#happy side effect that I can shut down his bigotry

[roll-of-royces]

Feel free to ignore this but I'm gender fluid and really wish there was an option to go by male pronouns in the game so could I request a scenario where the guys find out the reincarnation of mc is a male but it doesn't matter?

Absolutely! Here ya' go!

My asks are open for HC requests and drabbles for anyone interested!

HC: The LaDS Responses to You Being Reincarnated As AMAB

- Spoilers for all three boys backstories. -

This doesn't come as a shock to Zayne, after all he's been reincarnated with you. To him you are still you, and his feelings in that capacity are the same.  

He does not worry about the social ramifications, he's a well-educated man and he's not going to tolerate bigotry. He's the first to cut people off who are rude or disrespectful. And if his relationship with you affects his reputation at work, then they can find a different doctor.  

He sort of likes that you're of similar gender expression because it means he understands you extremely well in a physical sense. He knows all of the chemicals that flow through you, how to understand your emotions and need for certain things.  

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, everyone assumed you were like brothers. You weren't. It was so much more than that. You and Zayne are two parts of one whole, in this lifetime, the one before, and the one next.  

Zayne loves the shape of your neck, the way the muscle flows downward. He often finds his hand resting there, or his mouth, or his teeth.  

He's still the more domineering of the two of you regardless of your gender, though he did let you carry him over the threshold (that one time).  

Regardless of your gender he is still more reserved in public, leaning toward more subtle tokens affection like your arms brushing together, or a whisper in your ear.  

He's waited a long time to find you again, searching, hunting. The fact that you're AMAB is surprising, but he still recognizes you. He knows that spark that lives in you, that calls to the spark that lives in him.  

Xavier hesitates a bit to admit his feelings for you, not because he is ashamed but because he worries about damaging your reputation.  

At first he tries really hard to be the best friend that he can be, if he can't be with you, he'll still be with you. As your friend, your brother, your anything. But he still wants you, the way he has and always will want you.  

When you do finally admit that you're not just friends, his affections flourish. Instead of accidentally bumping shoulders on the train, it's an arm around you. It's cheek kisses and grins, and sleeping pressed in the crook of your neck.  

Xavier does not tolerate people speaking ill of you (he doesn't much care what they say about him). He's summoned his weapon on more than one occasion when someone made an off-handed remark. That usually shuts them up (usually).  

Xavier loves your back, he likes to kiss along your shoulder blades, run his fingers down your sides, trace up your spine.   

Though Xavier is generally sleepy, casual, and happy to relax with you, he's always aware of your surroundings. Your change in gender has somehow made him even more protective of you. Not only does he have to keep you safe from Wanderers and the like, he also wants to protect you from the world at large.  

When he first spots you, Rafayel thinks he's going crazy. He thinks he's confused, been waiting too long, but then he finds out your name. He watches, you're different but the same. Once he's certain it's you, all he feels is joy.  

Rafayel doesn't care about the social effects, he's an artist. If they don't want to buy his art because he kisses you every chance he gets then they don't deserve his pieces anyway.  

You're a new kind of muse and he loves it, there's so many fresh angles to paint you from, poses that wouldn't have matched before. Colors that suit this more masculine version of his love.  

Without meaning too Rafayel finds his own personal style shifting and evolving to match yours. He begins to dress more feminine (softer colors, make-up, flowing fabrics). 

He's utterly infatuated with the size of your hands, he's always leading you to grab him by the hips or cup his face. He loves to be touched by you, leaning in to it no matter where the two of you are.  

If anyone is disrespectful toward you or your relationship he has a quick retort at the ready. His responses only get nastier the more someone pushes. He won't let anyone talk ill of his lord, no matter who they are.  

He adjusts the way he talks to you too, making sure that you feel good. Mister bodyguard, that's much too tall get it for me. This jar is too tight, open it. I wish some strong muscular beautiful man would come and sweep me off my feet, literally, I'm bored and I don't want to walk anymore.  

[drferox]

I’m not trapped here with them...

I’m pretty sure everybody has a relative that’s just a little vile - the stereotypical racist/bigoted/rightwing/arrogant aunt or uncle that you’d obliged to tolerate at family gatherings, but encouraged not to talk back to when they’re spouting verbal diarrhoea for the sake of ‘keeping the peace’.

Well, these people exist outside of the family unit too, and they occasionally come to the vet clinic. And because they have been trained by such family situations to think that they are entitled to voice their opinions without challenge or consequence, especially around younger, female people, they tend to voice those opinions at the vet clinic too.

They seem to mistakenly walk into a vet consult believing that just because I might be female and about the same age as their stifled, muted nieces that I will behave in the same way and meekly accept whatever garbage they’re spewing today. And it’s quite frankly delightful when you realise that you don’t have to go along with it anymore.

I am not trapped in the consult room with them. They are trapped in the consult room with me. And they’re paying me for my expert opinion now, I’m the authority in that room and all I have to do is act like it. I also don’t actually have to invite them to leave until I’m good and ready.

It takes a little bit of practice to get good at politely, but firmly shut down this sort of person’s bullpoop, but it is habit forming. It helps when you have good documentation of your previous discussions, and your medical records are so, so helpful in that situation. A helpful technique is to also agree with their sentiment but not their reasoning, and offer them a new reason to think about instead.

So our conversations go a little like this:

“I don’t see why we should have to wait outside this whole coronavirus thing is blown out of proportion” - “I agree it’s frustrating, but we’re making small changes to ultimately protect the more vulnerable of our community, and as a male over 65 with a heart condition bod you are part of that vulnerable community. It’s to protect you, not me.”

“I was here just last week for his ears and the medication was hard to use and didn’t work.” - “Actually, you were here over three months ago for his ears, told to have a recheck after 14 days which you didn’t come for, and have had two unrelated medication repeats in that time where you told us everything was going well when asked. Also it was his left ear that was the problem, not the right like this time. And the ears don’t look that bad, so I wouldn’t have expected this to have been an issue for more than ten days. But if putting the medication in is an issue, we have a few alternatives.”

“Do you have to do cytology each time? This is getting expensive.” - “yes I do, and the in-house test is value for money as if I send the slide away to the lab it costs at least four times as much. Which is what we will end up doing if you don’t come to rechecks and end up with antibiotic resistant infections. But if you come to your recheck as you’re supposed to, we only charge the cytology fee, unless you need different medication.”

“This whole coronavirus thing is a conspiracy. The ‘powers that be’ deliberately let the cruise ship dock so we’d get the virus and force us all to become a cashless society” - “It’s not a conspiracy, it’s a pandemic. And it’s far more likely that someone like Peter Dutton just had a friend on the boat that they wanted to let off. Remember he caught the virus too?”

Don’t actually make a move to open the door for them and invite them to leave until you’re satisfied with the conversation. They get so uncomfortable when the conversation isn’t going their way, when you’re not just giving lip service because they’re a paying customer. Don’t get mad, just consistent and repetitive. Remember, they chose to come to you. They chose to bring up these topics.

Then actually escort them to the front desk so they don’t try to re-start the conversation with a nurse and ‘win’ at getting their misguided opinions across. Because they will try to restart the conversation with an easier target if you let them.

They’re not trying to convince you. They’re just looking for someone to agree with them and make them feel smart and respected. If you don’t give that to them, they will eventually go quiet, and even if you can’t change their minds perhaps you can prevent them from spreading their ideas to someone else, or at the very least you wont have to keep listening to it.

Try it sometime. You might have been on the receiving end of this technique as a rebellion high school student. You get to flip the script in adulthood.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Esha you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Selina Sapworthy!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Esha -- the thought and life you bring to your characters continuously blows me away and I was so happy to see your application in our inbox and that you were returning to our lovely rp! I loved Selina before, but your application -- straight from the reason why you chose to take her up again reminded me of all the reasons you were the one meant to be writing her. You understand her character and her motivations and her wants and needs to such an astounding degree -- and it’s so beautiful to read your writing. I’m so excited to see everything you’ve got planned for her and to watch her grow in this roleplay! Welcome back! 

application beneath the cut

OOC INFORMATION

INTRODUCTION

esha, she/her, utc +5:30. i turn 18 on friday!

ACTIVITY

summer’s here !!i have work for which i’m always unavailable for at least 4 hours every day, but thanks to my messed up time zone it doesn’t coincide with the more popular timezones. i’d give myself a solid 6/10.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

i was here before!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?:

i’d consider myself a healthy mix between hermione granger, percy weasley, and tom riddle, as crazy as that sounds.

ANYTHING ELSE?

nothing!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

selina sapworthy

FACE CLAIM

emeraude toubia

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

never, in my 4+ years of rping, have i ever played a muggleborn non-death eater gryffindor who is on a moral precipice. that’s where i see selina - right on the edge. her situation is one that is extremely unique, in my opinion.

the aversio is a group that was formed to fight the death eaters with their own weapons - they don’t hold back, like the order, but they fight for equal rights and for the eradication of bigotry, unlike the death eaters. selina joined them because she has 7 years of anger bottled up in her - her desire to prove herself academically conflicted between wanted to prove herself worthy as a witch and her thirst for knowledge in general. had the racism and bigotry against muggle-borns not existed, perhaps selina could have been a ravenclaw with her intelligence and wit. her placement in gryffindor is detrimental to her alliance with the aversio - she fights for what she believes in, whether it be her status as a witch, or the fact that arithmancy is simply a tool for divination, so no, not taking divination because its an “imprecise” subject as quite misleading and most untrue.

however, knowledge is power. selina knows that her intelligence is what makes her valuable to the war effort - she is an accomplished witch with enough magical power to wield morally dubious spells without hesitation. at times, she helps aversio members strategise upcoming plans, attack plans, et cetera.

but the morality that she imbibes as a daughter of two muggles - her father, a diplomat representing the united kingdom, and her mother, a human rights worker, has been compromised in the aversio. there are times when before and during a battle she sees nothing but her ultimate goal and the means to achieve it (no matter how bloody or destructive) but after all she sees is the blood on her hands as a result of a civil war that cannot be fathomed by muggles. she lives in two worlds, and by joining the aversio, she has effectively chosen between them. the guilt claws its way through her mind every day, but she does what she must because it’s the right thing to do.

currently, she works as a herbologist, writing her book on herbology and divination simultaneously. however, for almost 4 years starting at 18, she worked for the international quidditch team - however, not as a player, but as a strategist. her quick logic and intelligence made her well-suited for the part, and the encouragement from her father to join an international group instead of a national one helped her decision. however, due to her status as a strategist, she was barely in the country. while the death eaters were on the rise, where there were simple stirrings, she was unaware of the ongoings. it wasn’t until there was a season break when she was 22 that she returned to an atmosphere of conflict and mistrust. that’s when she quit her previous job and joined aversio - while the safety of working with an international team appealed to her selfish, cynical side, the morality and righteousness of fighting against oppression and bigotry prevailed.

i imagine she’s a fast talking girl. she has so many thoughts rushing through her brain and only so much time to vocalise it.

selina is such a uniquely fascinating character, and i wanted to explore a character with moral conflict instead of my usuals, which are characters that are a little more black&white.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

ships: selina x chemistry. it’s cliché, but it works best. although, i do think her romantic relationships would have to stem from a friendship. romance for her is something she doesn’t have much time for in this war, but she’s never been one to say no to something that occurs naturally. it scares her to think that she would have to actively worry about somebody else as well as herself, and she would hate to have someone worry over her, especially with her dedication to aversio. sexuality: hetero(romantic & sexual). unlike romance, sex is something there is still time for, in selina’s mind. it’s a temporary release, something that can be done quick and then forgotten about, no strings attached. gender & pronouns: female, she/her/hers.

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

[x] aesthetic

[x] pinterest board

[x] mock blog

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

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:

   “Oooh. Fun. Well, it’d have to be something revolutionary, wouldn’t it ? I can’t have something trivial with my name attached to it. Perhaps a potion ? I like the idea of inventing a potion. It’s intellectual, and something people wouldn’t have to rely on their magical prowess to make. I can see myself inventing a healing potion, but there are an awful lot of those. Maybe not. Ooh ! I got it. A shrinking potion ? I know there’s a shrinking spell of some sort, but a potion is more handy. You can make multiple batches and don’t need to have a counter-spell because it just wears off over time. Perhaps 30 minutes. I like the sound of that.”

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:

   “Well. That’s tough - not particularly, I mean I know exactly what object I’d take (an invisibility cloak, that is, it would be wildly useful and extremely stealthy), but a person. That’s tough. Well. I think I’d take my dad - he’s a great fellow and it’d be fun to let him look around and see beyond coyotes and kangaroos. I’m taking the invisibility cloak for a reason, aren’t I?”

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

   “Those that make me choose between what I think is right and what I think is fair. Sometimes those two never really line up, especially when you have a person in front of you who is guilty of bigotry and lies and murder, but you can’t help but think that perhaps not killing them would serve your purpose better. Wait- that sounded a little too morbid. A better example would probably be something relating to a lighter subject, but in these times, I think we could do with war talk.”

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

   “That I’m… cowardly. Or weak, or a hypocrite. Yes. Hypocrite. Because I fight for what is right, and what my values are. I’d hate for anybody to think I’m being cowardly or hypocritical by doing so. When you think through everything as much as I do, it’s rather tough to accept… criticism.”

WRITING SAMPLE

                                              7.

   Tiny Selina with her short black hair and hopeful eyes grinned mischievously and lay flat on the swing, her stomach against the cold metal, feeling the air smack her face every time it swung. Her friend, Bert, was pushing it every time it swung back to him, his young face scrunched up in concentration, making sure to put in force at the right time to make sure the swing would catch enough momentum to go higher. She loved the rush of the moment, the thrill she felt from doing something a tad bit dangerous. Her book was left forgotten on the bench to their left, a page near the beginning neatly dog-eared and pressed flat against the hard cover.

   Despite his concentration, there was only so much power an 8-year-old’s arms could have, and so Bert accidentally pushed the swing while it was still moving towards him, disturbing its momentum. It stuttered, went forward, and launched Selina straight into the air. A high-pitched scream left her throat, attracting the attention of other kids and parents as they watched the tiny girl launch into the air and begin accelerating down just as soon.

   Selina shut her eyes. They were shut for 10 seconds as she braced for impact, dreaded the scars on her face and hands she would get. Oh, no, what if she injured her eyes? She wouldn’t be able to READ.

   The impact never came.

                                             14.

   The air flowing through her hair stayed as a constant throughout her life, except this time she was flying herself across the sky on a raggedy old broom.

   Her parents may be rich muggles, but they truly didn’t understand the importance of a good broom for Quidditch. So she was left with Hogwarts’ old ones, one that poked and pinched in odd places. But Selina was happy - she may have her nose in a book most of the time, but she was a normal witch with friends and an interest for the Wizarding sport that could only be rivalled by those who were also on the Gryffindor House team.

   The Hufflepuff Beaters had clearly been practicing ( she told them, she told their captain that Hufflepuff was working really hard this time, they’d changed up their strategy and coming up with things like that 5 minutes before a game was impossible, even for her ), and the amount of times she had to weave her way around them and their chasers and the bludgers that seemed to be quite obsessed with her was frankly getting on her nerves.

   The quaffle was in her hand, and she was whizzing her way towards the opposite side, towards the ‘Puff keeper who was too lanky to be buff and yet was the quickest boy she’d ever played against. He seemed to favour his left side, so she flew as though she was aiming for the left hoop. Usually, faking in 'Puff matches worked superbly well, but the team was new and the keeper was newer - she wasn’t too sure about what to expect.

   Just as she was about to swerve and aim for the right, a bludger came at her from nowhere and hit her straight in the gut and the next couple of seconds were filled with blinding pain followed by nothingness.

   The next morning, the healer told her that it would be best if she just stayed away from Quidditch for, oh, maybe 6 months to a year to a lifetime.

                                             23.

   She hadn’t known that she was returning to war. She hadn’t known that she was going to join a group that understood the desperation for revenge, for justice, for her rights. Their rights. She didn’t know she was giving up her life to become a soldier, and yet it felt like the right decision. If things worked out, she’d have a long life to fulfil her career aspirations. If not, at least she’d have fought for what she believed in.

   That’s how she thought of herself. A soldier. Every time they raided, every time they found a Death Eater, or a trace of one, or a way to force their hand in a move they didn’t care for, she felt mechanical. There was emotion - they always was. Usually, when it happened, there was satisfaction. It felt right - all those years of being mocked and teased and being called a mudblood had ignited a fire in her that never died out. That never would die out.

   Sometimes she wondered what it would be like if she’d just continued with the International Quidditch Team. She could have continued travelling the world, strategizing, stayed ignorant about the war brewing in her home country. But she wasn’t the kind of person to do that - she was righteous, and brave, and just. At least she hoped to be.

   Selina faced the Boggart in front of her with a strong brow and a stable wand.

                                                "Riddikulus.“

   She turned it from an arm with the word “Mudblood” engraved into it a hand that skipped around everywhere, jumping upon a table and tap dancing till the frown on her face turned into the smallest of smiles.

[seasonsofreckoningrp-blog]

Congratulations, Casie! You’ve been accepted for the role of Amahle Pretorius. Please make sure to check our checklist, and you have twenty-four hours to send us your character’s blog. We’re really happy to have you in our family!

Not only were we ecstatic to see an application for Amahle, we very much enjoyed the para sample that you provided. It was not a typical sample of the present, but a flashback which really portrayed Amahle past her surface traits and into her layers and intentions. We also saw a lot of your headcanons as being very "Amahle", which was a great addition to your app!

Introduction

casie. 20. est. she/her.

Activity level:

I’m taking summer classes which start on June 19 and I work a part time job. That being said, I always find a lot of time for groups I apply for. I wouldn’t apply if I didn’t think I had the time. Most often I’ll be on briefly in the morning and a lot in the late afternoon, evening, and night. On days off I’ll be more available, of course.

Further contact:

[Removed]

How did you find the roleplay?

I was going through the ‘new rp’ tag, but i noticed it in others as well.

Roleplay experience:

I’ve been in the rp community for five or six years now. I’m very selective about what groups I chose to join nowadays just because so many seem to fail after only a week or two of activity which becomes really aggravating after putting so much thought and effort into a character. I don’t have any links to previous characters a.) because there would be very little interaction for you to see anyways and b.) I haven’t joined in a group in a few months.

Triggers:

[Removed]

Anything else?

[Removed]

IC INFORMATION

Desired character:

Amahle Pretorius

Faceclaim:

Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Why did you choose this character?

Her personality reminds me greatly of my own. In addition to that, I think it would take great strength of character to come out of her situation as a good and just person. Exploring negative effects from that and her experiences through her life in general, especially as a biracial woman, would be very interesting.

Para sample:

(tw: concentration camps, war)

It was freezing outside. Icy wind whipped her hair back and stung her cheeks and nose until she couldn’t feel them anymore. The buildings in front of her almost emitted the agony of the people living inside. She’d seen a lot of torture and killing during her life, but nothing ever as bad as this.

She leaned against a tree, her dark eyes moving to watch the light of the guard pacing the fence. He’d be first. She’d have to take care of him quickly; she didn’t want him raising an alarm for others. That would take away the pleasure of shock and horror that she planned on enjoying for the worse of the men running the camp.

The Allies were just a day behind her. If she could clear out most of the monsters running the place then they could spend more of their time and attention caring for the sick. She wanted these bastards to suffer anyways.

She creeped quickly along in the darkness, silent as a spider. The guard didn’t even realize she was right in front of him until his flashlight shined on her face, revealing a wicked smile and murderous eyes. She grabbed him by the head and yanked him forward, draining him and then tossing his body to the side. She repeated that process dozens of times until she reached the buildings housing the officers.

By that point she must have looked a mess. Her mouth and chin dark red and glistening with blood, her hair wind whipped and out of the perfect shape she kept it in, her makeup smudged about her eyes. But that was good. Anything to make them more fearful in their final moments.

She spared nothing when it came to inflicting pain upon them. She tied each of them down in a chair in the living room, breaking limbs and ribs if she had to to get them to stop squirming, and then one by one she very, very slowly drained them. She made sure each man felt every second of their death. She made them suffer, though she worried it wasn’t even a fraction of the pain they inflicted on other people.

Once she was done she wiped her mouth with some towels and then neatly placed them back. She hugged her coat around her slender frame and made her way back out into the night. She hesitated in front of the housing, wishing there was something more she could do, but they outnumbered her far too much and there wasn’t enough food and medicine here for all of them. They’d have to wait. Not long, though, and that had to be good enough.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she took off into the night again. The war was nearing its end in Europe, but things in the Pacific were still going very, very badly. She had more work to do.

EXTRA

Playlist:

Here.

Personality traits:

Positive:

Patient: Having lived a long life and having the knowledge that she stills has hundreds, even thousands of years to go gives her plenty of patience. She takes her time with almost everything.

Compassionate: She was born into extremely unfortunate circumstances and reborn into relatively fortunate ones. She can empathize with people and will go out of her way to help those who can’t help themselves, no matter how big or small the task.

Reserved: While this can be a negative trait in some people, it works to her advantage. She is quiet and observant and doesn’t like to interfere unless completely necessary. She doesn’t give out much information about herself and stands as a quiet statue of justice and comfort for the good.

Negative:

Closed-Minded: While she does try her best to keep herself open to people, ideas, and experiences, people who have lived as long as her have a bad habit of getting stuck in her ways. There are certain issues where, if you don’t agree with her, she will shut you and your beliefs down entirely.

Vengeful: Shown by her first actions as a vampire, she will go after anybody who wrongs her. She’s good at letting things go, so if she is on your trail then you’ve really fucked up.

Cynical: Being a biracial woman born in 1810 and living her first life as a servant left a bad taste in her mouth. Even in 2017 she still witnesses and experiences prejudice, hatred, and bigotry in every day life and through other sources. People, both human and supernatural, suck and that’s why she fights so hard to right the wrongs of the world. She always expects the worst in people and that can color her bias a little too much sometimes.

Headcanons:

She fell in love once when she was young. He was a slave the couple she followed changed. They did everything together and were stronger for it but eventually he was taken from her by a group of werewolves around 1900. Since then she’s only had casual flings and one night stands.

She is very neat and orderly, her lifestyle as a servant from the time she was young has instilled that in her.

She’s a minimalist. Her home is very basic and clean. She does have several plants and candles to make it feel more like home.

She loves reading, but only owns copies of her favorite books. Most of the time she gets books she wants to read from the library.

Her clothes are normally very elegant but dark in color. You’d be hard pressed to find her at any point in her life in clothes that aren’t the height of fashion.

She spends a lot of time volunteering not only at blood drives, but at homeless shelters, abuse shelters, and hospitals as well.