#if anyone muses Carrie pst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msuhana · 4 years ago

Text

heeyoo everyone ! i’m ume ( 21+, she/her, pst! ) and this is my first muse here ! i’ve been eyeing this place for a while but only got enough time recently to really be able to join so i’m supes excited to be here !!! anyway enough with the ice-breaker-esque intro, this is hana 🖤 ( yves fc ) and she’s quite the pain in the ass bc she has quite the longest stick in her ass lmfao! her profile is right here, but it’s ridiculously long ( not that this isn’t ridiculously long but wtv ) so if you don’t want to get a headache .... mb read the below deets first ? i’d reaaaaaaaally love to plot with everyone, i’d much prefer it over twitter (@nagisasgf) or via discord ( feel free to ask! ) rather than tumblr dms, if possible. but if you’d also like to plot, feel free to like this and i’ll zoom by for some one on one time ! 🤪🤪🤪

TW WARNINGS CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENCE, BLOOD, NSFW

meet cho hana

again, cho hana: 21 y/o ( 11/11/98 ), toseong senior majoring in transfiguration, minor in herbology

she’s also in these clubs: chess club (co-president), debate club, and herbology club!

her mother chose her clubs and her major, hana chose her minor and the herbology club

born and raised in seoul, south korea! she’s also a mahoutokoro graduate

she was a ‘accident’, her father is severely out of the picture to the point that hana doesn’t even know his name / whereabouts or questions about him because her mother never told her about him at all and hana just accepted it ( aka her mother has a very tight reign on hana’s life )

speaking of her mother, her mother is a famed auror who fell from grace when she got pregnant with hana

because of her pregnancy with hana, she had to retire early and thus dedicated her entire life making sure hana didn’t make the same mistakes she did and was just as smart, talented and envied as ahyoung had been

this makes for a very restrained childhood, where all hana knew was studying, studying and more studying

also if it isn’t obvious, hana has serious mommy issues to the point that she’s disillusioned herself into thinking everything is okay when it’s not

( TW FOR CHILD ABUSE )

whenever her mother was displeased with something, she’d physically abuse hana -- it began when hana would get things wrong, if she didn’t get the right grades or failed to make the top of her class but then it started to extend to embarrassing her mother by saying or doing the wrong things

( END TW )

it’s pretty bad because hana thinks, still, if she works hard enough she can somehow gain her mother’s love

ever since she was young, hana was conditioned to strive for the best, because she was ‘cho ahyoung’s daughter’ she could do it, to the point that it not only inflated hana’s ego, it also really fucked up her self-esteem and how she she’s her own self-worth

a lot of people think she’s a ‘genius’ or ‘prodigy’ because of her academic history but she’s literally the opposite, she works way too hard for her grades but her mother wants her to pretend she’s a genius because she thinks it’s embarrassing that her own daughter isn’t a natural-born genius like she is

i, hana

this bitch has Big Tsun vibes if you know it you know it 🤪

like she’ll geniunely care but she’s also HEAVES BIG SIGH BC ???? WHY ??? WHAT ARE THESE FEELINGS ???

she’s such a priss, and she knows it -- that’s why i say she has a stick up her ass bc she does

she’s definitely not a wild card, she’s very by the book, rules and all, sure -- she tries not to fault people if they’re not the same as her but if you go out of your way to be stupid, you’ll be getting an ear-full

probably the most put-together person you know, organized, meticulous, looks like she has her life all together? yeah that’s cho hana

her outfits of choice are hot librarian chic, if you must know -- yes, she owns sweater vests and layers her clothes, and yes she thinks they’re sexy

she’s not mean, but she’s also not unreasonably nice off the gate ???? she’s just really civil and mutual ??? mostly she’ll fake smile at you but in her head she’s like ‘i’m with stupid’

no, but if you’re really dumb / do something really dumb she’ll call you out on it without filter

she’s a very type-A personality, but she wasn’t always like this. if anything, she was made to be this way and it kind of stuck. she carries around a planner ( no, not those bullet journal crap ) an actual planner with real dates, a to-do list and scheduled sessions written for almost every minute of every day. if she loses this, she’ll practically shut down

hana doesn’t love control, she needs it -- if anything, without it, she can get a little antsy, so much that it kind of fucks with her fragile ego ( you can thank her mother for the need to be in control bc her mother literally controls every aspect of her life )

if she’s upset, she’ll probably grin through it before quickly excusing herself to go throw vases at the walls or tear flowers to shreds in the greenhouse

if you need someone to critically tear down your confidence and dish reality’s terrible news to you, hana’s probably the person you need

you can probably find hana in 3 places if she’s not in her dorm: studying in the library, crying in the greenhouse, or smoking at the pool of universe

she’s praised as some kind of genius or prodigy, but hana thinks it’s more of an insult than a compliment because she's neither. she won’t deny it but you can probably instantly see the way her demeanor changes towards you when you call her either of those things

this bitch should go on jeopardy with all the useless information she keeps on hand from all her studying, tbh. like she’d be leading a normal conversation with her friends, and if it’s remotely related, she’d randomly insert it into the conversation as if it was something normal like asking about the weather.

not one to go out looking for trouble, but much like a vulture – she follows it. perhaps it’s her desire to be praised, to feel needed, whatever – but in her group of friends, could probably be seen as the moral compass, if not, the person who’s cleaning up everyone’s messes ( or holding their hair while they puke their guts out )

needed connects

childhood friends who know how hana’s mom is, and all the stress she puts on her ( but not the bad things that happen at home ) and try to help her through her issues but hana’s like ‘no, it’s not your problem, it’s okay’ but this friend won’t give up because they hate to see hana so stressed and sad and frustrated and just want the best for her!!!!

give her friends who want to loosen her up because she’s literally so fuCKING RIGID, she needs to live a little but hana is literally like fuck that shit i need to study my ass off or else i’ll lose my place ( but really she’d probably not lose her place, she’s just delusional )

ppl she can actually break down in front of bc she feels stress keeping up w everyone’s expectations of who she is and she’s kind of SIck of pretending to be this Perfect Person but she keeps it up bc it’s better than hearing the nasty things about her

give me a good tension-filled rivals plot, this bitch is honestly so hyper-competitive it’s ridiculous, we’d just love someone to go ‘chill tf out you bitch, but oh yeah look how i steal rank 1 from you’

TOSEONG SENIOR PREFECT LOCKED ! so, hana worked extra hard junior year in order to get senior prefect ( or even head girl ) but since she got neither, hana is a) pissed and b) bitter because now she has her mother breathing down her neck for not getting either positions, but her mother’s wrath adds even more : ) unnecessary : ) stress and that stress : ) gets unreasonably taken out on that toseong senior prefect

exes who couldn’t keep up with her -- hana always puts her relationships second to her academic priorities and it comes to a point where she’ll put studying/getting ahead before hanging out with her significant other, and it has always been this way ; she’s also just never able to properly put her feelings into proper words so she’s always just ... Repressed

someone give her a love where she ALMOST threw everything away for but at the last minute didn’t -- OR BETTER YET she was so ready to do it but the s/o was like Sike! and she was left devastated and her already vulnerable feelings got even worse to the point that she closed herself off

HERBOLOGY CLUB MEMBER LOCKED ! ( could be a junior year or above! ) hana wasn’t always in the herbology club, but she joined her sophomore year after a brush of fate. after getting really bad results on her DADA exam, and fearing what her mother would say/do, she finds solace in the greenhouse ( she’s been there several times bc of her minor and finds it empty at certain hours ) and begins ripping up the plants. your muse can find hana and scold her / console her / etc. but somehow the interaction ends with your muse convincing hana to join the herbology club

( TW NSFW )

someone pls fuck her against a bookcase, just a thought

rivals but fwb ( can also be paired with the connect from above! )

( END TW )

hana secretly smokes. she doesn’t fault anyone who does, hana just thinks it’s a bad habit for herself and if her mother knew, she knew she’d never hear the end of it. so, enter your muse either they found her while they themselves were looking for a smoke or just happened upon her -- either way they found out hana smokes and it can end in either a ) hana doesn’t give a shit and ends up having smoking dates with them or b ) hana fucking fears for her life and exchanges something in order for you to keep your mouth shut

( TW ABUSE, VIOLENCE )

PRE-ESTABLISHED FRIENDS PLOT REQ ! but your muse mistakenly walks in on hana and her mother in the middle of a heated argument. you finally see hana being the submissive person you Don’t know her to be and in the nick of time you see her mother slap the shit out of her. you try to talk to hana but don’t know what to say -- shockingly enough -- you don’t need to say anything because hana just breaks down and it kind of just makes sense. from there, your muse will probably be the only person hana goes to about her mommy issues, especially when hana’s mom makes her ‘surprise’ visits to campus to check up on her

( END TW )

hana isn’t a bad drinker, if anything -- she’s pretty good at keeping her alcohol in check. however, you aren’t -- so here she is, holding your hair, holding your arm, or helping you back to your dorm room. either way, she’s here to take care of you and in the morning, lecture you for your almost alcohol intoxication scare

as top of her class, hana isn’t unfamiliar to tutoring others, if anything, a lot of her professors actually ask her to do so -- pairing her with several of their students at one time. maybe you’re one of the students she tutors?

someone who envies how well hana does in school, and is constantly praised for it -- maybe hates her for it? idk -- something spicy i guess or going so far to say how easily it comes to hana and kind of undermines the hard work hana actually does and hana either takes it or blows up at them for it bc that shit is annoying as fuck

toseong house cute plots bc hana isn’t really all that cute but like she tries ... she wants affection but won’t go out of her way to ask for it??? bitch has problems i swear

toseong house not so cute plots ( could also be relevant to any not from toseong ) who are just sick of hana’s genius bullcrap and want to take her down a notch !!!!! my ass heavily wanting this bc who doesn’t love a muse in pain / agony ; could also apply as a rivals / hate plot idk

( TW BLOOD )

HEALING MAJORS LOCKED ! your muse catches hana in the middle of her rage episodes. she unceremoniously is wreaking havoc somewhere and ends up breaking glass to the point that she ends up bleeding. your muse chances upon her -- sees that she’s bleeding and offers to patch her up. whether or not she fesses up to why she ended up this way, can be determined!

( END TW )

#msu:intro #honestly if you read all this u deserve everything Good in the world #also known as ume doesnt know when to stfuuuuuuuuu !!!!11!!1!!!#also yes i stole parts of her profile and stuck it here y not #ill have another post for halloween plots when i stop spamming the event blog bc my ass doesnt read directions carefully #tws are there just in case none of it is explained graphically but just in case ykno!!

8 notes · View notes

othersworldly · 5 years ago

Text

hello, hello, its the double pisces you litcherally never asked for. i went into the tags, found this serotonin gyllenhaal and then accidentally named him after the new, popular character he plays on turkish tv after googling male names for 1 hour straight. if that doesn’t just explain who i am as a person i don’t know what else will. i’m twenty-three and legally cannot do math or i will explode. thank you for dealing with me and sorry in advanced but i can’t and won’t be tamed.

ÇAĞLAR ERTUĞRUL, MALE, HE/HIM, HELLHOUND / deep in the pacific northwest lives KEREM HAZAR. i heard they’ve been living there for a year and last saw them hanging around mount peak cemetery, i think they might’ve been tending to the forgotten grave markers. at three hundred and eleven years old, rem doesn’t look a day over thirty. everyone around here always associates them with the phantom warmth of a flickering flame, the rich timbre of an old engine roaring to life, and the icy smell of spearmint. hope they enjoy their stay ! ( naomi, pst, she/her, 23 )

B A S I C I N F O R M A T I O N

LEGAL NAME: Kerem ‘Rem’ Hazar DATE OF BIRTH: December 12th / sagittarius GENDER | SPECIES | Male / Hellhound

LIKE[S]: Winning, the smell of leather, fruit punch DISLIKE[S]: Losing, Lack of effort, Intolerance, Cheating

FEAR[S]: no fears . *taxes* .. one fear.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: + CONFIDENT, STRONG-WILLED, SELF-DISCIPLINED – RECKLESS, OVERLY COMPETITIVE.

P H Y S I C A L I N F O R M A T I O N

HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: Blue HEIGHT: 6′2″ BUILD: Athletic, Fit,

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: he always looks well-rested. very sus

STYLE: grey henleys, grey jeans, worn docs, he’s a casual guy with casual style

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS: brand of the hunt on his left peck.

R E L A T I O N S H I P I N F O R M A T I O N

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: bisexual RELATIONSHIP STAT: legally allowed to leave if no one addresses him directly within 5 minutes of entering a room

pinboard //

more on rem

fire-fighter and certified emt

earth-toned babe who wears mostly greys and browns.

he wears glasses without a prescription because he thinks it makes him more approachable but he often just leaves them around and makes more work for himself by having to go out and hunt for them

lives in a one bedroom apt on the 8th floor of a moderately priced building that has a fire escape - which he uses more often the actual entrance

pet german shepphard named beef stew,

yes beef is a rescue and yes, sometimes rem can be found shouting beef around the block if the four year old pup gets out while he’s gone.

very easy going - he has few personal rules and a few things he stands his ground on but for the most part he’s agreeable and will go anywhere he’s invited.

loves carbonara

runs hot and likes winter but hates it at the same time because he has to carry a jacket around for looks. but on the bright side he always has a jacket for anyone who gets chilly

throughout the years he’s become really good at making bread. he proofs them in mason jars and holds them in his hands to cook them to buttery, flaky perfection

+ insert obsessive hobby here +

hellhound

other hellhounds know them as CEMRE a name they first picked up from a turkish mountain woman. she had muttered it softly at first, watching in awe and horror as they emerged unscathed from the flames that both announced their arrival on earth and wiped out an entire villiage in the frigid remnants of winter that is now known as february.

walks the line of true neutral and chaotic neutral

when actively hunting they are known to do whatever it takes. but when dormant, they are nonplused with the whims of the factions - as long as the supernatural world is properly hidden from the mass populace.

has a preference for ghosts over banshees, but likes both well enough.

thinks witches are good fun because the only one who could demand things of him died a hundred years ago

has no generalized notion about other hellhounds.

understands werewolves in a primal sense but finds them dramatic

not too keen on vampires because the dead should remain dead

actively hunting dragons

connection ideas

bed brewing & beyond - a witch or demon hook up that he can call on for big asks. or he could go out and fetch things for them for $$$ of course. like uber eats but its a nymph skull and he’s covered in blood and its the 90s

casually dating - needless to say, he’s thirty and not even married. so he’s basically on the verge of death or something right? lol . so they casually date and appear at functions together, but its nothing over the top. he has the worst hours but tries to make time for them -- is what im imagining. but we can definitely tweak this to fit ur muse.

TRINITY chasing divinity - i’ve been in love with the idea of angels, of these celestial beings and what it must be like to choke on humanity. so why not just force that on my muse lol. i’d love fo him to just be infatuated ( so no pressure of requited feelings or nothing ) with a creature that exudes purity when he himself was created by the combined power of a demon and a dark witch

dd - besides being, ya know, literal fire, his metabolism burns through everything like it’s nothing. so you can 100% invite him for a night out and he will be your designated driver -- unless he has work of course. then you can call him, wasted af, and he will use his 15 minute break to come get you and tuck you in to bed.

everlasting mario kart - i know mk didn’t exist in the 90s or whatever, but basically they’re both immortals so they can and should fuck each other up ( in a siblings type way ) but the stakes are higher because they can survive most blow backs.

good omens - except we’re not on either side, we don’t care about the kid, and you’ve burnt the popcorn. good going paul

DRU AGOSTI lighthouses in the night -- i’ve been alive for a long time, you’ve been alive a long time. STOP MENTIONING THE TIME I WAS AN ICELANDIC SHEEP FARMER I WAS UNDERCOVER Jfc, yes of course i still know the best way to make sheep milk fuck you. wishing you a crap equinox you smug bitch

same face who dis - obvi has to be someone who can die but. he swears he’s seen you before. its just wild that you look so familiar. you remember me right? and he keeps on call ing your muse the wrong name and unlearning the things that he had previously learned. super flexi back story. heck i’ll even take two if people like it. could be exes, enemies, they fought in a war together and were brothers, they sailed across the ocean and it was very gay and also someone had scruvy? so many options! too many to list!

supermassive blackhole -- please invite him to the vampire baseball games. he can keep up i promise!!

or let’s brainstorm?! im bi and a pisces so i will just be happy for the attention honestly.

that’s it. that’s all i could think of during dbd. i will add more as i think of them/as we plot some out. i’m going to shower and eat an ice cream sandwich . peace out my dudes catcha ya on the other side

#inferisintro

14 notes · View notes

doriansrz · 5 years ago

Text

❛ chicago’s very own dorian suarez has been spotted in new york city in 68 ford mustang, welcome ! your resemblance to nick jonasis unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash. your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re fiery , but being alluring might help you. i guess being a aries explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be bloody knuckles, old school cars, and the ocean at night . & ( cismale & he/him ) + ( april, 24, she/her, pst. )

april here and i'm excited to bring dorian here! he’s hands down one of my favorite muses (besides mason 😭). he’s riddled with daddy issues and just overall anger issues but he can be chill when he wants to be. if you’re down to plot don’t be shy to shoot me an im. or like this post and i’ll come to you. i’ll have some plots listed down below as well!

he was born into money and in venice, ca. his mother’s family owns and operates dozens of luxury hotels and resorts around the world. his dad is a legend in the mma world, helped to put the sport on the map as well as win and fight in dozens of championships. he now owns and operates a few gyms in the us.

moved to chi-town at 13 years old so that his father could open up another gym and his mother could be closer to her family. he didn’t wanna move so cue all the angsty teenage emotions where the world is ending due to this inconvenience.

dorian has always had a love for music, taught himself how to play every instrument that he knows through the years. had dreams of doing something with music when he was younger but his father put a stop to that.

at a very young age dorian was introduced to the sport that his dad loved more than anything. going to his matches and always hanging out at the gym was something that was very prominent in his life for as long as he can remember. and as he grew older it became more and more prominent. his father wanted his only son to follow in his footsteps and carry out his legacy. this created a divide between them and their family as this wasn’t dorian’s dream. his dad had become more of a coach than a father to him and their relationship became rocky because of that. the need to be nothing short of great and all the other expectations caused dor to hate his father. but he still wanted to please him in the hopes that maybe he’d be proud. #daddyissues

his parents separated a few years after the move and that’s what brought dorian to new york. his father followed to open up another gym and continue to train dorian who would indeed follow in his footsteps. so now he’s a top rated mma fighter just as his dad always wanted.

he can be chill but all of this hated has built up inside of him for years which can cause him to blow up sometimes. he’d never actually hurt anyone too badly unless you mess with the people he loves. he finds peace with drugs and various hookups. can be a bit sarcastic and just overly emotional from time to time. he should be a fun time.

some wanted connections are maybe a roommate, tons of ex-flings and gfs, fwb, childhood friend, squad, a first love, enemy, or just anything you can see working between him and your muse!

#wealthyhq:intro #intro

9 notes · View notes

fcrvour-blog · 6 years ago

Text

is that a bird or a plane ? nah , it’s just 𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐌 . word on the street is that the 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - 𝐓𝐖𝐎 year old , cismale , looks an awful lot like KIM JUNGWOO , but i just don’t see it . strangers believe them to be 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐋 & 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓 , but their friends will tell you they’re ALTRUISTIC & EMPATHETIC . they associate themselves with early morning ocean breezes , off - white colored silk sheets , the scent of velvet petals & soft vanilla , collections of sparkly stickers , & empty strawberry milk cartons .

hello all , it’s your local 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐁 ( she / her , nineteen , pst ) rising from the ashes ! it’s definitely been a hot minute since i’ve joined an rp . & at last , i’m coming in with a revived muse . i hope you take care of him & love him more than i do ! under the cut will be some key points to note about about sam & some wanted connections .

sam is a total soft boy , so please treat him kindly . he cries easily no matter what emotion he’s feeling . at the sight of something beautiful , he will undoubtedly shed at least one tear .

as someone who grew up with a small & soft voice , he definitely acts that way as well . with his shy smiles & reassuring gestures , he just wants everyone to get along & be friends .

he won’t hesitate to put someone else before him . that’s just the way he’s always done it . he knows it’s a selfish world , but he doesn’t see any need to be on his end .

a part - time worker as a babysitter , & he genuinely loves kids . aside from that , it means he’s carrying around all of the necessities in his small & handy mustard - yellow backpack . for emergencies he always carries : a first - aid kit , extra clothing , a pastel purple pocket knife , a matching colored flashlight , a lighter with matches , paper , pens , sparkly stickers , sugar - free lollipops , & snacks . in fact , he will hand anyone a sticker & or lollipop if they look like they’re not in a good mood .

he’s also a part - time uni student who is studying child development . even though his parents know he is capable of so much more , being the book smart guy he is , they support him to the fullest . it’s his passion , & he is determined to aid them with finding themselves & grow into their personalities .

a person who loves to wander off on his own . in reality , he just wants to see where the road takes him . for those who he surrounds himself with , they can say he’s the type to be there one second & gone the moment you turn around to check on him . the definition of a person who has their head in the clouds .

sam isn’t someone who’s experienced the world’s unfortunate reality . by that , it means he doesn’t typically go out & socialize with everyone . he wants to convince himself that there isn’t bad in this day & age . he’s a homebody & prefers it that way . all he’s ever done in his life is enforce all of the good , pretending the inferior doesn’t exist .

some basic facts : he moved around a lot as a teen , his parents are divorced , he’s fluent in korean ( native ) , chinese , japanese ( conversational ) , english , french , & spanish , he refers himself as pansexual because everyone is so gorgeous inside & out , has only ever been in one relationship ( peep that connection page for details ) , loves to read , is a terrible dancer , bakes all sorts of goods , & only has good intentions .

i’m sure i’ll add onto this later , but click anywhere in this whole sentence to check out some of his 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

#daegu:intro #▐░┊ ∗ ‘ﾟ｡ ∘ ˛ OOC — 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙗 has something to say .#/ rip to new blogs & not showing up in the tags

8 notes · View notes

jaeinxyj-blog · 6 years ago

Text

hello !!! i'm a bit late but i wanted to make sure that i got my intro out as soon as possible !! i don't have any cute nicknames or aliases, so you can just call me payton ( she/her ) ! pst timezone, big 'ol weeb and bts/girl group enthusiast . truthfully, i haven't written on tumblr in quite some time so i'm a little nervous... my writing isn't the greatest, but i can guarantee that i'll put in a ton of effort and what i lack in skill i'll make up for in enthusiasm and adoration for your muses asjdgdkjfhd but enough about me ! are you guys ready for the cutest girl in the world ??? this here is my happy pill jane ! 19 years old, born and raised in yongsa . i haven't finished writing up a proper bio for her yet, but you can find the most basic information here. under the cut i'll be leaving a few details to help you get an idea of what she's like, as well as a few wanted connections for anyone that's interested ! of course my inbox is always open to plotting, as well as my discord ( just ask if you don't have it already )

info !!

this girl has no tragic backstory !!! i don't do very well with angst bc *twt vc*im baby and i also felt like a character like jane wouldn't really.. have ?? a sad past? i just couldn't picture her personality being the way that it is if she'd gone through something sad or traumatic growing up.

as i mentioned before she was born and raised in yongsa! her parents own a small but relatively popular bakery in the outskirts of town, so they weren't wealthy but they definitely made enough for the family to live comfortably.

she's an only child. very coddled and very loved. definitely plays a big role in how she turned out so energetic and positive even when she got older.

she's in a band !!! she started the band in no hurry with her friends in her first year of high school after spontaneously deciding to pick up the guitar in middle school. nothing too intense or heavy, just music that jane and her bandmates have fun making and performing. she's the guitarist and vocalist.

that being said, she can almost always be seen carrying around or playing her guitar. that's her baby.

super positivity energy love blast !!! . . . or . . . something like that ? she's just. a ball of neverending optimism and energy. tbh it's probably more exhausting for the people around jane than it is for herself. good luck

likes just about anything and has practically zero dislikes unless they're food related or just. people being mean for no reason.

very honest and straightforward. often fails to read the mood and will say things that don't need to be said. please do not rely on her to back you up on a lie, especially on the spot. she cannot do it. she will fail you.

weeb. likes to watch anime, read manga, play video games. she especially likes romance and fantasy genres, but tends to be drawn to just about anything that has cute or attractive characters in it.

very sensitive. very. she feels her emotions very intensely regardless of what they are. she has a hard time showing this side of herself to others, and especially around those that she's close to, as she feels that her energy and positive attitude are her best way of encouraging and being there for her friends. when upset, the feeling usually doesn't last very long and she's able to get over it quickly, with the only exception being if she feels especially hurt by something.

i . . . am not sure what else to put here honestly ajsdfhnkd feel free to message me if you have any specific questions!

wanted plots !!

the best friend. could be a childhood friend, or just someone she grew closer to over time. this person is closest to jane and knows her better than anyone else. could work with multiple people as well; i'm all for a best friend group !!

the unlikely pair. jane and this person are complete opposites, and yet somehow they've managed to become friends ( let's be honest, jane probably just followed them around and bugged them until they eventually caved and warmed up to her asjdhndfh ). many people don't understand how the two of them get along so well, but jane considers them a very close and dear friend .

#1 die-fan. pretty self-explanatory. this person knows of and actively supports jane's band, going to as many live performances as possible and cheering her on. whether they're just a fan of the music, or if it's because they're close to jane herself doesn't really matter -- their constant support means the world to her.

the first love. hehe, i had to include this one. jane, despite being the type to romanticize just about anything, has no actual experience with romance. all that she knows of it is what she's seen in dramas and anime, read in manga and webtoons. surprisingly, the thought of falling love, or having someone fall in love with her, has never really crossed her mind. that's why, when she falls for this person, she's a complete mess about it. painfully obvious, probably, always trying to impress them and get their attention even if her methods come across as ridiculous. cute pining. could or could not be requited, completely up to you.

the guardian. to put it simply, jane's personality worries them. they're very aware of how ditzy, forgetful and clumsy she can be. through some way or another, they find themselves taking care of her and giving her advice. she's a handful, and this person will often remind her of this, but her positivity and gratitude are endearing, so they don't exactly hate it.

keep it down !! sometimes when jane can't make it out to the studio to practice, or when she gets a sudden spark of inspiration, jane will just practice her guitar and singing at home. the only problem is that she can be a bit . . . noisy when doing so. this person in particular is especially bothered by it. no matter how many times they've come to complain, and no matter how many times jane tries to laugh it off and apologize, it just seems to keep happening . . .

#yj:intro #( ooc. )#( i tend to ramble i apologize asjdfhnkdfh )#( pls love jane she is a good person !!! )

5 notes · View notes

anneesfolleshq · 6 years ago

Photo

Bonjour et bienvenue! Paris welcomes you, our Right Hand, Tage Falk! May we say, you’re the spitting image of Alexander Skarsgård! Please make your presence known within 24 hours, and do have a look at our checklist before setting out into the city on your own. À bientôt!

MUN

Name/Alias: Cai

Preferred Pronouns: He/They

Age: 21

Timezone: PST

MUSE

Chosen Skeleton: The Right Hand

Muse Name: Tage Falk

Muse Age: 45

Chosen FC: Alexander Skarsgård

Muse Occupation: Right hand to Anthony Holst

Muse Affiliation & Frequent Haunts: Paris as a whole owns Falk, body and soul (although some would argue one man does). Whether in La Gavroche eating a meal with the city elite or sitting in the corner and observing the telling transgressions on display of those who frequent Le Ciel and L'Enfer, he is wherever he is needed. Of course, Falk has his own vices and virtues, such as visiting the backroom of the Blue Lotus or confessing his many, many, many sins in Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. He also enjoys watching the abundance of life on display in Parc Montsouris and contemplating the endless death present in the Catacombs, which also doubles as a good dumping ground for his crimes.

Direct from Le Petit Journal: There is a name whispered by the lowlife element of the streets that inspires both jealousy and fear: Falk. Seen in near constant companionship with the Fat Cat of Paris, he’s the closest anyone can find as an intimate friend to Anthony Holst. What sort of ill deeds has the man done to achieve this status? However, what’s more frightening was the amount of blood seen on his clothes last night. All that our dear readers really need to know about Falk is this: should you see him coming towards you, flee.

BIOGRAPHY

The Falk family didn’t come from auspicious beginnings. Magnus was a baker who couldn’t get the smell of ash out of his clothes and took the old bread home to feed his family. Helen was his wife who broke her legs badly as a young girl and had been crippled ever since, yet could darn and stitch enough to bring a much needed second income to their meager household. Tage was their single child, a miracle after a series of still births and miscarriages. He grew up as a sickly child his first few years of life, always coughing from the flour dust, weak from the cold. His parents seized on a chance, a long shot of the steepest odds. They moved to Paris, a city of great promise, when Tage was six.

The Falk family still struggled in the city of lights. However, the boy grew in size and strength, just another weed poking up through the paving stones, seeking the sun. The stiff competition of the streets spurred him on, and slinging bags of flour made him fill out into his father’s frame. Yet he was not content to work in the same profession as his father, the one expected of him. Tage wanted more, he hungered. For what, Tage didn’t know, but he found a glimmer of whatever it was in an older boy who he admired in their small immigrant community. Anthony Holst became the boy who hung the moon in his eyes.

Tage became Anthony’s shadow, ignored his mother’s fierce warnings about the Holst family and his father’s cowering. He saw something in Anthony that neither of his parents would understand. He would do anything the older man would require of him, and was introduced to the streets like never before for his devotion. He drew his first blood under his idol’s watchful gaze, had his wounds tended to by the same. His mother and father saw less and less of him, until their untimely deaths in a house burglary that went wrong.

It was then Tage shed his first name on the streets, becoming known only as Falk. Falk was the man who broke a man’s jaw in a single punch, Falk was the man who brandished a knife like it was an extension of his arm, Falk was the blood covered demon, Falk was the cur brought to heel by the younger Holst. With the death of his parents nothing was sacred, everything could be done for the right amount. The first thing he did was exact violent revenge for his parents death. Then he became the red right hand for the Holst family, dealing out punishment as they saw fit, enforcing their words as law.

Then a beast greater than any Falk could become roared and swallowed the continent. War broke out and flung Falk into the ranks of the many that wallowed in trenches that crisscrossed the fields of France. By the same miracle of his birth, he survived when so many others didn’t. Falk returned to his home city with blood under his fingernails and metal still embedded in his body, shrapnel that still makes him ache. He would carry the war with him wherever he went. The immediate memories of war were soon forgotten, as the battle of influence and power dominated his thoughts. He once again threw his allegiance in with Anthony Holst, now the consummate head of a empire, and took up his mantle as the man’s right hand, where he rightfully belonged.

POTENTIAL PLOTS/CONNECTIONS

I don’t think I have any extra connections I immediately want?

EXTRAS

https://www.pinterest.com/caimarbles/character-tage-falk/

#accepted

4 notes · View notes

epistemia-blog · 7 years ago

Text

hey — it’s nice to meet everyone. i’m theon (he/him), 18 / est for college but pst in my heart. excited to be here and to write with you all! i’ve been in and out of the rp scene for a few years, but writing is definitely one of my passions and rp is, as always, addictively fun. i’m playing adrian liu, the athena muse — jump down under the cut for some quick info (i’ll have my full about page done eventually, but i just got back from a music retreat)!

( dm me any time to plot or hit me up on discord at actaeon#9882 !! )

ADRIAN LIU —– athena: intelligence, war, and peace.

22. he/him. perceptive. ambitious. vengeful. brooding.

he’s a politician’s kid, raised from birth to excel, to be brighter and better than anyone else. he has to, for the sake of his father’s image and campaigns. don’t rock the boat, don’t start any trouble — just be the best.

he sacrificed a lot for his success: while other kids had clubs and extracurriculars doing things they enjoy, he was at tutoring class after tutoring class, studying until his fingers bruised and ached from the tight grip he held on his pencil as he scratched his way through another essay, another problem set. it’s led him now to be extremely self-disciplined.

his relationship with his father is cold, anything but healthy. they have a mutual begrudging respect, but he’s barely acknowledged: an unwanted child that brought more trouble than his father wanted.

adrian isn’t naturally competitive, but what he fears, even more than his father, is failure. mediocrity, he thinks, is its own punishment, and so he strives to climb the class ranks, graduating valedictorian from his high school with the help of his (un)naturally good memory.

academia and education is what he sees as his one chance to get out of the cage that his father’s trapped him in: the isolation and pressure of having to be the perfect child. he struggles, often, with escaping his father’s shadow.

he’s quiet, almost to the point of being brooding, but his calm exterior hides a rebellious spirit — and a hidden temper. it takes a lot to push adrian over the edge, but once he gets angry, his tongue is sharper than his mind could ever be, cold and unforgiving. what’s more: he holds grudges, sometimes for life.

other notes

intp. chaotic good. ravenclaw (that leans slytherin).

chinese-american background. mother was never really in the picture, having left when he was a child.

adrian is biromantic but asexual — and romantic relationships, as a whole, don’t carry much weight with him.

this pinterest board might give you a better grasp of his character: ( x )

#deityintro

4 notes · View notes

rcmanos · 7 years ago

Text

hi welcome to my much less extra ooc intro ! before we get started with my rambling i wanted to say that if anyone had plots with previous scarlett(s) i’m more than happy to carry them on ! let’s get on with it now: i’m mary i’m 18 and from the pst. im heckin nice i promise so feel free to message me to chat and allsorts. also, i’m just a just a trash can filled with memes and angst plots wearing a trench coat so pls help me out. i am really excited for this rp as well as getting to meet and fall in love with y’all and your lovely muses. click the read more for the 4-1-1 on my troubled religious bby and smash that lil heart for plotting purposes. here we go. religion tw ahead. just in case.

ok so my bio page is not even up so this will give you the basics of scar while i take up my lazy ass and type some things up.

scarlett was born into a somewhat healthy family, it had it’s problems but overall it was a good environment to be in. she was an only child so she was a little spoiled and while her parents weren’t rich af they did try their best to give her everything she needed and she never once struggled with money. in her childhood.

all of this led to a normal teenager, her angry outburst and her rebel years where there but nothing out of the ordinary.

during all this time scarlett wasn’t very religious. her parents where catholic and she was too but they rarely went to church and while they practiced in the big events, like christmas and easter, she never really felt any pull to her religion. until...

her mother died when she was around fifteen years old, from a car crash and her father blamed himself due to her mother going out after a fight she had with him. things went a little downhill from there.

scarlett felt so lost and alone, her father would drink almost everyday. he never once hit her or yelled at her or abused her in any way but he was distant. nothing like the man he got to know.

she desperately needed advice or someone to rely on and she found something close to that in her aunt georgia, whom is a very religious person. her aunt became like her second mother to her and she was the one who got her super interested in her religion and boosted her faith.

she believes now that the only person who will always be there for you (friends? anyone?) is god and that he is her closest connection to her mother. she also developed a slight fear of death after her mother passed away and that’s one of the reasons she is a hardcore church goer and does everything perfectly, she likes to believe heaven exists and wants to go to the good place (the good place? anyone?).

but that is getting a little hard because... she’s starting to develop feelings for girls. dear lord help us all. she constantly prays and tries to get them to go away but she knows it’s not going to happen so she just like pushes her feelings deep, deep down. it’s easy to pretend since she knows she is attracted to boys but she looks at a girl and goes all like ‘i’m such a sinner’ and such. someone help this girl out.

that’s about it for the basics, i think. lmao, hopefully. i come up with new things everyday so like it’s never over but i think this is enough.

PLOTS: ( not at all set in stone, if you guys have any idea on how to improve them / want to change something, just tell me and i’ll bE GLAD BECAUSE I LOVE PLOTS )

i would really love a childhood friend, like someone who has known scarlett since the whole ordeal with her mom happened, someone who has seen her through it all. maybe they distanced after something happened or maybe they are still in contact, either is fine.

i’d love someone which scarlett could tell her problems to, like her bisexuality shining through and her trying to repress it and all of that good stuff, someone she can confide in? i’d love that.

i’d also love some friends that just remained friends, like with no hidden romantic undertones or anything, just pure raw friendship. gimme the brother/sister type. like the overprotective, i’m so happy to see you everyday type.

fwb but not friends with benefits? because scarlett is very against that but give me those almost and maybe she kisses them and she’s all like, ‘god what am i doing give me strength’ and then like the cycle repeating because that’s as far as her benefits would go.... for now.

hit me up w them angsty romance plots lmao the angst is necessary af because my gal here can’t have nice things.

maybe your muse is idk tryna ease or drag her out of her comfort zone? like sure sometimes she does it all by herself and that’s fun n messy but other times she just wants to sit at home like an old lady and watch the real housewives ( me aF ).

maybe they just HATE each other for no/many reasons and fight at every chance they get because your muse knows how to get under her skin and push her buttons. give me that & i will give u my heart

also i understand most of you already have some plots figured out and this is what happens when i’m too late but don’t worry as long as this girl has some friends she’s okay. i’m pumped to be here and i can’t wait to get started!

#milford:intro #this is sooo late #wanted plots are also under the read more #ily guys #happy holidays!

9 notes · View notes

dishonoredrpg · 4 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE EMPRESS with the faceclaim of ZHANG ZIYI. I cannot express to you how outright excited I was upon starting the app, and how much my adrenaline rose throughout. I could highlight everything in this app and it would be justified, but the resignation in being wed to Septimus and the distance she put between her daughter and herself and the repeated motif of sing me a song really just... floored me. I’m not even kidding when I say my jaw dropped a few times throughout the app. You have a true skill in weaving words, and I fully believe that Calliope will capture the hearts of her subjects as Queen-Consort on the dashboard with absolutely no reservations or hesitation in her. I’m thrilled!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER.

NAME: Becky

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST, and I would rate my dash activity at about 4-6, meaning I’m more or less on dash around half the time. However, I’m applying to/preparing for graduate school, so my activity might take a hit from that (and also dealing with home renovation so twinsies??), but I’m definitely always on discord!

ANYTHING ELSE?: Thanks for reading and considering my application! I just want to say that you did a great job with Dishonored, so I seriously wish it the best of luck moving forward! Also, I took some liberties with NPC’s (amongst some other things, i.e. guessing at court politics, informed by different media and historical influences) for the background portion of the application, so if anything doesn’t line up with your vision please consider it canon adjacent and that I’d be happy to change anything accordingly if I were accepted!

IN CHARACTER.

SKELETON: THE EMPRESS.

NAME: CALLIOPE. From Greek kallos, meaning beauty, and ops, meaning voice. Chief of all muses, mother of sirens: a historied name heralds greatness, which is exactly what is expected of her, from birth to now — and who is she to deny her name? Strictly speaking, her name means beautiful-voiced, and never one to disappoint, singing is one of many things she spent her youth cultivating, though hardly a line of melody has been heard from her since she’s become queen consort; even so, her voice finds good use today in making hard to hear truths sound that much sweeter. Diplomacy by itself is hard, and even harder if one cannot even bear to listen.

EVELYN. Derived from Eve, meaning to live, to breathe. Left with the decision to live, eyes closed in intentional ignorance, to endure that which she’s lived with thus far, or take a bite of the forbidden fruit, unsure what might be wrought by it. Pose the question to anyone, and everyone’s answer shall differ, from their motivations to their goals.

VALMONT. Even after 26 years, the name feels ill-settled. Perhaps it’s a symptom of not loving the man the name comes with, not even liking him — but either way, it is hers now, as much as Altaire is not. It belongs to her, and she, it; a cruel reminder of how she is but equivalent to her husband in all the simple ways that matter to the majority of people.

(née ALTAIRE.) A call to the star altair, from the constellation of aquila. This is the name that she turns to, though she’s spent more years of her life a Valmont than she has an Altaire. ( Further elaboration kept in the extras section. )

FACECLAIM: I’d love to use (1) Zhang Ziyi or (2) Michelle Yeoh!

AGE: 46 years old.

DETAILS: I’m running out of time a little (was a tad overzealous in the background portion, oops), but I was drawn to the restraint and the duty that the Empress’ skeleton shows. It teems, a bit, with her raw power: she is regal and brilliant, but she is never consumed by it, always holding back, be it with her daughter, with her anger, or with herself.

She builds her own cage, stipulates her own conditions, calls that duty, and sees things through.

BACKGROUND: [ tw: blood mentions, violence ]

You are born with a tightly closed bud for a heart; you remember the feeling distinctly: how curiously stuffy and closed it felt in the cage of your chest as a child, roaming the echoing halls of the Altaire estate alone, with no equal. Nannies, maidservants, and tutors alike would chase you down those halls, all the way into the doorway of your father’s study, where they would skid to a halt, even as you brazenly pitter-pattered your way in.

Sometimes you’d turn your head around and watch them as they stumbled through a stammering apology to your father, and you wouldn’t feel a single thing, observing as blankly and uncannily as a doll on a shelf.

Your father is the eldest son of his father, and head of the family in his own right, and you are his first daughter.

There are certain dues and certain duties that come with such coveted title, and even as he scooped you into his arms and waved off the hesitant apology, he impressed the importance of it upon you.

He would stride to the window behind his desk, look out of it, over the grand view of your family’s ancestral estate.

“The hedges,” he would say. “They look nice, do they not?”

And they do.

“But they would fall into disarray if someone did not take care of them. Perhaps they would wither and die with no water, or grow too wild with no trimming, or maybe, they would get trampled by those who don’t care.”

You blink at him.

“Our groundskeeper must tend to that, and in turn, I, him. Do you understand, Calliope?” He asks, setting you back down.

You walk over to the window and set your hands on the sill, getting up on your tiptoes to peer out over the edge.

He smiles at this, running a fond hand over the crown of your head and smoothing it over your head. “Perhaps not,” he says, resting his heavy hand on your shoulder, and your knees lock with the effort to keep you standing firm for it to rest comfortably there. “But you will. You’ll understand what it is that we owe to each other.”

You don’t understand, because, really, how could you?

You eat from polished silver plates and with fine cutlery, wear silks woven from the sheerest threads; this all, you’ve never worked a day in your life for -- it’s simply something that just is, and no one seems to question it. So what could you possibly owe?

But the solemnity still weighs on you, your father’s expectant hand, as if still on your shoulder. The bud of your heart begins to bloom with the prospect of a future where you do understand.

The tutors work hard to impart their knowledge on you: as varied as recounts of historical battles, to fencing, and then painting; they work for you endlessly, and you realize, in turn, you must work tirelessly. Otherwise, what is the point?

You begin to excel, outstripping your cousins, companions, shattering the lofty ceiling of expectations over your head that, once upon a time, you mistook for shelter.

The bloom of your heart is nurtured to blossom through all this careful cultivation.

You always attend feasts and banquets and soirée’s, but you, rarely, if ever, host them. You pick at the food in front of you, loathe to take too much on your plate, unsettled by the idea of eating overmuch and owing thus in turn.

“Why don’t we host anything?” You ask your father one day.

“We don’t need to,” he says simply. “We do not buy anything we can make.”

“What are they buying?” You ask, frowning. “It’s a feast, not a market.”

“Loyalty, good will, perhaps love,” he answers. “These, daughter, are never wares that you can buy. You can have the initial illusion of them, but they will one day shimmer and fade. If you should speak, they should listen. If you should cry, they should mourn. And if you should bare all your fanged teeth and smile, they should tremble. These are not things that gold can ever buy.”

You practice a smile in the mirror that night.

You look a doll, and you go to sleep disappointed.

You sharpen your focus on your studies; your mind is made into a knife, your tongue honed to match, whet upon the leatherbound volumes tucked in the deepest crevices of the library. You hope these will show in the lines of your smile.

At the end of your 17th winter, you know three different instruments, from the zither to the lute, the quickest way to disarm and kill a man, and the battlefield strategies employed in three of Tyrholm’s greatest victories. But perhaps most importantly, you know how to hide all of this and play pacific diplomat.

You step into Septimus’ court for the first time when you’re 18, making your first, most notable debut, though most of Hightown knows you and your family already, but there are suitors to ensnare, traditions that must be followed. You flit and flitter between different people in the reception hall of the grand Castle Tyrholm, taking care to cover your laughs with a demure hand, to smile with your lips closed, neither teeth nor ambitions bared.

You catch the notice of many pleasingly well-matched prospectives, and you continue to nurture those fledglings into flights of fancy.

It takes time, of course, but after a full year, potentials, prospectives, all the likes turn into official declarations; to say you are pleased is to understate it.

You’ve worked hard for it.

Perhaps too hard.

You’re invited back to court while your family meets with all of those dedicated suitors, for reasons unspecified except that the King should wish to host you.

You make your way into the reception hall, make your rounds of formal greetings, all too wary of the way his eye follows your path, and the way his sixth wife tracks his venomously. Her family has never been too warmly disposed to yours.

He greets you in as grandiose a manner possible, his voice booming and carrying over the general noise of the gathering some ways away in the hall, jovial enough to almost make you forget the whispers of what he has done in the shadows.

“You’re from the Altaire family, correct, my dear girl?” He asks, clearing his throat. “Good family,” he says, as if to himself. “Always been good to the Valmonts.”

“We have only been the crown’s humble servants in the same way any other noble family has,” you say, dipping your head in acknowledgement and smiling.

“Nonsense,” he says, grinning and waving a grand, ringed hand. “Your father has held the south quite firm. Orderly. I have thought to reward him, but it is hard to find anything fitting. Except for one thing. How about you stay in the court?”

“Your majesty,” you start, mind racing, trying to find the most subtle way to bring up the matches your family is currently discussing.

“Your majesty,” his wife cuts in, looking at you. “As your wife, and out of the love I bear you, I think we should be careful of the dogs that we bring into court, to save ourselves the pain of being bit when we find out later that they are wolves.”

You dip your head again, trying your best to smile. “My queen,” you say, making yourself as soft and sweet as you can. “Family Altaire has always had the phoenix as our sigil. We are naught but the crown’s loyal songbird.”

“Phoenixes burn, do they not?” She insists, cold.

“They simply rise from the flames, my queen,” you respond.

“Songbird, you say,” Septimus cuts in, clearly having tuned out everything you and the queen consort has just said. “Do you sing?”

“If it pleases you,” you say, dismay sinking in your stomach, though you’re careful not to let it show on your face.

“It does,” he responds.

You return home soon after, and recount the happenings back to your father over dinner.

Neither of you are surprised when the queen consort dies a couple weeks later, in what is announced to be an unfortunate carriage accident, but your hands still tremble when you open the King’s gold stamped letter.

You wear a red veil in your wedding, a morbid carmine that you explain to be the olde colors of Altaire, and you steel yourself when he lifts it from your face.

Plans change, but duty does not.

You will do this well, as you have done everything, as you will do everything.

How Septimus can be twice your age but half as mature is beyond you.

“My darling songbird,” he often says when he calls on you. “Won’t you sing me a song?”

You bite the side of your tongue, meeting the eye of an advisor across the room, and refrain from saying, don’t you have court to hold? Things to do? “If it would please you,” you echo, bound to this role you must play.

“It would,” he responds, lounging back, contented.

“My little nightingale,” he says one day, sauntering into your quarters, once again before he must hold court, evidently putting it off. “I long to hear one of your melodies.”

You look up from the tome you are reading on Tyrholm’s laws.

“My king,” you say, injecting some amount of falsified surprise into your voice, though you have been preparing for this. “Is it not time for the court to meet?”

He grumbles and huffs and scoffs like a child told to do chores; you’ve upset him with this mention.

“How about I sing you a song after?” You offer gently. “I shall even keep you company through the whole thing.”

He thinks on this for a second, and acquiesces, sighing largely, as he turns to head out of your quarters, and you stand to follow. You grin, teeth flashing at his back.

It is an anomaly, at first, your presence. And then it is a pattern, and lastly, a habit.

He hardly pays attention, usually looking at odd corners of the room while people address him before an advisor prompts him with a suggestion, and he waves at them to carry it out, everything going in one ear and out the other.

You watch this happen several times before you start chiming in with your own quiet suggestions. The first time you do, he is stunned into being the most attentive he’s been all afternoon. But you simply tilt your head and widen your eyes and offer the mild upturn of your lips, as guileless as can be. But he seems to come to much the same conclusion he always does: as long as it is not something he has to do, it’s all fine.

And so it continues.

“I would like some peaches,” he says one day at breakfast, pushing his heaping plate away from him. “It is well into season, and we have not seen any. Where are they?”

“The harvest hasn’t been kind in the Norfolk region,” you remind him, cutting a bite sized portion off his abandoned plate, loathe for it to be squandered like such. “The duke told us as much two weeks back. They haven’t sent any as of yet.”

“They will not send us any?” he asks, now enraged.

You look up in alarm, wondering what exactly has set him off.

“Send summons to him,” he says, grimly. “We will see if he still does not have any to send.”

The poor duke looks rather more haggard as compared to when you last saw him, bleary-eyed, no doubt, from the hard ride from his region to the castle.

“Your majesty,” he says, bowing deep before waving people forward with a slipshod looking crate. “The few peaches we have from this year’s poor harvest.”

Septimus peers into it.

“They are bruised,” he notes.

“Yes, your majesty,” the duke responds. “From the ride. My most sincere apologies.”

“Just this crate?” He asks dubiously.

“We have no more to spare,” the duke responds, looking desperate and cornered.

You sit forward, your stomach churning, worried that this is taking a turn for the worse. “Those will go well in a pastry,” you say, as evenly as possible. “They need to be soft. My hopes for you to see a better harvest soon, right, my dear?” You rush out, looking over at your husband.

“If you had this now, then where were they two weeks ago?” Septimus presses on, red rising in his face.

“We must eat too, my king,” the duke yells.

Septimus turns to an advisor. “I want every peach seized from Norfolk,” he says. “Send men now!”

You realize fairly quickly that this is not headed in any good direction, but when you stand to try and appease Septimus, the speed at which you do leaves you lightheaded, and you stumble lightly, gripping onto your seat weakly. He looks to you, alerted by your movement in his peripheral, and concerned by the way you sway. The nearby guards are momentarily distracted by this as well.

In that moment, the duke springs forward, brandishing a small knife as he leaps toward Septimus, and your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth, a wave nausea forcing your mouth shut as you watch helplessly as everything begins to unfold.

“You can’t,” he snarls, as he comes in closer, fearful and wild. There’s a scuffle, and you stumble back, a hand pressed to your chest as you dodge the brunt of guards rushing in, and Septimus yelling, and the duke fighting.

When the din quiets down, you peer around the crowd of Kingsguards to the duke, where he kneels, knife slipping from his numb fingers, impaled several times by Septimus’ wary guards’ swords.

You struggle to catch your breath.

“I want every man’s head from the Norfolk region who is here today,” Septimus says, cold. “Bring them in.”

“Who’s blood is that?” You ask, looking at the front of his silks, where an accusatory patch of blood sits. “Are you hurt? You should rest before you bring the men in.” You amend.

“It’s just a stain,” he says, curling his lip in disgust as he looks down at the duke.

You clap a hand to your mouth, and stumble away, stomach heaving out its contents.

Everyone looks at you in concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

You turn back, wide-eyed, mouth sour and still trying to catch your breath. “I’m pregnant,” you say quietly, and are quickly escorted out of the room before the Norfolk men are marched in.

He comes in your quarters that night, freshly changed. “A song, my dear?” he asks.

“My voice cannot,” you say, looking out your window, purposefully making it hoarser; it’s easy, bile-seared as it is. “Perhaps we should hire a bard.”

You’re not allowed to sit in on court anymore, for the sake of your safety and your unborn child’s safety, and you try not to harbor a seed of resentment towards it for this reason.

Your absence is both noted and felt, and you try to keep that from watering the anger that takes root in you.

You distract yourself with whatever you can, though your freedoms are more and more restricted the further along you are, and it eats away at your heart, shedding petals with every passing day.

You push your way out of your rooms one day, announcing that you intend to go see what is in the cards for your child to Septimus, so you can at least have a reason to step outside.

You survey the faces of everyone you pass by, wondering what they’re thinking as you brush through the echoing halls.

The mage rests a hand on your belly before she draws it back quickly, snatching it away as if burned.

“What is it?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“The end of all things,” the mage answers as your breath stills in your lungs. “Or,” she amends, closing her eyes and turning her face to the sun. “The beginning of them.” She opens her eyes. “You are an Altaire, are you not?”

“I am a Valmont now,” you say, devoid of everything.

“With the sigil phoenix,” the mage continues. “It’s so beautiful. Cycles on cycles, life and death, ashes and embers.”

“Don’t,” you hiss, thinking about what your predecessor once said.

You try to ignore the mage’s words, but as more things begin to happen, you grow increasingly more worried about the kind of child that a man like Septimus can sire paired with your own ability to excel.

If he were more capable, would his reign truly be prosperous? Or would it simply be more effectively terrible?

Several things become clear in pain; as all with disasters, there is only striking clarity on how to move forward: one step at a time.

You writhe in your bed, hair plastered to your temples with sweat; you push and scream and tear at your silk sheets and your mind races.

First, your child can never see the throne.

Second, you must be bolstered where Septimus falters.

Third, you were queen to Tyrholm first, and a mother second, and your priorities must reflect that.

It is what you owe.

“It is a girl,” the midwife says. “Congratulations, your majesty. Would you like to hold her?”

“Not yet, thank you,” you say, looking at your reflection in mirror at the corner of your room and grinning slow and sure, watching as your teeth show themselves, pearly inch by pearly inch.

You look feral, and you tremble.

PLOT IDEAS: ⇢ I think that it almost goes without needing to be said, but I would be excited to see which way she turns, if she turns. In her skeleton, it felt like there was almost an undercurrent of ruthlessness that ran through it, from keeping her own daughter at arm’s length, to being just angry enough to consider what might become of her husband in that moment, and in deciding if there was a need to see one successor, ah, handled, shall we say, to ensure the other’s success — and that shows me that not only her options are open and flexible, she’s willing to see them through. She, in my opinion, is at a crossroads between the slow condemning certainty of stagnation versus the unknowable risks of advancement. One way or the other, the winds of change are blowing, and they are oftentimes a fatal breeze for those on the wrong side of it. And while I do think she would be content to have died for the betterment of Tyrholm as a whole, pointlessness is hardly on her bucket list. ↳ A small, secondary point to say I especially am curious about who may cultivate her, bend her ear, try to influence her. Whether that’s to convince her of the efficacy of someone else (her included, if perhaps Justice is swayed) taking power, to keep her convinced to consolidate behind her husband, or push another successor’s agenda — no doubt all of the back and forth as people try to figure out her stance will be interesting.

⇢ The flavor behind their 👏 family 👏 drama 👏! With Septimus more and more unfit to rule, and not getting any younger, the race for a proper successor (her own daughter exempted, of course, for the good of their people) is on, coup or no coup. I’d like to see how a family dinner - or any family event, really - goes, with all those complex relationships at play, every single relationship taut as the strings on a zither, and oh, how the tension must strum between them. Everyone must seem like children to her, playing at politics, each too caught up in their own wants and needs, forgetting about the big picture: the people of Tyrholm. Her interests and obligations lie in the betterment of Tyrholm’s general welfare, and who are her options? A fifty-fifty gamble with her own daughter, an heir apparent too desperate for admiration (which a steadfast ruler does not make), and a groomed successor too caught up with the ghosts in their own vision to see the bigger picture a monarch needs to see. I wonder who she’ll cast her lot behind, if at all any, and what ends she will go to if her own daughter decides the other two no more fit to rule than themself. After all, the people do love her - and if the World were to ask, would the people not follow?

⇢ There’s a core of loneliness in her that’s masked by layers of regalia and obligation: stuck with a husband she does not love, a daughter she cannot love, and a lover she has determined she must not love. But on that, she doesn’t dwell, cannot dwell — there’s always something to be done, after all. There’s always something to oversee, a city to govern, people to placate, and in the end, there is little of herself left for her. The thing about monarchs being peerless is, well, they’re peerless. Her husband finds ways around it: going through wives like wine, interesting people all brought to court, cast into the role of entertainment, balls and feasts and revelry galore; in which she always takes part but does not partake, and I wonder if there will be someone who sees the queen in her high tower, and if they’ll bother to knock - and if they do, what it might mean to her.

CHARACTER DEATH: I’m comfortable with it!

WRITING SAMPLE.

She wonders if the courtiers think her vain, with the amount of time she spends looking into the mirror. Certainly, she can understand that if one was simply to only look and not see, her behavior appears vain. But it’s with a profound lack of admiration that she looks at her reflection with, and more an examination of what others may see when they look at her. She has spent so much time studying the quirks of her husband’s quick changing moods: the way that it so obsequiously darkens in anger, upturns in joy, scrunches in pain, slants in mockery. As such, she needs to know: does her face tell of the anger that roots itself so insidiously in the hollows of her chest? Does it speak of the way she wishes to live, but lives to serve?

It does not.

At least, it does not when she goes looking for it, and she cannot say whether or not she is well pleased by this. It is, at the very least, a small victory in the way she tries to differentiate herself from her husband, entwined as they are through simple affiliation.

Calliope has found, recently, that she has a desolate sort of beauty. Time has been a kind master to her in a way that it hasn’t been to her husband; as he grows in width and wrinkles, only the subtle tells of lines are present in her. But with all things that are too passed by the ravages of time, it is, admittedly, a little eerie. Things too well preserved tend to tell of an absence of life; such is the only way it can stand untouched, a beautiful spectre of a testament.

She turns away from her vanity, walking over to the map she has splayed out over her desk, the rolled corners of it weighed down by various books. She traces the area she knows the troops are being led to with a careful finger; the parchment is wearing thin, and one wrong move may split the map in two. Victory is not what is in question, only the aftermath.

She’s torn from her thoughts rather abruptly, as a sharp knock sounds at her door, and it opens without her beckon.

“The Emperor is back,” comes the harried response, before she can even ask what’s wrong.

“And the troops?” She asks, striding to exit her room.

“Mostly unharmed, they say.”

“Good,” she says briskly, though her furrowed brow hardly mirrors the sentiment, and sweeps out of her room without another word. No one stops her on her way to the reception hall, though the halls buzz with movement and whispers. They conveniently quiet when she comes near; the silence is more worrying than anger could ever be, but she doesn’t slow until she reaches the entrance to the reception hall. The Emperor is not there, but Septimus is, and he looks at her before he turns from her, and she does the same.

It happens often these days, but she has spent years making herself indispensable, cultivating a small following in his inner circle, enough that she mostly need not worry for her own head yet.

The makeshift Koldam crown greets her from its display box when she finds her way to the entrance hall, the bark of its twined twigs flaking with week-old blood; the Emperor’s blank stare greets her as well.

He is not warmly disposed towards her, but it’s hardly about her now, both of them focused on that little nest they’ve taken to calling a crown.

“Well fought,” she says, but the slant of her tongue means what have you wrought upon us?

He doesn’t respond, still looking at the crown, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t see a petulant child when she looks at him. She leaves the hall, heart dry and withering, the petals of hope for any amount of normalcy shredding.

EXTRAS.

⇢ I drew the house banner for the Altaire family before I realized that there was a slight overlap (the color gold) with Valmont colors, but here it is! (x)

⇢ HEADCANONS. ↳ ALTAIRE. They were not always the wealthiest family in Hightown, as her father is wont to remind her. Never forget that, he says. But never let anyone else remember, either. It is hard for most families, preoccupied as they are with their own going-ons, to remember a time that the Altaire’s were not at the forefront of the noble houses. But trace the thread back far enough, and it will show that which their family has worked so hard to cover: that before they were everything, they were nothing.

It is a long story that no one dares tell; to tell it is to give life to it, and that is dangerous for a family that would sooner people forget it. Calliope only knows the gist of it: an old name hence forgotten, covered with a new one picked to match the place they chose to live in, a fortune amassed through taking advantage of circumstances not unlike what threatens on the horizon now, made unfathomably bigger still by cultivating the right people, and then proceeding to grow until their roots choked out the husks of their competition, so naturally integrated that one might mistake them for having always been there.

There are subtle changes one can spot if one looks closely. Much like the rings left behind by the years in tree trunks, they cannot hide growth completely. Old banners still have the color red instead of their more recently adopted secondary, even though new ones are emblazoned with their covetous phoenix in grand gold filigree, like it’s always been that way, with only hints of their old colors left as a subtle reminder to themselves. But it never does to forget oneself completely, and the house motto remains, as it has, an idiom in an old tongue: 一叶知秋. A single leaf heralds the coming of Autumn. Know that which will come from a single sign.

↳ BEHOLDEN. On her seventh birthday, her parents give her a finely worked bangle that resembles one she’s seen her mother wear constantly, and she puts it on immediately. It is too big for her at the time, and periodically it falls off, but her parents remind her without fail about it. Much of her youth is spent picking it up and putting it back on, until she needs no more reminders to put it back on, and it becomes a habit, a comfort, even, to wear. Eventually, almost without her notice through the years, she grows around it, its ever-presence; as it forms to the curve of her wrist, her hand grows enough that it stops falling off.

She tries pulling it off once, when she’s 16 and just noticed it never falls off anymore, but it catches on the bones of her hand painfully and leaves her with naught but a welt for her efforts. The bangle has a name, her parents tell her the next day, when they see the red around her knuckles, and it is duty. It will come off in two ways: if she breaks herself to rip herself free of it, or if she breaks it to escape. She does not try it again, and it glints and jangles on her wrist as she walks the halls of Castle Tyrholm now.

↳ LIKE MOTHER... like daughter. It was harder than she expected, sometimes, holding herself away from her daughter. Even now, there is an affability to the World, a multifaceted, unnameable quality that is inherently lovable. But she cannot love her like that, cannot be a mother to her first without forgetting her responsibilities. To love singularly is to favor above all else; to love consumingly is to declare you hate all other things. With a prophecy weighing on her daughter’s shoulders, it would be asking her to choose a single life over the lives of all people of Tyrholm.

She doesn’t know how to love them without having to eventually make that choice, and chooses to abstain from it completely. For all that they are similar, hasn’t it been nurtured to bloom by anyone but her?

↳ SILKS. Dresses are to a queen as armor is to a soldier. When she was younger, she wore the most current fashion, in usually Valmont colors; back then, she had been ushered in hastily to a court that had known six other queens, and she had to make some sort of statement. These days, her dresses are, more often than not, in her own family’s colors and adorned with more metallic accents, reminiscent of armor.

↳ I’m out of time but thank you for reading to this point!! I know it was long and A Lot In General, so take care and good luck with the rest of the applications and acceptances

#accepted #accepted: the empress

0 notes

elysiumrp · 7 years ago

Photo

Congratulations SAWYER! You have been accepted as Triston Fitz. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

Can I just say that your application blew me away? I can’t wait to see your take on Triston played out for us on the dash. You clearly tapped into the emotional conflict that I tried to instill in his character whenever I wrote his bio, and I can’t help but be extremely excited that someone else has noticed the innerworkings and details of Triston and his personality. Your sample paragraph in particular gave me a full fleshing out of the version of Triston that you have identified, and I am in love with the various details that you’ve already added as you’ve branched off from his bio. He’s a conflicted vampire to say the least, and he’s a conflicted vampire in a very conflicted time at that, so Triston’s future is uncertain and up to you to create. I can’t wait to see it. Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Sawyer Age: 21 Timezone: PST Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level: As with any writer my activity will be completely dependent on how involved I get into the group (hopefully as much as possible right?). You can expect daily if not semi-hourly activity from me. I will be on the dash and have never recieved an activity warning in my collective years as a writer. (I don’t apply to groups that I don’t intend to put 100% of my effort into.) Anything Else: P.S It’s been a while since I have attempted Tumblr based RP so it may take me a little bit longer than usual to set up an account if I am accepted. Only because I will have to refresh on xKit and all that jazz. (I code my own layouts for Roleplayer.me, Tumblr and Aniroleplay so I am definitely well versed in the coding formats for Tumblr.) Just figured I should let you all know that. Hopefully that doesn’t chase anyone off of this app.

IC INFO

Character Name: Triston Fitz Why did you choose this character:

For me to explain why I chose Triston out of the slew of other available open males I will have to tell you a bit about myself. As long as I can remember I have always been fascinated with despair. Yes I know that is a damned awful thing for someone to say, but let me explain; To me despair is the quintessential foundation for absolutely all human interaction. It quite literally defines who we are. Think about it; What has shaped you more as an individual? Your happy moments or the moments where you sink so low in your own despair that you either have to sacrifice a part of yourself to continue or show that you have what it takes to overcome adversity and tribulation. So for mark number one I was helplessly drawn in to Triston’s included details. The fact that to him, protecting those he cares about is more important than even his own life. It would leave me ample room to establish that he would never change this about himself, but that it eats him alive because he also knows he can’t ever go back to the people he cares most about; His family. Triston Fitz truly seemed like the character that could fit my unique quirks. His story spoke to me, as a brother myself I understand completely that ultimate level of protection that is a fundamental part of his personality. At the same time this man who wants to protect and help keep people safe is also aware of his own ravenous hunger. He attacked a man just walking down the street, I can only imagine how deeply that must be ingrained into his psyche. It would be the perfect form of self-betrayal; here you have a man so devoted to protection that he has become a bodyguard of the supernatural locale ruthlessly devouring a man out of sheer unkempt desire. So your question was; Why did I chose this character? That much is simple; the character spoke to me on a level that none others have so far. Which is why I am here, applying to hopefully breathe life to what I perceived as one of the most emotionally complex characters in your roster. I feel that I myself would be a great writer for the role as the “emotionally complex, yet equally stoic” man is sort of my personal favorite role. Several of the characters I have loved the most have been mentally complex characters. * A list of some of my previous characters/roles I have filled. If the admins would like direct links to profiles they can request them and I will happily provide.

—- Nathaniel Schyler: An abusive, controlling uncle/doctor. His fame was employed to mask his dark tendencies. He was very much a “puppet master” type role.

Kurty-Kurt: Obviously this is my nickname for my lovable werewolf with cancer. He was very emotionally unstable and very powerful as a new turned werewolf. This character shared the paternal protective nature that Triston displays to the point that he had been seriously burned in his wolf form while trying to protect his wounded mother figure from a pyro-obsessed witch. This left his wolf hideously disfigured until the next new moon and even carried over to his human form in the form of burn damage to his lungs.

Dominic Rilai: Dominic was one of the first roles I ever took on in the “supernatural” verses. A Celt turned vampire in a religious ceremony that promised to make him the ultimate warrior for his people. The ultimate protector, little did he know he wasn’t the only one of his kind. This role I feel is especially worth noting as Dominic was an vampire from around Triston’s era. (the mid to late 1500’s) His age granted him a healthy amount of power so I had to exercise the restraint of a character that had this power in the past. I know that this often can be one of the main concerns for admins when accepting applications for older more experienced character roles. How did that spiderman line go? “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Deucalion: Yes that’s right. I played none other than the Demon Wolf himself. The best part? People loved the unique way I established detail. Seeing as Deucalion is blind unless in his wolf form (in which he sees in a way similar to echo location it seems) I had to come up with different more textile ways to depict my details. Instead of focusing on what my character may have seen I focused on what he could feel. Even going as far as to clearly depict that I could proficiently write characters with adverse situations/conditions.

Eobard Thawne: The Reverse Flash. This role lasted for nearly 3 and a half years before I retired it as the RPG he was a part of fell apart due to a group of clique writers.

Abbadon: The Lord of The Abyss. A deity for a god-verse RP. Abbadon was the master of secrets and the abyss. He was constantly plotting and establishing connections that could give him advantageous opportunities.

Describe your plan for them:

I plan only to do my absolute best to embody what I felt your depiction of Triston Fitz was and to grow more with the community in hopes of forming connections that spark great writes and drive evolution of not just Triston, but any and everyone who would like to interact with us (in the event I am chosen to be his writer ofc). The most ideal way for things to work out would be that I get accepted, set up the profile and then jump head first into meeting and greeting the rest of the community. I’m a bit of a ‘go-getter’ so you could expect me to be one of the people constantly driving to connect to the other characters and writers. I’d love to eventually depict Triston so well that the admins themselves will be happy they chose me to be his writer. As a writer I am very driven by the story, I want to do anything I can to ensure that Triston does his part to help the story progress and bring the community more and more interesting and compelling interactions with this amazing character. He offers so much potential that I was actually quite surprised he was still listed as open. I want to tap into the despair that I feel lies within Triston’s heart and use it to flesh out even more of his background and story as he and I progress with the group and it’s plots. Truly I am in high hopes that I have finally found a new place to write and share my creative musings from a personal standpoint. Reading through EVERYTHING on your navi leads me to believe that the admins have experienced some of the unfortunate events that I have so they can perhaps offer a more unified and stable community for me to write in and partake of. The fact that their is an anti-clique rule is honestly amazing in my mind. Most groups don’t give a rats ass if their writers only write with literally 4 people in a group of 30+. So again, for the character I plan on putting my best foot forward and engaging with the other writers to help do my part to shape the group and the community we are establishing together as a whole. I’d like to depict that even though Triston’s area of employment may make people assume that he would be a big, daft jarhead bouncer type of man that you can’t judge a book by it’s amazon reviews. I want to open people’s eyes to the inner struggle of a man who lost it all and knows that despite how truly he desires it that he will never be able to get back the one thing that gave his life true meaning; His family. He is such a compelling and driving character, but I also feel he would do his best to depict his image as the opposite. I would love to highlight the contrasts in his personality. Almost as if there were two Tristons; The one that died the night of the attack and the one that lived to never tell the tale. These two beings are at constant war with themselves inside of him; He wants to protect, but needs to destroy (feed). He is a beautiful disaster, a brave warrior and one hell of a brother. At the end of the line that is what I want to do with him.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the initial reveal of the supernatural world:

Initially Triston wasn’t certain what to feel. The veil that had kept most of their lives intact had finally been pulled back. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was the greatest thing ever to happen to his kind or if it was truly the beginning of the end. Man kind was never known for it’s accepting nature. Could the humans really accept his kind? Was there any hope that the polarity of the two could level out? Or had this reveal merely started the clock to the end? How long would it be until it started? The hate crimes and targeted oppression of his kind were all but inevitable. His protective nature would drive him to be off-put at first, the sheer uncertainty of the seemingly instantaneous reveal of the supernatural world would certainly be something that would be the talk of the ages. He only hoped that this wasn’t the calm before the storm. Or much worse the eye of the hurricane, surrounded by the storm as it rages around them. Triston would be uncertain, the endless stream of questions brought up by his long life would rush through his mind like the torrential current of the sea. He has been among man in secret for a majority of his long life. Five hundred years is plenty of time for him to have seen the true nature of man. To destroy what they don’t understand…

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the current state of the world, and how it impacts them as an individual:

Triston’s original uncertainty had come to fruition. Within the short duration and multiple collapses of the councils the humans had already established a ridiculous rule to prevent supernaturals from gathering. Segregation at it’s absolute most raw. The ways of man that he spoke of before? These were those ways. He knew all too well from his seemingly endless years on the world of man that the peace would not last. As if it had ever existed in the first place. There were problems of course with everything, but if there was anything Triston had learned from his long life it was how to adapt and survive. While the others were now forced into hiding he had already been in hiding; from himself, from the humans and even from his family. The rebellion gave him at least a minute glimmer of hope for the supernaturals en masse. At least they hadn’t given up and succumbed to this oppression. They still were uniting, even if the union was founded on the blood and bones of their friends and families. The unfortunate souls that were lost to the unavoidable conflict between the two worlds. Triston personally would face a much deeper confliction now. Of course he is pro supernatural, but does that have to inherently make him anti-human? Why did everything always have to be black and white. He was never good with absolutes, Hell the man couldn’t even bring the two parts of himself together; What hope did he have of trying to maintain the last shreds of decentsy and civility among the two castes? For now Triston would stick to what he knew; Protecting the Merlot and it’s denizens from the harsh reality that was encircling them all.

Para Sample:

The wind blew harshly against his cheeks as his footsteps carried him down the roads of the city he now called home. Triston had made a habit of walking a specific route every day that most would have wrongly assumed was to keep his toned physique up to par. In truth though Triston hoped by at least walking the streets, showing his face that he could open the eyes of the two sides of the broiling feud and show them that it was possible to live among eachother peacefully. In his mind it didn’t fully make sense, but he felt the need to do it regardless. He took the time on these walks to observe his city and the people of it; doing whatever he could in order to learn the current state of affairs. Triston wasn’t one to directly confront someone for information, his time as a bodyguard had show him that patience and a listening ear accomplish much more than muscle and brawn ever could. Just as he was getting lost in his observations he would collide with another male, the force of his spaced out walking apparently enough to knock the other man’s groceries all over the sidewalk. “What the hell was that?!? Watch where you’re going punk!” The other would holler out in spite towards Triston, the tone in his voice rang through and through with aggression. Triston had only moments to assess the situation. He stooped low and collected the other man’s groceries, returning them to the other man immediately upon standing to his feet.

His toned arm extended the bag as he spoke his apology, “Yeah, That was my bad. No dodging that, Sorry man. Have a nice day.” His arm remained there for several seconds as the other male stood bewildered by the sincerity in his voice. Triston would even let the edges of his lips curve upward, forming a light smile that accompanied his apology almost perfectly. The Merlot certainly taught him how to diffuse a potentially violent situation as quickly and with as little confrontation as possible. The higher ups didn’t like it when they received complaints about violence among their patrons. That was after all why they paid him to do the job. He was big, he was the personification of the golden boy. His smiles charmed vipers and his words calmed the raging seas, five hundred years in the making Triston had become a master of speechcraft. The man finally collected himself and accepted his groceries back before heading on his way, a content look on his face masked how terrible the man must have felt for reacting so abrasively before. Triston simply tucked his hands into his pockets and continued his walk. Another conflict avoided, another person shown compassion and understanding. That’s how Triston would take his stand in everything that was going on, he just wanted everyone to try and coexist. They had done it for so long without any issues except for the occassional upset, but you don’t judge the entirety of the supernatural worlds based on the actions of specific individuals. There were good people here too, some that didn’t always have the choice of becoming what they are now. Hell, even he didn’t remember any vampire appearing before him. Everything from that day was a haze lost in his adrenaline fueled need to protect his brother from certain injury. Could the humans really judge them so harshly? Hadn’t the humans been waging wars long before the supernaturals were even publicly acknowledged as a reality? The entirety of that situation just left him feeling more desolate than before. One thing was certain, Triston would do whatever it took to keep those he cared for safe. From anyone or anything that tried to harm them; Human or not.

At the same time Triston had been fighting with his conflicted heart again; one side wanted everyone to try and restore the balance that once existed despite how fragile it was, the other knows all too well that any connections that could be made can just as easily be broken or more likely stolen away from you. These damned cynical thoughts plagued his thoughts immensely, he reached to the bridge of his nose and pinched it tightly. He shook his head and tilted his head higher. “Just gotta keep going. You owe it to them. You’re a survivor and you know it. Keep them at hands distance, dont get attached and you’ll be fine.” How were they ever supposed to fix their situation if they couldn’t even agree on what the issues were? He shook his head again before rounding the corner, the inviting visage of The Merlot looming just ahead. He plastered back on his broken smile and spoke to himself again, “Just another day in Hell right?” It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his job, he just didn’t see it being his final stop. Sure he had settled down for now and tried to establish at least something worth holding on to, but he wasn’t one for hopeless optimism in a world of cold reality. Eventually he knew something would likely drive him to continue his wandering. He wasn’t sure if he was searching for a new meaning, a new start or a new life, but one thing was absolutely clear; He could never, ever go back.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

The only thing I would like to request is input on the app regardless of acceptance or not. As I am returning to tumblr RPG after a decent break the ability to improve or progress further is all I ask for in return for my time. So please let me know if there is anything you guys have to offer as input. Positive or negative; It will be used constructively to help improve my writing and/or future apps.

P.S I am definitely capable of writing much more than I did for the sample. I actually prefer novella writing as I feel it lets me flesh out more distinctive and concise details. I tried to stick a bit closer to the lighter end of para for this as to not come off as a try hard. If you would like a more lengthy sample to get a better idea of my writing ability please don’t hesitate to say so!

#accepted #lsrpg #lsrp #supernatural rp #vampire rp

1 note · View note