayed them just as much as he betrayed Poppy, who knows!

Poppy is more than a little uncertain about religion right now, and really she could go either way: returning to her Catholic roots with full strength or going full atheist or agnostic. I could definitely see her having interesting late night conversations or debates about religion with someone else with strong beliefs one way or another, and that then influencing her actions.

Writing Sample:

Tendrils of smoke swirled around her hair as she breathed out, the last of the summer sun’s warmth tempered by the cold breeze off the mountain, making her long for a jacket. Taking another drag from her cigarette, Poppy leaned against the bell tower, posture casual, with shadows under her eyes betraying her late night. She’d been unable to sleep, first too restless to lie down properly, and then endlessly disturbed by a few girls in a nearby room. Not that they’d been loud — their voices had been soft, and Poppy was certain they hadn’t bothered anyone else, but their disruption of her had been more related to their companionship than anything else. She missed all of what they had, that close friendship, late night conversations about anything and everything, and that longing had kept her away, contemplating what she’d once had. At the sound of rustling in the long grass at the base of the tower, she crouched, hand outstretched and dark eyes curious. It rustled again, and Poppy, realizing she knew very little about Switzerland’s wildlife, pulled her hand back. A third rustle, and the head of what was very obviously a fluffy tabby emerged, looking just as curious about her as she was about it. “Meow?”It asked her, and she almost laughed aloud at her caution, dropping her cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with her heel.

“Hey, little buddy. You’re not going to nibble on my fingers, are you?” With little care for her clothes, she plopped down on the grass, all else forgotten in this adorable scene. The cat walked up to her, sniffing her hand with an aura of uncertainty before climbing into her lap. “Are you lost? There’s no way you live in the wild, and we’re not allowed pets…” Poppy, stroking it gently, felt for a collar, only to find nothing. It began to purr, and she smiled, kissing it on the head. They sat like that for a while, the girl and the cat, and Poppy found herself lost in a moment of perfection. The cat didn’t care who she was, it only cared that she was warm and kind, and very good at petting it. Cozy and delighted, it rolled onto its back, batting a lazy paw at her long dark hair, and making her giggle. “Why can’t I keep you? I wish I could.” She kissed it once more, and then became aware of an audience: a pair of sophomores she vaguely recognized, looking at her and whispering to each other. In that moment, Poppy felt something within her crumble, and she felt almost like crying. With a deep swallow, she straightened her back, making eye contact with them and raising a perfectly-arched eyebrow. Away they ran, and she sighed. The peaceful moment was officially over. Scooping up the cat — and ignoring its little mew of indignation at the disruption of its lounging — she strode in the vague direction of the cable cars. “You are going in my backpack, and then we’re going to find that animal shelter so you can have a home away from terrible, awful people, okay?” Her voice was soft as she spoke to the cat, but nonetheless there was venom in it, and a little resignation. “At least — at least one of us can have that.”

#accepted

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vermiculus-incipiens · 6 years

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OOC INFORMATION:

What’s your name? Mah

Preferred pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: BRT

IC INFORMATION:

Character Name: Emmeline Violet Vance

What’s a hobby or pastime that your character enjoys? Emmeline’s favorite hobbie has always been drawing. Interestingly so, this is due to a great influence from her mother, Amelia, an spell inventor whose curiosity with muggles led to her involvement with some of the things they consider as hobbies. A few years before she was born, Amelia created a spell capable of bringing drawings to life in the form of illusions, something along the lines of 3D and Cinema; it quickly fades, though, as she has no muggle bases so far to improve the effects of the spell, and no interest in doing so. As a young girl, her mom would tell her stories in bed-time and sometimes use this spell to show characters from books almost as if they were alive. This fascinated Emmeline, who felt a lot more comfortable surrounded by these beings instead of real people (she’s always had anxiety near others). At the age of four her mother noticed this interest and found a way to bring her pencils and muggle-paper, hiding it quite safely in her room as they wouldn’t receive many visitors in that part of the house. Within the years her love for drawing surpassed talent, turning into something she does both for calming her anxiety and simply for there are no set expectations - the only thing she refrains from tracing are people, as she isn’t sure she’ll be able to capture them in a light that would make them justice. Even then, she still has some drawings of faces she prefers to keep hidden. Another hobbie of hers is music, which relates to the family. Even though they don’t have a deep contact with muggles, music has always filled the Vance’s house, since long before she was born and way longer anyone can remember. They are proficient in enchanting instruments to play whichever song, the same way both her parents and older brother show talent in one or more. Emmeline herself can play the violin and piano, the first a choice of her own and the second quite mandatory at home.

Do you have any preferred ships or anti-ships? I’ve always “secretly” shipped Emmeline with Mary. What truly fascinates about this character, however, is how much it’s unknown, which gives us players the power to write all kinds of different situations, including relationships, with her. I don’t have a preferred or anti-ship despite what’s stated at the beginning because what appeals the most to me is getting to know the characters and through that creating relationships based on chemistry (be it healthy or angst ones). So yeah, pretty open here!

What do you think your character’s Boggart would be? If their greatest fear isn’t something that could easily take a solid form, what is it? Why? Emmeline’s boggart takes the form of a number of people, one at a time, all pointing at her and saying out loud she’s both a failure and the reason why somebody - anyone - has died. They tell her she is unable to act in battle, inefficient on her job and a burden instead of an asset, as well as show their opinion of her as somebody not worth knowing or spending time with.

What’s your character’s biggest pet peeve? Emmeline’s biggest pet peeve is having her way barred by people who stop in the middle of a crowded path - as somebody who is very anxious when around others, especially in situations in which there are a number of people she has never met around, she flinches whenever somebody obliges her to stop and spend more time than the necessary in the middle of everybody, even if it’s just for a few seconds. Still extremely polite and afraid to speak her mind, all she can do is ask ‘please’ and ‘excuse me’, even though far from always she’s listened to.

What would you consider to be an eccentricity of your character? Emmeline tends to speak higher when she’s lying, which often call people’s attention instead of deviating it from her. She gets immediately nervous and fidgets constantly as well, often letting people know she’s not speaking the truth by then.

What is/was your character’s favorite subject in school? Why? A simple question indeed, Emmeline never faltered in answering Herbology. She’s shown a talent for the subject the minute they started studying it back at first year, and have always silently admired how much it can influence people’s lives without then even noticing. She is aware of the healing powers of plant, as well as of its effectiveness, even though another thought haunts her since a nightmare after a friend was mistanly poisoned by a higher-than-necessary dose of a medicine: the fact that plants can also be used as weapon. Of course, a subtle and less dramatic one, yet effective if needed. Despite that, the Hufflepuff prefers its normal and expected usage, which aligned with her wanting to heal and learning more about caretaking only turned her into someone possessing a knowledged in the area closer to expertise.

What time of day is your character’s favorite? What time of year? Emmeline’s favorite time of the year is the dawn. She’s realized how calming it is, and beautiful at the same time, with not many people awake yet late enough some could be if only she asked them to. It’s a balance, and it shows harmony - despite, of course, the beauty in the sky whenever the sun first show its traces. Her favorite time of the year has always been spring, more specifically around her brother’s birthday, as they keep a tradition of him taking her to magical forests and botanical gardens since she admires the plants and nature so much.

What’s your character’s Patronus? If they can’t conjure one, what would it be if they could? Why? Emmeline’s patronus is a beautiful, cute, small shrew. She’s very proud of it, no matter its small size - as it doesn’t matter at all - and her memories focus deeply in her family and the ones in which she is feeling the most comfortable and free (in a sense of having nothing to fear) with friends.

What is your character’s biggest vice (bad habit or immoral craving)? Not unexpectedly, Emmeline’s biggest vice comes from her own worries - often, relating to the many ways things could go wrong. Emmeline spends a concerning amount of time not evaluating situations and outcomes, but rather focusing on the negative impacts each action could have. She often forgets thinking positive is needed and, either when under pressure or when an outcome might have a negative influence for her or others, ends up creating a number of scenarios in her mind that could easily erase the closest possible to reality.

What is your character’s diet like? What’s his or her favorite food? Emmeline’s diet is pretty normal, as somebody who is not too concerned about health, but aware of it. She eats what she thinks is necessary, trying not to eat too much or too less. Even when she’s worried, it doesn’t reverberate to any bad eating habit. Furthermore, her favorite food is a cake her grandmother used to bake any time she went to their house, and she keeps the recipe, often doing it herself and sharing with her family and friends.

How do you think your character’s psychological issues have manifested and changed your character up to this point? I believe Emmeline’s issues have molded her into a great part of who she is today. It’s always been hard for her to separate herself from anxiety and have a good notion of reality, which means within time she turned more and more into somebody afraid of acting and speaking her mind. She much prefers to stick to the background and do what’s expected of her without never letting people hold too much expectations, as she is afraid of not meeting them, and even at Hogwarts she never made too much of an effort at school because of that; even if she had potential, she had watched as her brother went from a brilliant first year student to somebody great at some subjects but moderated in others at the last ones, and how his parents weren’t as proud as they could be. On the other hand, Emmeline doesn’t realize she acts with brilliancy in things she actually is brilliant, like healing for example - even when people point it out and say she’s doing great without much of an effort, she is quick to deny and doesn’t realize they’re telling the truth, rather thinking there are many better than her at both the necessary actions of wizard’s medicine and dealing with patients. For this reason, back at her teenage years, some people even told her what she had was false modesty, but this couldn’t be further from the truth; her anxiety and low self-esteem have always prevented her from seeing herself in the light of reality. These traits have also greatly molded her role in the war. Mildly good with duelling spells and not at all focused or confident enough to be great at it like those who get out of Hogwarts to become aurors, she’s never been interested in fighting like they do. Which is to say, even when needed, her anxiety gets the best of her even when she has to fight and there’s no way of running - panic attacks are common since she was a fifth year and a girl tried picking up a fight after Emmeline whispered back words of repulse when this girl showed prejudice to a friend of hers. She learned to keep quiet since then, and understand she’s better with her hands and mind at healing than in actually acting brave like most people expect of warriors. The saddest thing is Emmeline doesn’t see her own value, sometimes wishing she wouldn’t carry herself wish such cowardice.

Give us a headcanon for your character. Anything is acceptable. I have this headcanon for Emmeline that she’s pretty unaware of her own talents, which are often useless in a war yet a source of light and happiness. Despite her skills with drawing and playing instruments, she’s pretty great with both singing and dancing, even though she doesn’t practice it in a proficient manner neither tries to improve; it’s just something that comes naturally, and more often than not her friends request a song or a dance as a way to keep their heads off of the war.

#Closed Character #Accepted #VIAccepted #Emmeline Vance

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quranreadalong · 6 years

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#1, Surah 1+ Surah 2

THE QURAN READ-ALONG: DAY 1

It begins. The entire Quran. All 114 suwar/chapters... every single verse within them... starting now. Allah help me.

I’m copying and pasting the text from a respected English translation, Muhammad Pickthall’s, with a link to a page with many others for the sake of comparison. The language is a bit dated (it’s from the early 1900s) but it is considered one of the most accurate translations. Most translations on the linked page are very similar, so pick whichever one you prefer and follow along on this fun and exciting journey into the life and times of our good pal Mo.

The first surah (chapter), the introduction to the Quran, is blessedly short and basically meaningless so I feel fine just skipping over it. It can be summarized as “Allah, tell us how to avoid your wrath”. I’d put it in the neutral category. It’s believed to be an early Meccan surah, or it’s at least in the style of one. As you’ll see later, most of the early Meccan suwar are like this--more poetic compared to the long rants about Biblical history, complaints about the disbelievers, talking about how awesome Mohammed is, and law-making that come later.

The second surah is a Medina surah, with a handful of other ayat thrown in and cobbled together, meaning it’s way shittier and much longer--in fact it is the longest surah of the entire Quran. I mean holy shit is it long. Let’s get crackin’.

Surah 1, Al-Fatiha (literally “the opener” of the book) is a short, basic prayer to Allah. All praise is due to him, the merciful god; he will preside over the Day of Judgement at the end of the world. “It is You we worship and You we ask for help”, it says, and following that is a plea for Allah to guide Muslims so they don’t go astray or incur his wrath. That’s it.

Though it’s the first surah in the Quran, it’s not actually the first thing ever “revealed” to Mohammed--those come much later. Really, we don’t know exactly when it was “revealed” at all, which is odd, because this surah is used daily in Muslim prayers. According to multiple ahadith, it can also be used to cure scorpion stings! [Please do not use this to cure scorpion stings.]

The main interesting thing about the first surah is that it addresses Allah as “you”. The rest of the Quran addresses Allah as “We” most of the time (as in, Mohammed is repeating the words of Allah, who speaks in the royal-we form), sometimes “Me”, and “He” a few times. We will talk about magical shifting pronouns later. For now, just know that this is usually explained by Allah directing Mohammed to teach people this prayer. It doesn’t actually say that in the Quran, but that’s the explanation... though it’s worth noting that some early variants of the Quran didn’t count this as a surah at all. But we’ll get into that later.

Anyway, some people say that this is the best surah in the Quran. I assure you, that says all you need to know about the remaining 113 suwar.

(Also, the people who earned Allah’s wrath and went astray in 1:7 are typically believed to be Jews and Christians respectively, but shh. It doesn’t outright state that, so we’re keeping it as neutral!)

Surah 2 is Al-Baqara, or “the cow”. Please guess now as to what cow this refers to and be amazed when we discover the answer later. It has an insane 286 ayat (verses). I’m going to have to approach it bit by bit to cover all of it, so today we’re just gonna do the first 24.

2:1 to 2:5 are essentially more of the same, a neutral introduction. 2:1 is just three Arabic letters, ALM. Multiple suwar begin with letters like this. Many Muslims regard this as a “miracle of the Quran” that can never be explained. Mohammed never said what they were supposed to mean, and none of his followers asked him about it. The letters are not distributed evenly throughout the Quran, most chapters do not have the letters, and those that do have them do not share anything obvious in common. People have tried to find some pattern but >1300 years later no one has come any closer to understanding this “miracle”. 🤷🏾 It is possible that the letters were only meant to convey which scribe was meant to record the surah in question, as the letters tend to occur in groups. We will never know the truth behind this “miracle” and I will not waste your time talking about it any further!

2:2 has Mohammed proclaiming the Quran to be the truth provided for people who want to follow Allah (and Mohammed) like good pious folk. It’s the next section where you get straight into the Quran’s classic themes, which, as we’ll see, are:

1) never question Mohammed,

2) disbelievers are going to hell, and

3) do these things because Mohammed said so.

2:6 to 2:24 is the Quran’s first “fuck the disbelievers” section, and it’s within the first five pages, so... behold the beauty of Islam, I guess. It begins thusly:

As for the Disbelievers, Whether thou warn them or thou warn them not it is all one for them; they believe not.

It is the first time we see one of the Quran’s most-repeated lines: Allah hath sealed their hearing and their hearts, and on their eyes there is a covering. Theirs will be an awful doom.

You will see this over and over and over again during this project--disbelievers will be doomed, punished, thrown into the fire, etc. I’m just gonna start a kuffar (disbelievers) go to hell counter: 1 (Actually 2 since this is repeated in 2:10, where people who say they believe in Allah but do not actually believe in him are described as having “a sickness” that Allah increases, prior to sending them to hell.) The eternal torture and misery of non-Muslims in hell is essentially the central theme of the Quran. It is repeated absurdly frequently.

Disbelievers are evil in the Quran. They lie about believing and try to deceive people. They make mischief and lie about that too. They openly or secretly mock Muslims. They are quite simply in terrible error and refuse to hear the truth (in extended and nonsensical metaphor form) and Allah mocks them. This entire section--like three pages into the Quran--is about how stupid, evil, and terrible non-Muslims are. All of this is bad. From 2:6 all the way to 2:24 it is a nigh-uninterrupted stream of hatred, with the sole exceptions of the neutral 2:21 and 2:22, which just state that Allah is the creator of the world and must be worshiped alone.

Another recurring theme that’s encountered in this section is the idea that disbelievers are disbelievers because Allah made them that way, i.e. there is no way to save them, since Allah is controlling their thoughts. In fact we will see this almost word-for-word later--Mohammed tells people that certain people aren’t converting to Islam because Allah made them disbelievers and nothing he ever says or does can change that. If you’re familiar with the story of the pharaoh in the Exodus story (which we’ll get to), it’s like that, or else like Calvinism:

Allah taketh away their light and leaveth them in darkness, where they cannot see; deaf, dumb, and blind; [so] they return not [to the right path].

The section concludes with this, which is very much reminiscent of a teenage boy’s bad rant on reddit:

And if ye are in doubt concerning that which We reveal unto Our slave (Muhammad), then produce a surah of the like thereof, and call your witness beside Allah if ye are truthful. And if ye do it not - and ye can never do it - then guard yourselves against the Fire prepared for disbelievers, whose fuel is of men and stones.

In other words, hey losers, if you don’t believe me, you try coming up with an unhinged rant like this. (Muslims enjoy telling people about how impossibly beautiful and poetic the Quran is. Frankly just from this bit above I’d take an otherkin’s poetry over his.) Oh, wait, you can’t, and by the way you’re going to hell, LOL!

(Kuffar hell counter: 3)

So... I think that’s a good place to stop for today. That’s it, that’s literally the introduction to the Noble Quran, the “most beautiful book in the world”. Impressed? Horrified?

NEXT TIME: Adam and Eve shenanigans!!!!

The Quran Read-Along: Day 1

Ayat: 31

Good: 0

Neutral: 15 (1:1-1:7, 2:1-2:5, 2:21-23)

Bad: 16 (2:6-2:20, 2:24)

Kuffar hell counter: 3 (2:7, 2:10, 2:24)

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

#quranreadalong #surah 1 #surah 2 #al baqarah #al fatiha

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crimsonrevolt · 7 years

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Congratulations Jayne you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Marcus McKinnon!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

There’s a lot of people who are super excited to have your Marcus back in the mix! And reading over your application just made us really nostalgic and happy that he was coming back. It’s clear how much time and effort you’ve taken into developing his character, which really makes him jump out to us as someone we’d hate to do without in the roleplay -- and we’re so excited for you to explore some of the plot points that you’ve developed and take him further along in his journey! You’ve been missed!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

My name is Melissa Jayne but I prefer to go by Jayne, I am 23 (blah - feel old), she/her pronouns please and I live in the GMT+1 timezone, United Kingdom.

ACTIVITY

I plan to be pretty active, keep up with activity requirements and interact with everybody. 7/10, because a girl needs to earn money and get her beauty sleep ;)

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I was here before :)

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I don’t think I really connected or identified with any one character, I loved them all individually for different reasons and the books and characters were like a family to me. I loved Nymphadora Tonks the most, though I wouldn’t say I was anything like her - her ability to change her appearance seemed cool and she was clumsy just like me.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Marcus; /ˈmɑːkəs/; MAR-kuws Meaning>> Dedicated to Mars - Ancient Rome

Elliott; /ˈɛliət/; EH-lee-ət Meaning>> With Strength and Right/ Bravely and Truly/ Boldly and Rightly

McKinnon; /məˈkɪnən/; MUH-kin-on Meaning>> Fair Born/ Fair Son - Gaelic

FACE CLAIM

Garrett Hedlund!

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I have always loved Marcus, from the first moment I read his biography and realised that of course, Marlene would have siblings. I played Marcus as my first ever character here and I adored him, the character development and the interactions and the relationships I was able to create with him. I want a chance to work on him again, redevelop him and bring him into a new environment with a clean slate and a fresh start.

Call to mind a man in a nice, crisp suit, leaning back in an office chair, one foot up on the desk in front of him as he nibbles absentmindedly on the end of a quill. This is the image of Marcus that comes to mind whenever I think about him. He is professional, intelligence and shrewd, however, he has a softer side of him. He doesn’t trust easily but once his trust is earned, he is at your disposal. He is loyal to his friends, putting their needs above his own and he adores his sister Marlene. He takes his job very seriously but he enjoys messing around with his colleagues and building good relationships with them.

In Hogwarts he was always one with the clear head. He made sure his friends kept out of trouble and that his homework was done at least two days before it was due. He enjoyed playing Quidditch and ate chocolate eclairs by the bucket load. He passed all of his OWLS, the majority with Outstanding grades, though he never bragged about them and instead, celebrated the grades of others and encouraged his friends out of their disappointment. He can be a little bit of a smart arse, which often gets him playfully punched or whacked with a pillow. He has also been known to sulk about little things and hold grudges unfairly.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Marcus is heterosexual and I have no preferred ships for him, I like ships to form through chemistry and good writing. He uses he/him pronouns and identifies as a male.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

A MOODBOARD [x]

AN AESTHETIC [x]

A PLAYLIST [x]

A FEW HEADCANONS

When Marcus was five, he fell into a lake on a family trip and almost drowned. His father dove in to save him. Ever since that day, he had been terrified of the water. he can swim, but if he can avoid it, he will do so with every fibre of his being.

Marcus has always been incredibly protective over his sister, and oddly, her friends. He saw them all as sisters that needed to be watched over.

Frank has been his best friends since they sat together on the train on their first day at Hogwarts. Despite their different houses, they remained close and by each others side. Marcus kept Frank out of trouble and Frank encouraged Marcus to cut loose every once in a while.

Marcus joined the Ministry because his father advised him to do so. He has never truly known what he wanted to do for a career.

A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

Marcus’s old injury continues to cause his grief, effecting his combat skills and even his ability to tackle stairs. It isn’t until he collapses in front of Amos that he admits that something is not right.

Marcus tries to prove his worth and ends up making a deal with the wrong man, or the wrong Deatheater and he ends up in turmoil, struggling to get a grip on his life and career.

Marcus quits his job at the Ministry and lives off of his parents money for several months whilst he tries to scrape his life back together. A Ministry career had never really been for him anyway.

Marcus dies whilst fighting alongside his family, in the final weeks of the war. He dies knowing that he fought for the right side and as hard as he could.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Marcus runs a hand through his hair as he ponders the question. His father is currently going bald because he runs his hand through his hair too often, especially, like Marcus, when he is deep in thought. “I honestly don’t know, every potion or spell I have ever needed has already been invented. Perhaps a charm to convert my thoughts into words without lifting a quill? Late night reports are a bitch for hand cramps”.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“I would take Frank with me, without a doubt, partly because he is brave but mostly because if I didn’t, he would bitch and whine at me until I threw myself from the astronomy tower, simply to get some peace” he joked, though he sucked his lips as he thought hard on the next part. “A knife, probably, since there is some creepy shit in that place and if I my wand was knocked from my hand, I’d like to be able to defend myself”.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Ones that compromise my character?” he half asked, shrugging a little. “I haven’t had to make too many hard decisions, but I suppose if I had to decide on who to save between two people I loved, that would be an impossible decision”.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

He leaned back in his chair, clasped his fingers together on his lap and glances towards the ceiling as his mind repeats the question. “I… don’t know” he said quietly, his eyes slowly moving from the ceiling and back to the interviewer. “I guess I would hate for anyone to call me a coward… does that count?”

WRITING SAMPLE

He wasn’t entirely sure as to how he was keeping his eyes open, but he assumed it might have something to do with the three mugs of coffee that he had guzzled whilst changing into his formal wizarding robes. High Society, Pureblood gatherings were not his cup of tea, or coffee as it were, but as his mother had attempted to guilt trip him and eventually blackmailed him, he had had no choice in whether he attended or not. As soon as he had finished at the Ministry for the day, he had rubbed his tired eyes, groaned in annoyance as he had glanced at his calendar and remembered his obligation and headed home to his apartment to change.

As it always was, the social gathering was full of smartly dress men and elegantly dressed ladies, lavish surroundings that were no doubt decorated, polished and prepared by house elves and a banquet that was fit for kings, which many of those among the pureblood society believed they were. His mother and father had not wanted to attend and he had known exactly why - they hated these gatherings just as much as he and Marlene did. To make the night worse, as if that could be possible, he had barely slept in the past week and wondered several times if he was simply dreaming of being at a party, but every time he accidentally bumped into someone and they scowled at him, he was reminded that he was very much awake.

Nursing a glass of whiskey, he scanned the crowd for any signs of a friend, perhaps Frank or Lucinda, but neither seemed to have been invited or been inclined to attend that night. He wished he had been able to take his sister with him, though they would have likely been given the same glances that the Carrow siblings received any time they walked into a room together. Marlene had only recently been released from the hospital though and she was fragile in his eyes, so he hadn’t wanted to throw her into a room of stuffy Purebloods. When they were younger, they had sat in the corner and giggled as they mocked the other party goers, but it wasn’t the same when he was mocking them by himself and he suspected that speaking out loud to himself would only earn him a reputation of being ‘touched in the head’.

An hour passed by before he finally admitted to himself that he had had more than enough and it was time for him to leave. Finishing the whiskey in his glass, he placed the glass on a nearby table and headed for the door, swerving in and out of people as he did so, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. He could almost feel the eyes that turned his way and he moved through the crowd, but refused to look up until he had left the home of whichever Pureblood had thrown the party - he had completely forgotten and didn’t care in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, feeling the icy air fill his lungs, his head cleared and he breathed a sigh of relief, before taking out his wand to apparate home and share tales of his awful night with his sister.

Next time, he would let his mother post his baby pictures to everyone at the Ministry and be done with it.

#marcus mckinnon #hp rp #lsrpg #marauders roleplay #harry potter roleplay #accepted app

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archivesdiveronarpg · 7 years

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Congratulations, CASS! You’ve been accepted for the role of CLEOPATRA. I don’t even really know where to begin with this application, except to say that you nailed it—every word. Your portrayal of our Queen of Spades was spot-on and wonderfully vivid from your plots section (in particular her wish to do what Faron did for her for others) to the para sample, and I can’t wait to see where you take her! I could go on all night about what I loved in your application, but because all of it was so beautiful and fitting, I’ll leave you with my favorite quote: “She spoke with the certainty of someone hellbent on writing their own modern version of The Art of War, the kind of confidence that betrayed the few years she’d spent on earth and instead revealed an old soul who had perhaps lived many lives, and been betrayed herself — by mortal people, by acts of God, by the world at large — many times.” Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within twenty-four hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Cass

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | My job has finally reached a lull after months and months of chaos, so I should hopefully be on at least every other night for a few hours at a time.

Timezone | EST

In Character

Character | Cleopatra

What drew you to this character? | She has all of the makings of a queen without being one — the sharp mind, cracking wit, and drive to become absolutely anything she wants to be. Calina’s intelligence has won her a great deal in life and saved her from plenty of sticky situations, but she never takes a moment to be thankful for her luck — she simply looks forward, ahead to the next challenges that have yet to even present themselves. She does not deal with the present, only straddles between the past and the future. She is sure of what has made her, and she carries it with her into the unknown. It is her quiet resilience, her unwavering belief in herself and no one else — her bite being much sharper than her bark — that carries her whichever way she goes.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

Even if Calina had a father who had raised her alongside the woman she still considers her hero, she wouldn’t take much time to miss him. Her years with her mother have engrained in her an endless and unwavering respect for women that she will never offer to men. To her, the future is undoubtedly female, and her struggle to the top has only proven that in, well, spades. In her wildest dreams, she will have her own kingdom run by women and women alone, with men to serve. But that is a faraway ambition, one that she keeps for safekeeping for when it does become possible. Calina has never once not considered herself equal to Faron after leaving Russia, knowing that the only reason he holds the metaphorical crown alone is because he was the one who had the idea. But as time goes by, and Faron undoubtedly relies on Calina’s counsel to stake his claim of Verona, she will demand to be given the respect that Faron receives from the Spades. Verona is as much her kingdom as it is Faron’s; he would hardly be able to have it if it weren’t for her sharp and clear mind. She is a queen. The rest of the world will bow before her, whether Faron likes it or not. I think Calina has a vested interest in doing what Faron did for her — going back home, taking note of what the townspeople say of young girls who disappeared into the ashes after displaying remarkable promise, and fishing one out herself. It’s ambitious, and it may surely backfire on her, but Calina wishes to bring into the world more women who can run it with a snap of their own fingers. She has no use in being intimidated; she can hold her own. She is of her own distinct mold. And anyone who she brings up alongside her will be made of their own, with their own unique abilities — abilities the Spades may very well need in their fight. In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona? | “The library,” Calina answered without hesitation and with the confidence of someone of allegiance to the Montagues — uncaring as to whether it was the kind of place where she was allowed. “And perhaps Faron is the business minded one, so he should keep tabs on the place — but that isn’t the part I care about.” She paused. “Never has been, really. I do quite enjoy reading, in actuality — and the library has all I’ll ever need.” A beacon of light seemed to dance behind her eyes as she considered why the place was of any importance to her, let alone of such significance. “My mother always said that being well read was always, always more important than being well bred — and, quite honestly, I’d like to think I’m both, though other people may not see it that way. And regardless, I’d choose the former if I couldn’t have both. Every time.”

What does your typical day look like? | “Faron isn’t one for early mornings, I’ve learned over the years, but I’m of that sort. The morning is when I’m thinking most clearly, so I often spend some time on my balcony and consider the day’s tasks before he finally wakes up to join me.” She tutted, quickly tabulating the rest of her answer into bullet points before she shot off into her spiel. “Then we ponder together. Quite frankly — and I’ll rarely admit this — no matter how highly I or anyone else thinks of my intellect, two heads are often better than one. That’s quite easy to admit because Faron and I do not often disagree. We decide how the day is meant to go, and then the Spades march forward in step. It sounds simple, I suppose, but a well planned day does not easily descend into chaos — and, well, we all know chaos is often what drives the two sides of that idiotic war enveloping the city.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? | “Well, speaking of,” she retorted with a chuckle, amused that anyone would inquire about the useless divide in even her general direction. “I’ve never withheld how I’ve felt about either side. They’ve drowned in their own self-interests for years — and sure, that sounds like par for the course with these kinds of organizations. It presents one problem, though; self-interest leads to downright greed, which destroys the commoners of the town. And with no commoners to follow suit or to be left at the whims of people in power, there is no purpose of power. Verona no longer exists.” She spoke with the certainty of someone hellbent on writing their own modern version of The Art of War, the kind of confidence that betrayed the few years she’d spent on earth and instead revealed an old soul who had perhaps lived many lives, and been betrayed herself — by mortal people, by acts of God, by the world at large — many times. “So my job is to keep it in existence. So we can actually have something to run. Capulets and Montagues be damned.”

In-Character Para Sample:

“I don’t think I’m all that partial to the weather here,” Calina sniffed.

Slowly but surely, she and Faron were making seemingly innocent trips into the center of Verona a daily task — just the two of them, strolling about, or rather, skulking under the disguise of a certain swagger and saunter that gave the townspeople the impression that they were three things, all of which embarrassing: arrogant, idiotic, and new.

“Your accent,” Faron tsked, never one to mince words with the likes of her, for she was not one to hold her tongue either. “It’s still quite strong. We’ll have to work on it more. Italian doesn’t exactly sound like a language of business with a heavy Eastern European tongue.”

Calina glared at him through slitted eyes, though she knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything other than the truth. Her grasp of the language was by no means sloppy — she’d done well to study before they ever stepped foot into Verona — but she still spoke without a lilt, all brusque and unsophisticated. It was a bluntness that had been instilled in her since her youthful days, and it was something she was quite proud of — something her mother had built, piece by piece.

And now they were in this foreign land where people spoke in hushed tones and euphemisms, where it was best to not show all of your cards, lest one be snatched from you to slice your neck.

For someone who was meant to advise, Calina wasn’t acclimating well to Italy; it wasn’t at all the kind of world she wanted to live in, but it was exactly what she pictured. When she was a teenager, after all, and had her pick of any city to live in for her studies, she shrugged Western Europe and in particular the Mediterranean off, insisting that her demeanor didn’t fit such places.

“Is this better?” She inquired, making a show of the overly feminine turn her voice took — a sign that she by no means meant to speak that way for the rest of her life.

“Much,” he countered, though flippantly; their rapport hadn’t had much time to form, but he at least understood when she was being sarcastic, as she was wont to do whenever something she didn’t want to do was demanded of her.

Calina smirked, always amused by his halfhearted attempts to change her — always halfhearted, she supposed, because he had plucked her out of the hell she’d been in for exactly who she’d been all along, and not to be his muse or anyone else’s.

“If that’s what I have left to fix, then I suppose this city has become mere child’s play to you. Haughty for someone who has done nothing of note yet — Italy is not Russia, dear Faron.” She made this declaration before slightly speeding up her walk, purposefully leaving him behind her and prompting him to catch up with a less than graceful jog.

He huffed as he did so, almost like a petulant child — another thing she found amusing. “Russia is a puzzle we both managed to solve. Verona is a town composed of the most easily figured derelicts and prideful bosses who have no idea what the people have in store for them on a daily basis without dimwitted advisors to —”

“What? Intervene? What is it that I’m doing for you, do you suppose?” Calina scoffed. “Everyone needs extra eyes and ears, unless they are themselves a Cyclops. And I’ll be here to remind you of that as you build this kingdom you intend to have.”

Sure she was still calling the shots, she stopped in her tracks — and so Faron did with her. With narrowed eyes, she considered the surroundings and spotted the famed Capital Library in the distance.

“There,” she pointed. “I think we finally have to break the lines around here and venture into someone’s territory. I must study accents, apparently — and you, well, you need a glimpse into how business is done here.”

Faron raised an eyebrow. “And you suppose the Montagues will simply let us waltz into their establishment without a single question?”

Calina was unbothered by the prospect of being confronted, as she’d been this entire time; if the Montagues had something to ask, they’d have very little answers, anyway. “We are newcomers. What threat can we possibly pose if we’re simply there to read about the history of this lovely town?”

“Every threat,” Faron surmised, forever cautious as a contrast to Calina’s fierceness — something she understood already. “Considering this place is filled with endlessly paranoid soldiers who consider everything a threat.”

She made a sound of agreement after a few moments of pause, then spoke again. “Then I propose this — let them. They’ll have their eyes on us eventually, and there is no way of knowing how they live and breathe without crossing their paths. They’ll have to know us sooner rather than later.”

She thought of her mother, who was perpetually unafraid of making herself known and seen — the kind of woman who Calina had always supposed she’d be one day. That day was coming, she knew, and it would come that much faster if she didn’t spend her days so damned afraid of everything that stood in her way.

Calina was young, but not impressionable — her eyes betrayed her less than ripe features, filled with traces of all that she had come to know and every place she had been. She was never against showing her war wounds; acting meek was never her strong suit, after all, and despite what she believed many women thought, being conciliatory did not always work out in their favor.

“Sokolova,” she uttered, paying close attention to each and every syllable of her surname that escaped her lips. “That is my name, and they will damn well know it. What they know of you, Faron — well, that is entirely up to you.”

Still headstrong, she began heading in the direction of the library, seemingly unbothered as to whether or not Faron would join her for the trip.

But then again, she was sure that he would.

Extras: I have a tag for Calina here! :) Best of luck accepting.

#accepted #accepted: cleopatra

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stephicness · 7 years

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I couldn’t sleep again, so here! Have Sheridan, now with a complete profile. c: Check below!

General Information

Name: Sheridan Edmonton

Other Names: Sheridan Emmingard (Current Alias), Yukinori Jyuusei (Real Name), Sher, Sherri, Mon Sherri

Age: 24 Years

Gender: It’s a complicated matter, you see. Sheridan directly identifies as male. However, he isn’t opposed to the idea of being labeled as female, gender-fluid, or another other gender identity. To him, he takes it as a compliment whichever gender he’s referred to, though it’s not unusual for him to be mistaken as a female. Often, however, he’s written with a combination of ‘they/them/their’ pronouns or just the usual male pronouns.

Nationality: Niflheim, but recently gained citizenship in Accordo.

Occupation: Ex-Corporate Heir, Florist

Affiliation: Niflheim Empire (Formerly)

Sexuality: Bisexual, but prefers men.

Appearance

Eye Color: Ice Blue

Hair Color/Style: Predominantly black with a white section of hair in his bangs. He usually parts his bangs offset to where most of it hangs to the right, as he often pins his hair back into ponytails, updos, buns, and curls, but he always lets to long sections hang over his shoulders to feel more comfortable about his hair. If his hair isn’t pinned up or pulled back, it should reach his lower back to backside area.

Height: 6’0” or 180 CM.

Body Build: Slim and slender build, Sheridan has a rather petite form for a male, something he’s quite proud of. It merely adds to his androgynous figure, but he tends to have broader shoulders than most women, a skinnier waist than most males, and he’s incredibly tall for a lady. However, in addition to his slender build, it is noted that Sheridan possesses two Magitek prosthetic legs, usually hidden behind stockings of some sort. He doesn’t take much pride in that little fact, unfortunately, so he does his best to conceal them.

Fashion: He often finds himself wearing color schemes of white, black, and blue, and he enjoys clothing that allows him the leg-room to move as well as something that enhanced his beauty. He believes beauty is power, so he makes sure that his wardrobe always manages to fulfill such by getting the latest styles of dresses and more. However, he tends to favor styles with high-necks or turtlenecks, flowing or larger skirts, or styles that even fall under the gothic Lolita style. Anything that he looks cute in, he’ll like usually.

Combat

Weapons: None. However, his prosthetic legs supply him with a good combat advantage after Sheridan was trained as a soldier for a good period of time. If you get kicked by them, something is bound to be broken after that.

Abilities: Enhanced Strength (Legs), Enhanced Agility, Acting and Theatre Skills, Costuming and Make-Up

Background

Family & Relatives: Soratami Jyuusei – Father (Deceased), Beatrice Edmonton – Mother (Deceased), Yukinori Jyuusei – Cousin (Deceased), Mikkelis Bjorgenson – Caretaker

Biography: The wealthy Edmonton family, a Niflheim business group who made their name and corporate mark through their cybernetic technology and research. They were developing ways to better enhance how the mind interacts with technology through magical and scientific means, making them an asset to the empire. The Edmontons’ worked tirelessly in close relations to the empire to help supply them with the technology needed for them to create and enhance their armies, as well as supply them with the technology needed to help in Verstael Besithia’s research of daemons and magical technology. Perhaps not morally correct in the aspects of business, the Edmontons were a family that took pride in the idea of being able to use their technology in the future to help those in need, especially if their technology can be used for medical purposes.

Sheridan was born under the name Yukinori Jyuusei as an illegitimate child between his mother, Beatrice, and her suitor, Soratami, much to the rest of the Edmontons’ dismay. Despite their dismay, Beatrice pleaded for the chance to be able to reside with her lover and her child, willing to even give up her status as the heiress to the company to her brother and his daughter for the chance to simply live with her family. This was a deal they were willing to give into, allowing Beatrice to raise their son in peace without the responsibilities of the business lingering over them. Yukinori lived a rather simplistic life despite the luxuries of wealth. He went to school like every other child, learned the things he needed to as well, and eventually created a set path to potentially pursue a career in theatre and acting. He was raised without any worry of having to take up the family name. Or so he thought.

Even at a young age, it was soon discovered that the heiress to the Edmonton family name was sick, slowly dying until she soon passed away when Yukinori was about eight years old. With news of her brother being without an heir, Beatrice was pressured by her family to make a decision: to force Yukinori to become the next heir to the Edmonton family or to be disowned completely? Beatrice was forced to accept their deal, beginning to raise Yukinori to become the future heir to the family. But not under an illegitimate name such as ‘Yukinori Jyuusei.’ Thus, Yukinori was eventually renamed as Sheridan Edmonton.

When Sheridan was ten years old, the rumors began to spread that the Edmontons’ were secretly selling their technology to Lucis. It was noted that most of their sales were for technology to help for the sake of medicine, but what belonged to Niflheim stayed with Niflheim. And so, in a move of corruption and political action, the Edmontons were attacked in their home at night, most of the family being assassinated by the Magiteks and being labeled as ‘traitors to the empire.’ Sheridan was able to survive the executions, but not without taking some damage himself. While trying to escape, a Magitek soldier had crippled Yukinori, making him unable to walk ever again.

Sheridan was left as the survivor of the attacks, arrested by the empire instead of left to die. Why would they execute someone so young, after all, when they could be used for other things? Thus, to test out what technology was confiscated by the family and what use they could have to the empire, Sheridan was sent under Verstael Besithia’s care, becoming one of the first test subjects for an experimental Magitek prosthetics, combined with the Edmonton cybernetic technology as well as the essence of daemons. The process was grueling and one that haunts Sheridan even to this day. But despite it being a curse, it was also a gift. Verstael worked tirelessly to perfect the technology until finally, a miracle happened and Sheridan found himself able to walk once again.

After five years of rehabilitation and experimentation, Sheridan was ‘released’ as a prisoner, but was held more as a trophy of Verstael’s work. The technology was a revolutionary idea, to allow proper movement and sentience to Magitek equipment to allow them proper usage and manipulation, even more so than they already had. Even more so, the technology granted to Sheridan allowed the young man to be able to run at distances and speeds no human was able to travel at, to be able to kick so hard that it could break through metal with enough force, to give a human being the chance to be stronger and more powerful than they were ever before. A remarkable feat. Sheridan was paraded to many events, social galas or press conferences, even standing before the emperor to show what the technology had to offer. Sheridan was treated as nothing more than a doll to show off before being locked away until the next showing occurred, leaving the young man to feel colder to the world than he had ever felt before.

But soon, when Sheridan turned the age of twenty, he found that life wasn’t with Niflheim. No longer did he want to be the empire’s doll. And so, with the help of a soldier who also wanted free from the empire and a grumpy mechanic who Sheridan came to find out ‘hated his job,’ the three rebels decided to hatch a plan to escape from the empire for good. And so, as Sheridan was being transported VIA airship to one of the Magitek bases, their airship ‘accidentally’ blew up, resulting in their bodies to ‘never be found.’ Or so the empire assumed. The mechanic, the soldier, and Sheridan managed to escape just before the ship went down. And thus, with their freedom ensured, the mechanic went along his merry way as the soldier and Sheridan fled to Lestallum to escape the empire.

Sheridan stayed in Lestallum for a good two years until thing settled down. Sheridan started taking odd jobs to try supplying for himself, but found that his disabilities made it harder for him to do anything. Thus, to allow himself the chance to keep his prosthetics from being caught and torn up by pants, he started to dress as a woman, a beautiful one who could hide his prosthetics behind stockings and charm men and women into giving him smaller and less strenuous jobs so he could make it by in the city. And soon, after generating enough money to relocate, he and the soldier traveled to Altissia, where they took up individual lives there in hopes the empire would keep out of their business for good.

Personality: For someone with a beautiful face and form, Sheridan has a rather nasty personality. Always angry or complaining about something, it’s not an unusual sight to see Sheridan with a disgruntled expression on his face. He’s a very spiteful young man who lingers on his past insecurities so much that it’s often hard for him to socialize with anyone without being rather rude when you first meet him. He isn’t afraid to say what his first impression of someone is, even if it means him outwardly telling you that you have a face he isn’t particularly fond of. He often expresses these thoughts in the form of sarcasm and sass.

Think of his neutral expression as a ‘resting bitch-face,’ if you will -- Sheridan’s hardly seen without it. And when he is seen with a different expression beyond that, he’s probably twisting his face into a frown or smirking about something mischievous. With such a face, people often find him to be a bit intimidating to talk to at first, often making him a rather isolated or ‘reserved’ character due to his lack of proper socialization that he tends to drive himself from. He isn’t a loner though, mind you. He still can talk with people, but that usually when he has to or when he’s looking for a booty call that night.

Sheridan is also a rather prideful figure, never liking to accept anyone’s help even if it means he has to take a good portion of damage and troubles for himself. He’s not one to want to burden people with his issues, perhaps being more worried about others than himself. But he also refuses to let his insecurities about his injuries or his stature show. Thus, he forces himself to take on tasks that are often strenuous on him and his prosthetics, find himself shaking and nearly collapsing from fatigue more often than he’d like.

Though despite his negative traits, Sheridan’s beauty is matched with a rather kind personality hidden underneath all that ice he shows. He’s a rather sentimental character, enjoying to linger and notice the tiny things in a person’s appearance, the things they say, and he always takes note of it in the longer term. That glaring that he does usually is often because he’s narrowing his eyes in thought about what kind of flower would best suit you or if he could work up the courage to ask you to go get a drink with him. He really does want to develop proper relationships with people, but it’s often hard to with his normal demeanor and rather aggressive and blunt personality.

Likes: Flowers, Liquor (Vodka and Cola), Dating, Reading, Fashion, Candy, Muscles

Dislikes: His Injuries, Tourists, Rude People, Overly-Chivalrous People, Being Bound, The Dark

Other Facts

- Sheridan has a notorious sweet tooth, liking to eat a lot of different candies and sweets even more than he enjoys having sex. Hell, it’s even better than that.

- He’s often seen with either the soldier/caretaker he traveled with, who helps him in his day-to-day life, or seen with a friend he first met when arriving in Altissia. He’s usually grumpy around both of them too.

- Sheridan’s a fairly well-known cosplayer around Altissia’s convention scene. With his androgynous nature, it’s easy for him to dress as a female character one day and a male the other. People can hardly tell the difference.

- His favorite season is the winter time. He often finds himself missing Niflheim because it snows there unlike in Altissia, but he unfortunately has to take what he’s given. One day soon though, he can return to the snowy climate he loves so much.

- It’s not unusual for him to be mistaken as a woman in his day-to-day life. But he never really bothers to correct people when they call him a ‘very pretty lady.’ He merely shrugs, takes the compliment, and waits until later when he has to awkwardly explain himself. Hey, at least they called him pretty.

#stephic writings #character designs #character profiles #sheridan edmonton #ffxv oc #final fantasy xv oc #oc #original characters #long profile #ooooh boy #sheridan's a pretty boy

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