#it/its pronouns are beautiful and powerful and i wouldnt have it any other way

[transgenderfivepebbles]

it/its users are so powerful actually. shoutout to all it/its users. you are like the sun and the sky and a beautiful song. whether you are human or not, no matter why you use these pronouns, your identity blurs the lines of what it means to be human, welcoming those who were once pushed out and freeing those who choose to stay elsewhere. your very existence is an act of courage and rebellion. you are all so real and so wonderful. thank you it/its users

[wqk-k]

Obey Me Brother react to an idol!MC

 hi this is my first set of headcanons for the brothers  👉👈 i apologize if the brothers are ooc in this, though i tried my best jksajdufhj. i hope you enjoy!

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Warning(s): Cursing

Reader Pronouns: They/Them (4A)

Background: MC is a very popular idol in their world, best known for their impressive singing skills, music and the amount of rewards they have recieved because of their talents. Surprisingly, they aren’t only popular in their world, but in the Devildom and Celestial Realm as well.

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Lucifer

since lucifer didnt actually read who you were on the paper that had blown to his feet, he had no idea you were an idol at first

but after couple days at RAD, he noticed that random demons kept coming up to you in between classes and didnt leave until the next class started

most of them had come up to you with a pen and some paper asking for your autograph

he was just like ??? 

after a while of this happening luci decided to just ask you straight up why they were coming up to you like that and you had told him you were an idol back in the human realm

that explains it

he honestly doesnt mind

if people start hating on you in public, he’ll honestly just shoot them a death glare and it works

so damn well

he got too much pride to deal with those underlings

if you start working on music/mv projects that you left off on in the human realm (like shooting mv or singing) he will absolutely rent you a recording booth or fuck, even a whole ass theatre if you needed it

sometimes he likes to sit in the recording booth and listen to you sing for a bit before returning to his stacks of mammon’s bills 

v proud of you dont get him wrong

but he will make sure you’ve done all your homework first LMAO 🛌

Mammon

when mammon first found out you were an idol he started digging through boxes that had been in his closet

after what seemed like hours he finally found the box he was looking for and he started to dig through it

he pulled out an old camera that levi gave him a couple hundred years ago bc he said he didnt need it

mammon had the best idea ever, he could sell pictures of you to your fans for at least 10,000 grimm each.

surprisingly it worked

like really well

so well that you found out

you confronted him about it, saying that you find hella uncomfy with him snapping pictures of you at random times. not only that but it was an invasion of your privacy

despite him earning so much grimm, he agrees to stop but keeps some of the pictures to himself to look at when he misses you 

if you get hate in public he’ll turn into his demon form and scare the person away, maybe scaring you in the procees but apologizes right away if he does

if you start working on music/mv projects he’ll offer to help you shoot mvs or record you singing if you need the help

just make sure he gets some credit for helping you

but he genuinely thinks you look amazing in anything, like anything

you could be wearing a big bird cosplay and he’ll think you look breathtaking

gets you to model w him sometimes

Leviathan

wait you look really familiar

really really familiar

you almost look and sound like that one really popular human idol that hes simped for time and time again

wait

oh shit

v embarrassed when he finds out it is actually you and gets really nervous when hes talking to you

is the demon asking for your autograph

but you have no idea how much power you have over this man

you could tell him to come out of his room and he’d come out with ease, no protesting, no nothing

may ask you to record a ringtone for him for when he wakes up

even after months of you two knowing each other, he still gets flustered when you start talking to him with your stupid cute ass eyes and your perfect hair and your perfect voice and your perfect-

yeah you get the point AKJSDKLASFBG

if you get hate in public he will deadass growl at the person before escorting you to your favorite ice cream place

if you start working on music/mv projects he will be by your side 24/7

he wants to see the god/ess themselves at work

hes like your personal butler for the time youre working on the projects and its adorable

hes bby

Satan

when he finds out youre an idol he will 100% voulenteer to help you write lyrics for your next song

but besides that, like luci, he really doesnt mind

he hears some other demons talking shit about you after art class and he’ll be angy as usual, but after stomping off and accidentally bumping into you he just

turned into puddy??

idk what it was but it was something abt they way your hair was a lil messed up and looking at him like that wish a small embarrassed look

just wow

every ounce of anger just evaporated while you apologized over and over again because the face he was making made him look like he was angry for some reason 

when he snaps back into reality he says its cool but then asks if youd like to go to the library w him because honestly youre his safe haven now

sometimes he asks you to hum a tune for him when hes reading

if the demons start hating again, you may need to hold him back KJASNDJFG 

if you start working on music/mv projects, again, will voulenteer for helping with lyrics

if you already have the lyrics down he’ll review them and give constructive critisisim if needed

or he’ll just write every lyric himself and you can judge it after hes done

Asmodeus

is not surprised at all

hes actually heard some of your songs and damn id he doesnt have them on his “on repeat” playlist on devilfy

he thinks you have an outstanding voice, not only that but youre a gorgeous lookin thing

asmo likes to hit on you a lot because he likes to see that flustered look on your face but he would never over your boundaries

he wouldnt want to be over the internet bc he made one of the most praised artists in devildom (thats not even a demon) angry

asmo doesnt want to be cancelled yet JKSJKDGFUA

but seriously, he thinks youre amazing

like really amazing

there like no lust involved in his admiration for you he just geniunely thinks youre cool

but he does think you look amazing 24/7

will ask you to model things for him for devilgram

if you get hate in public, he’ll hold your hands and shower you with compliments and tells you to ignore them

if you start working on music/mv project he will insist on doing backup vocals or being a backup dancer

or like the head backup dancer or whatever theyre called

is like your personal stylist wherever you go as well

along with that he can also help you come up with a beat for your song if you need one, he is more than happy to help someone like you

Beelzebub

he honestly thinks youre really cool

asmo showed him one of your songs before and thought it sounded really catchy

not only that, you sounded beautiful, almost like you were actually from the celestial realm, consider him a fan

so when you showed up for the new exchange program he was surprised but got really giddy

was one of the demons who asked for your autograph

you gave him a sweet smile after he asked and he just- melted

man down man down

will want to spend lost of time with you and take you to ristorante six on fridays as his treat

you usually end up paying though which he feels really guilty about but you tell him its fine

youre an idol who is loaded to the chest, youve got nothing to lose KLSKADJHF

if you get hate in public he’s also the type to death glare but people dont really hate on you in public when youre w him bc he has a naturally scary aura

lowkey thought you wouldnt like him at first :(

if you start working on mv/music projects he’ll start cooking you meal and making sure you get enough water

will absolutely cook your favorite meal- or any meal in fact- if you request it

if you dont request anything he’ll just wing it and make something he think you’ll like kjskdhsf

Belphegor

couldnt care less  🧍

he thinks your voice is pretty nice tho

hears beel listening to your music once and agrees w him on you having a really nice voice

lowkey sing him to sleep

like its super cute

plus he thinks youre gorgeous?? like wow you rlly pretty

once tried rubbing your face bc he thought you were wearing makeup but when nothing came up on his thumb he muttered a small “wow” and hugged you

it was the cutest thing ever ohmy god KJSJDSIF

ever since that day hes obtained a habit of rubbing your face when he finds you stunning or at random moments

if you get hate in public he will literally murder the person?? but in like an alleyway or something

he’ll say something like “wait here” and walks toward a dark area to do his thang

when he comes back he’s covered in this red shit and you worry for him but he just glosses over it and takes you into a pillow shop LMAO

he is v protective over you

if you start working on mv/music projects he’ll occasionally help out but most of the time he’s sleeping so he doesnt really care 

sometimes he’ll give beat/lyric suggestions or help flim the mv but thats it  🧍  

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[alcttass-blog]

 Is that KYLIE JENNER?! No it’s just ALETTA ANTOUN. From our interview we have heard that the TANTALIZING is apparently a SOCIALITE AND INFLUENCER who’s been living a lavish lifestyle in LAS VEGAS with 67.1 M followers! Now that they’ve signed a contact to pricelesshqs fans will be ecstatic to see them on screen. But rumor has it they are hard to deal with as they’re FINICKY, IMPETUOUS, OBSTREPEROUS. Fortunately for us we’ve heard they’re actually EFFULGENT, COMPASSIONATE, VEHEMENT.  Let’s see how they survive our show while they arrive in the luxurious life of pricelesshqs!

hi hello !! im gianna and this is my angel love aletta !! i kind of rearranged her bio to fit so ?? if things dont make sense its my stupid ass fault asdfgh . on another note im super excited to jump into this and if you want to plot give this a heart or message me !! 

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼

full name  : aletta josephine antoun. nickname : aj, alet, letty. age : twenty one. birthday  : february sixteenth, nineteen ninety eight thus making her an aquarius. gender / pronouns : cisfemale / she and her. sexual orientation : heterosexual. romantic orientation : heteroromantic. spoken languages : english, italian, spanish. hometown  : las vegas, nevada. parents  : carmine gwyar and natalia antoun  . carmine  is  the founder of karma ( casino ) and carmine hotel , two million dollar businesses that are spread throughout not only las vegas, but the rest of the states. her mother is an retired model who happens to be an author that just published the third book to her series ‘the others’, an dystopian novel. siblings  : apollo bennett gwyar,  claudio emanuel antoun, atlas james gwyar, natasha maeve gwyar, angelo cyrus antoun, julius sebastian antoun.  goals  : to live fully. tropes  /  personality  :  the effervescent  ,  the rich party girl  ,   the globetrotter  ,  should of been business mogul , the icarian , the lover of all things beauty. 

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂

gwyar , means “gore” or “spilled blood, bloodshed” in old welsh ; a definition that runs deeper than words written on faded pages , and instead carved themselves in human flesh. the name spreads silent fear across the streets of las vegas .. entangles itself within the eyes of the locals while being drowned out by the drunken happiness of tourists . spilling blood is what the gwyar’s have done for generations , from the moment diego gwyar’s foot landed on the broken sidewalks of las vegas it was said blood washed over the city like a storm . the family , they are tied into an lifestyle that screamed of violence , drugs , but most importantly power . no matter who’s face it stared at, it always had a habit of filling your lungs and causing you to drown in it .

aletta josephine was birthed to swim in the danger , to succeed . her father’s business was her legacy , his ties were her responsibilities . she was to fall in line , to make her daddy proud . and for a while , she did . she played the part, did her part . watched from the sidelines , included herself when she had to , she did it all . aletta drowned in the sensation of having such a power that it made those around her drop to their knees and beg . at sixteen she felt holy , at eighteen she felt sick to her stomach.  

the lifestyle was a high , sent her emotions playing  a game of how far can you drop once you hit your high . she should of felt blessed , protected , privilege , mighty . but all she wanted to do was run .. her brother use to tell her, “ letty, you cant have the highs without the lows .. especially with this.” it took a long time for her to understand that the diamonds that sat on her neck , the cars that sat in her driveway , the clothes that mountain her closest came with the blood , tears , the pain. she could not be the mob bosses daughter , without the mob boss.

at seventeen , she broke away from her fathers grasp . decided to chase her passion with hope that the darkness from her father would not follow . her family should her mixed reactions , splitting into two directions ; her mother spilled of happiness. excited to think of an future for her child where she was alive , healthy , living her life the way she wanted to .. and her father ? decided that if you did not stand with the business, his choices, that you did not stand with him. he made her choose, and so she did. she jumped into the influencing industry before launching aletta beauty , a dream that turned into an empire ..

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

crazed oceans swimming under neath sun kissed skies , the soft smell of vanilla dancing across exposed skin , gentle nudes blending into hard oranges,  peach vodka lingering on plump lips , warm orbs drowning in dark features , acrylic nails tapping anxiously , gold jewelry sitting on long fingers ,  cursive tattoos carved into ribs , quiet cries drowning in a dark sky , thunder distracting worried minds , affectionate touches , losing yourself in others for the sensation of warmth , loud music drowning out sorrows , happiness banging on brick walls for freedom , light giggles in the dead of the night , smooth lips pressed to bare skin , fingers interlocked with another , a constant craving to be loved dipping into skin , blood dripping down like water drops, soft lips on faceless bodies, sun kissed skin becoming on with sandy beaches, bold moans in the backseat of her car, simple shaped necklaces siting between collar bones, blunts between glossy lips, tired hands editing for hours on hours, stamped passports, white toes in clear ocean waters.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓮��𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂

to lurking eyes , the brunette tends to catch ditzy vibes and shallow tendencies . labels as such usually tend to hold some kind of truth, but when it comes to aletta? there’s more that meets the eye than assumptions from afar. her feet run on carelessness, blood intertwined with impulsiveness ; her wands wrap around your throat and for odd reason you cannot help but fall in love with the sensation. ebullient in human form , a crazed ocean that pulls you in. you want to lose yourself in her : her boisterous chatter in the sea of friends in an melody to your ears , and when the sun lowers and the bass of music dances in the air her giggles laced with vodka lingers. it’s said that the sound itself is intoxicating. like, for some reason, whether its her light in your lungs or her darkness around your throat, you cant let her go. she strives to be good, to be kind . but she is a child who was induced with happiness and then slowly picked at , lost innocence , witnessed monsters with human faces and so she comes to understand she will not always be good nor kind. she will be hard to read at times, hard to please. some nights, she may tell you about all the way she loves you and the next? she’ll turn away. and despite it all, she’ll still want you to be there for her in the morning. she needs meaningful bonds with others, needs to feel like if one day she disappeared people would miss her. wouldnt be able to live without her. she wants to feel important. she believes in loving yourself, being kind to yourself. and so, she tries not to drown for everyone. its a hard task though, considering she gets attached easily . she wants you , she needs you , and then she gets scared. she’s passionate, feels the world around her on a level that most do not understand. and it makes her scattered? she can ride the highs, but sometimes she has to ride the lows to. she is a lover, will give you her all. put in the time and the effort. it makes her affectionate ; affectionate touches are what she lives for. not just romantically, but platonically too. she likes to goof around, wants to fill everyone around her with light. wants to save everyone. is an hard worker, ambitious, likes having something she can put her energy into and conquer. sometimes her work ethic gets a little out of hand. but at the end of the day, she is her fathers daughter ; and it bleeds through. she an be stubborn, jealous . she can be hurtful, even selfish. but she is constantly trying to overcome it.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

she a few of her other siblings have took her mothers last name instead, making it easier for them to stand in the media without the prying. but regardless, she is a gwyar no matter if she changes her name or not. 

she had been a daddy’s girl, from the moment she opened her eyes she was drawn to him. her mom would tease that she loved him more, and though that was never true her father was without an doubt her favorite parent.

when she parted ways, he decided that she no longer deserved the connection they once shared ; he cut her off. not financially, she was and still is gifted all of her luxuries. her part in the company still transferred into her account, she could still reach out to her mother for cash if needed. but the tenderness? the warmness? it disappeared. he refused to even look at her in her eyes.

she is highly protected , constantly has her siblings and what they call ‘bodyguards ‘checking in on her since she moved from their family house ; and even now you will see strange men whom seem like they were pulled out of the secret service drop in on her.

her eldest brother apollo, in more ways than one took on that father figure roll for aletta. being opposed to his fathers treatment, he stepped in. she has an appreciation for him that runs deep.

despite her being insanely close to apollo, aletta and her twin have a bond that no one can touch. with them, it has always been us against the world. she would die for any of her siblings, but for her twin? she’d kill for them without hesitation.

her want to live to the fullest point, has come from seeing the life being drained from others. she does not ever want to see herself in that position. so she promised herself she would never.. she’d live impulsively, foolishly, carelessly .. but regardless, she’ll live.

traveling is the one thing she knows will fill her heart, to see the world and capture all the things that it has to offer will not be an opportunity she misses. it’s why she found herself really enjoying the life of touring .

one important thing about her is that she craves meaningful bonds with others, she likes to feel like if one day she disappeared that people would miss her? would be lost without? she just wants to feel important.

she spent a lot of her summers in italy with her brother, which is why she is fond of the language.

aletta beauty is much so kylie cosmetics asdj how original ? i know.

i see her being kind of an ?? rihanna in the beauty industry and a david dobrik in the youtube ! sitting on the line of sis really did that with her beauty line and i love that bitch when it comes with being an influencer. 

despite being the youngest , her father swore she was going to be the one to take over his business  . his plan was to always allow the twins to take over . which is why it hit him so hard when she refused to.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

♡ wanted connections page ! 

and in case none of those catches your eyes, a list of generic plots !!!

♡ protective friendship, friends with benefits, close friends, old friends, distant friends, ex friends, ex friends with benefits, cousins, hardly related cousins, family friends, childhood friends, friendly competition, rivals, models who model for her line, artist she collabs with a lot, artist who have wrote a song for her, artist she has wrote for, frenemies, one night stands, summer flings, friends with lingering feelings, one sided friendships, one sided relationships, people who have used her, pr friendships, pr relationships.

[decadentrpg-blog]

WELCOME EMILY, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF HELOISE DELACOUR

Admins Note: Heloise was certainly a difficult choice to make but after much assessment, I want to say that I absolutely adore what you’ve brought to the table! From build up of her background to every little historical reference that was placed within your application, it cohesively created this duality that Heloise has! I’ve enjoyed every interaction she has as well as the clarity and rationale behind her thinking! Your faceclaim request for Virginia Gardner has been approved. Congratulations on your acceptance again, please make sure to head your way to the checklist and submit your account within the next 24 hours!

Out of Character

Name / Alias: Emily

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Twenty-two

Timezone: GMT.

In Character Application

Full Name: Heloise Delacour

Sexuality: Lesbian.

You like girls. No, that’s wrong. You love girls. You love the smoothness of their skin. You love their gentle curves, their bodies like oceans, refreshing and divine. You love stroking their hair as you lie between sweat-soaked sheets, curling it around your fingertips. You love sharing lipstick shades so it won’t get too messy when you kiss and the sound beaded dresses make when they hit the ground. Most of all, you love who you become around them. Bursting at the seams with euphoria, without a trace of shakiness in your footsteps, you unveil the creature you fought so hard to become - self-assured and valiant. You always slipped into her without thinking about it, knowing instinctively, that this was right. This was who you were supposed to be.

Gender/Pronouns: Cis-female, she/her

Hogwarts House:  Gryffindor.

The hat was adamant. They wanted you in Gryffindor. They wanted you to learn to harness your own roar, the find power in your sort of bravery - perhaps even to tame the brasher instincts of your peers, to calm the storm inside of them. Not every kind of bravery favours the bold, the defiant, the loud. There are different kinds of bravery. The courage to carry on when the chains around your neck drag you to the ground. The strength to try and try and try. The valour in turning yourself into an anchor, a steady weight for the rest of the world to ground themselves on. There are all sorts of bravery in this world, each as useful, each as needed, as the last. Children, yourself included, see so much, but so little at the same time.

You didn’t glimpse the potential in yourself. You wouldn’t for many years yet.

But the hat knew.

You pleaded for Hufflepuff, knowing you’d be able to carve a home out of the house. The world underestimated badgers, sneering at their perceived lack of intelligence, wit or ambition. You didn’t see that at all. You saw steadiness, a bedrock to build a person upon. It wasn’t a leap of faith. But society couldn’t be built around those who flew. Someone had to be waiting, down below, rooted to the earth, ready to catch falling angels.

The hat laughed.

“Better be…” Panic rose in your chest, a knot tightening inside of you. “GRYFFINDOR.”

They weren’t unkind to you. But you were the fawn in the pride of lions, the hovering figure in the background, the mute who never could make herself heard. Years later, with your personhood more fully attached, half of you wistfully wishes you could go back and do it better. Do it again. And yet, in your heart, you know there’s no value in looking backwards. You must journey on.

Head canons:

Trigger warnings for violence, war, alcoholism and mentions of abuse.

I. la petite fille

Your father - and you only have the confidence to say this now you’re a fledgling, grown to use her own voice - always cared far too much about what people thought. Cream of French society, darling of the elite, a career-hungry politician intent on climbing the ladder. Ironically, the sunshine in your soul can be traced directly back to him. And yet, where yours is woven into the very essence of your being, a warm touch to steady a storm, an easiness to still a monster, a brightness to diminish the darkness, his is a mask, a choking falseness. It was that, more than anything else, that scared you. He changed before your very eyes - shaking hands and kissing cheeks one second - to plotting behind their back the next. Nothing about him was real. He slipped between your fingers, never a solid thing to hang onto.

(The feeling, you know, is mutual. You were a grand disappointment. Too timid to follow in his footsteps and too honest to lie. You’re mostly strangers now, each unable to understand the other).

Your mother you know a little better. An English rose, she fell for your father’s charms one summer, a fling that never was supposed to turn into a marriage. You were the bump that interrupted those plans, the shame that would have befallen her good name. Both parties were hastily married and that was that. You’ve always wondered if she blamed you for it. Always been too afraid to ask. Your mother, you know, was miserable, far far away from home, shackled to a man she barely liked, forced to play the part of politicians wife. When she played it well, there was harmony in the household. But if she slipped up…all hell broke loose. And her, with her love of expensive wine and flirting with other people’s husbands, did mess up. You never witnessed the war inside of your father unfold, merely lived its after effects. Silently, you’d pull a blanket over your mother’s quivering frame and give your father his favourite cigar.

(As you grew, you became rather good at predicting the ticking time bombs. So before the storm ravaged, you nearly always scrambled to safety, grabbing your teddy bear and retreating to the back of the wardrobe. You never found a secret world in the back of there, but you did find safety - and that was a comfort in and of itself).

Peacemaker, your father would sometimes say with affection, your mother with scorn. You’d gulp and nod silently, opinions kept to yourself. Over time, a survival instinct became a pattern and from a pattern into a habit. Such things are hard to shake.

Ii. maison choisie

Your mother hailed from London’s big smoke and your father made Paris his home, so you’ve always been accustomed to cities - you could even say it’s in your blood. But nowhere ever felt like home more than your Grand-Mere’s home a stone’s throw from Amiens. Reluctantly, with great effort, your father would make the bi-annual privilege there, dragging your mother in tow. You never had to be forced, you galloped ahead, a country girl at heart. There was something so liberating about Amiens, especially in the summer, where the line between the fields and sky was impossible trace and wildflowers bloomed. Your grandmother was kinder than your parents, the only one who could pull you out of your shell - but even then, only when you were alone. More a hedgewitch than practiced individual, she used to set you upon a stool as she practiced her potions, entrusting you with the responsibility of stirring from time to time. She was the one who taught you that magic had more than rigid purpose, that it would be as beautiful as life itself.

She also taught you a second, valuable lesson.

You remember the very first muggle you met. You remember them because they waved joyfully as you stepped into the town square - and knew your father by reputation, your Grand-Mere by face. Your father, ever the diplomat, turned his face away, pretending not to have heard. You, bashfully, didn’t meet their eyes either. It was only later, when your parents had been placated by a bottle of wine or two, that your Grand-mere took you aside.

“Why didn’t you wave back?” Dumbstruck, you look for somewhere to scurry away and hide. Gently, she took your hand into her own. “I won’t hurt you chérie.”

“Maman et Papa didn’t.” And you never were awfully comfortable around strangers, bashfulness seizing control of you.

“They were wrong to.” Bopping your nose, your grand-mere drew giggles from you. “They didn’t wave because he was…” her voice strained over the English word. “A muggle. Have they told you not to talk to muggles?”

You shook your head.

“Don’t let them. There will be some, especially when you go to school, who tell you not to talk to witches who have muggle parents. You musn’t let them order you around. No one is any better or lesser because of the blood in our veins. Even muggles…they’re not witches. But they’re not the enemy. After all, if I never spoke to a muggle, I’d never speak to anyone! Never forget that.”

You promised you wouldn’t. You haven’t since.

Iii. armes de guerre Ultimately, it was war that drove you away from your beloved France and your cherished Grand-mere, who refused to stand down and flee when the German troops overran Amiens. You like to imagine she would not take a cowards way out, apparating whilst the others were rats in a barrel, trapped by the advance. You like to imagine she fought to defend her farm with every trick up her sleeve. You like to imagine she remained strong and valiant until the very end. But you’ll never know. The war snatched her from you, her story lost to the wind. All you had left was an owl from the French ministry and the personal condolences of the French Minister La Magie.

It took you a very long time to summon the courage to return. And even then, you couldn’t do it alone. Kenshin stepped in without being asked, the year after you left Hogwarts, stability at your side as you confronted the ruins of the happiest parts of your childhood. Violence had ravaged the landscape, scarring those who survived. Left with nothing, you saw the hallows of hunger in their sunken cheeks and poverty wrecked on their bones. Beauty had perished and been left to die. But in the ruins of her farm, you saw all was not lost. The Peach trees were still rooted, their bounty just as sweet. The goats, against the odds, made it out of the shelling alive. The old stool you had once assisted your grandmother had merely cracked, not splintered. Life went on - and through the cracks of darkness, light emerged.

You saw something of yourself in that light.

A hopeful creature, timidly taking her first steps into the world. A passionate believer in the strength of goodness, in victory and vanquish over evil. That progress, ultimately, would triumph. That even in the face of blasphemy, there is room for beauty, for brightness. The trick is in finding it and nourishing it, so that it may grow.

From seed to sapling to great oak.

The spark within yourself ignited that day. You felt your grandmother’s presence and smiled. You mourned, not in sadness, but in joy - for all the happiness that had been, for all that would yet come.

The world treads down on optimists, mocking their faith. But you’ve learnt there’s courage in that kind of relentless determination. That day, you felt its whispers in your soul. That day, you swore to let it go free.

Iv. soldat improbable The time that  followed ‘The Great War’ was supposed to be the long peace. If you look with hooded eyes, you’d find that in the cityscape of New York. Illicit drinking. Parties that last until dawn. Jazz bands. Woman’s emancipation. There is so much beauty, so much progress. But squint harder - and you’d find an underground war, a cold one, lurking just below the surface. It’s cause is more just than any muggle one ever fought. It isn’t a battle between great powers, princes and their cousins. It’s between right and wrong, progress and past, egalitarianism and inequality.

You know you’re not a likely candidate to fight in it. Most overlook you, sneering at your daintiness, soft smiles and open heart. They should understand that it’s what makes you strong, too. All you want is some small part in this larger battle, to be a part of the greater good. More than anything else, you’re a visionary, able to picture a world beyond this hatred. If you can see the brightness, you can be the brightness, a bedrock for those wearier than you, a guide for those who might come in your direction. You’re no warrior, not in the conventional sense, but not every battle should be fought with a weapon. Some need softer tools. You could be that person.

It is the sum of your duties with Dahlia. You see yourself in her, the girl you were but a few years ago, timid and unsure of the power in her own voice, but possessing a rosy heart. She deserves better. You long to show her that, to share your brightness and certainty in betterness, to pull her from the den of snakes and away from the Pride Society. You’re not asking her to fight, for the Coalition, for you…never. You simply want to help her. You would do anything - give her the means to runaway, a safe roof to shelter under, because you long to see her flourish. You’re just so afraid of failure…of failing her, your duty and yourself. The powers against you are overwhelming, those who wield the weapons lethal. The horrors she confesses terrify you. Light, as bright as it is, can be snuffed out. That is your greatest fear where Dahlia is concerned.

V. Coup de main As fun you’ll admit the parties Wren and Kenshin drag you out to are, you couldn’t carve a life out of them. Pleasure is for hedonists - and you do not count yourself among their ranks. When you found your own voice, the grit beneath porcelain skin, you were determined that it should count. You sought purpose in yourself, a way to matter. Almost as if you were trying to prove yourself…to yourself.

You found clarity in the most unlikely of places. A non-descriptive building in Queens - that would appear empty to an unsuspecting muggle. It’s purpose only became clear when you stepped inside, finding an overworked and overwhelmed refugee agency. In the aftermath of the great war, the creation of a dozen new states in Europe, thousands of wizards chose to emigrate instead, heading to the United States in search of a better life.

It’ll be tough work, the supervisor warned, staring you up and down, disdainfully. You bit your lip. Old habits die hard.

I’m tougher than I look. Promise. Your voice rang with clarity, in how true that statement had become.

You began volunteering on a trial basis. You distributed donations and held shaky people in your arms. You played with children and made puppets dance. After a fortnight, you began to offer your services as a translator, hoping to connect people into the interior of the US. A little while after that, you suggested you could be used by the organisation at large, rather than ad-hoc.

You felt a rush in your chest, advocating for yourself. You felt strong and brave and…right.

VI. bizarreries personnelles

Here are the little things that make you, you.

You never broke the habit of walking on your tiptoes, a legacy left from a childhood full of ballet dancing. Slender limbs, porcelain skin, your teacher used to sigh and wish you centre stage. Bashfully, you refused, your cheeks darkening. The spotlight was never yours to claim.

You cannot cook without making a mess. In your presence, the kitchen comes a bomb sight, ravaged by war. Nose flour-stained, fingers sticky, you chase Kenshin around the kitchen. You always catch him. He always allows himself to get caught.

Your pastries are infamous, light and puffy, the sort only the french know how to make. You refine your recipes with magic and tap your nose whenever anyone asks for their secrets. (Later, in fine ink, you pen them a letter, containing the details).

You despise British food. You ate dutifully at Hogwarts, too shy to even dream of asking for an alternative. Toad in the hole. Pies. Casseroles. Blegh.

You bit your fingernails until you were fifteen years old. Your mother enchanted them after that, exasperated at your lack of self-control. The spell has long worn off, but the manicure never lasts long. It’s a nervous tick.

You used to chew your hair. You threw off that habit by twelve.

Birthdays are your favourite times of the year. You take great pride in the gifts you give friends, a thoughtful gesture behind each one. You do, however, despise your own birthday. Being at the centre of attention makes you uncomfortable, you’d much rather spread and share the joy. Luckily, everyone’s learnt not to throw you surprise birthday parties. Instead, you have small, intimate gatherings.

(You and Kenshin have a ritual. A cupcake at midnight as eve becomes day.)

You’re hopeless at keeping plants alive. There isn’t a green bone - or thumb - in your body. You failed herbology miserably.

But you’re incredibly attentive when it comes to writing in your diary, daily and in french, to prevent eavesdropping eyes. A habit you haven’t shaken since your days in Gryffindor.

Your patronus is a lamb. An individual with a lamb patronus has a sort of natural innocence about them, and have a very serene disposition. They are kind to most, though they tend to have a difficult time reaching out and expressing themselves. They have a shy aspect of them that is not only social, but inner, which makes them hesitant to do many things. That said, they are very patient and calm creatures, which allow them to be workable with this nature.

You talk too much when you’re nervous. Far too much. About things that have nothing to do with anything. The weather. The latest show that opened on Broadway. The dance craze everyone’s talking about. Whether you should get a bob. You blabber, filling the space with…words. It’s endearing to most, but you despise it in yourself.

Your wand is 9 ½”, french-made and slim. Beech and Unicorn Hair. “The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry not seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.”

Languages are your forte. You have a knack for wrapping your tongue around them, inheriting a little of your father’s silver-tongued mantle. French is your mother tongue, but you’ve added English, Spanish, Italian and a pinch of Latin to the mix.

When you’re making a bold declaration or gesture, you rehearse the words in your mind the night before, like a politician preparing for a speech. You muse over the most effective way to get your point across, the comfort a person will be most receptive to, or whether it’s better just to hold someone and let them cry.

Connection expansion:

I. meilleur ami (Note: I’m happy to change all of this if the Kenshin player disagrees, this is merely my interpretation).

“Mon Frere…” Kenshin catches your grin. Deliberately, his mouth forms an ‘o’. “Ma sœur” You wince at the deliberately butchered pronunciation, but smile nonetheless. He’s always had a particular knack for that, drawing the happiness out of you. And you for him. The only label that fits your description is that of platonic soulmate. Or big brother. For truly, the lines between friendship and family have blurred, that you can’t tell them apart. Certainly, he feels more like family than your own blood ever did.

You met on your tenth day at Hogwarts, in the middle of Herbology class. Devil’s snare wrapped around your hand, you panicked, but were too shy to raise you concerns, suffering in silence. Where few did, Kenshin noticed you - and calmed you down with that bluntness of his. Before you knew it, you were smiling, then laughing and then free. You’ve been attached at the hip since - and shall be, until death do you part. The years did little to change the pair of you. Where some friends grow apart, you grew together, slotting like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. By third year, you were spending Christmas together, Kenshin sensing your unspoken reluctance to go back to France and face the holidays with your parents. After your first one together, you confessed the truth, honesty no one had even known. But most of all, he brought light into his life - different to yours, more brazen and bold. Like two twinned suns, strung across the sky. He is your confidante, secret keeper, joker, dance partner and now, roommate.

The latter made sense. When the two of you ended up in New York at the same time (it’s impossible to imagine the two of you oceans apart, impossible and terrible and dreadful), it made sense for the pair of you to find a two-bed apartment in Manhattan and make it your home. You are as compatible roommates as you are friends.

And, for the first time, he made a house a home.

II. le fruit interdit (Again, I’m happy to alter things dependent on plotting w/ Prosperina’s player) You shouldn’t want to kiss her. If you are the doe, she is the wolf - a huntress determined to strike clean.  In your heart, you know you should hate that dynamic, as you know you should despise her - resent the intimidation that rises through your bones, abhore the uncertainty she makes you feel.. You should be afraid. Very afraid.

And in so many ways, you are. You’re scared of what your attraction to her says about you, now that you are both girls grown, living with the choices you make as adults. You aren’t school children anymore, you aren’t praying to be noticed, doodling hearts with your names encased in it. You’re fearful of what might happen if you find yourselves alone, in a dark - or a light - room. But you’re more frightened, in a strange way, of nothing happening at all.

With Prosperina, there are so many unspoken anxieties, so many things you can’t possibly wrap your head around, that you can’t possibly know. Why she notices you now. When you began to crave the burn. If the risk is worth a moments ecstasy. How beauty could wear such thorns.

You know, now, how Eve felt, in the Garden of Eden. Just one bite, the snake hissed. Just one kiss, Prosperina whispers. You have no wish to shed your wings and toss yourself from Paradise’s gate. But she’s just as beautiful as any angel you’ve ever gazed upon.

In Character Paragraph:

Thursday night, 9pm sharp, the Yale Club. Dress elegantly. Heloise didn’t need to glance down at the invitation to know its contents, her heart having memorised them ten times over, skipping a beat each time it paused at a cursive. Even Prosperina’s writing was beautiful. She would have liked to say that the invitation was unexpected, out of the blue and had been firmly rejected. Yet, since she distastes lies, she could not.

Heloise had, however, made an attempt or two to excuse herself. Sending an owl in return, she had outlined her disapproval of the Pride Society and its galas in no uncertain terms. Prosperina had take an age to respond - deliberately, Heloise supposed, to make her nerves hop and jump. When she had, Heloise could almost taste her tone. It’s not one of those. It’s for charity. Don’t you support charity? She had caved. Heloise couldn’t be sure if that was strength or weakness, good or bad.

Three days later, another letter had arrived. Wear pink. It matches the blush on your face.

Stepping into the room, Heloise steeled herself, a picture of defiance in angel-white, beads reflecting the light back.

Not so long ago, she would have cowered, a ghostly slip of a thing, trembling in the corner. Glass of champagne stitched to her hand, she would have sipped until someone had taken pity on her - and even then, she might have fled. That worked under the assumption she plucked the courage to attend at all. Time sandpapered everyone, some for the better, others for the worse. Heloise liked to think she took after the former.

The first eye she caught was from across the room, her gaze instantly drawn to the slip of a girl shrouded by demons, unable to do anything but stare from her cage. Dahlia. It hurt to see her here, to see the shackles bound and to know she was powerless to help. To approach her, to take her hands into her own and wrap her arms around her shoulders was to betray her newfound friend, to expose her doubts to the world. There was cruelty in watching her suffer - but there was greater cruelty in taking a hammer to the foundations below her feet. That wasn’t Heloise’s job. Hers was to encourage Dahlia to flutter her own wings, to learn how to fly. All in good time. Smiling softly across the room, she let her face say what her tongue couldn’t. Stay strong, keep the faith.

The second pair were Prosperina’s - appearing from nowhere, sneaking up behind. Departing from conventions and norms, she didn’t bother with small-talk. “You look ravishing. But not as pretty as you would have had in pink.”

Tongue-tied, Heloise searched for a response. No one had the power to shrink her anymore, now that she had freed her voice from its restraints. And yet, that didn’t mean anymore wit had returned to it. In times like these, she prayed for Kenshin’s presence at her side, always ready with a sharp retort, the sort that drew him closer to someone. Or even Wren, brazen and bold, who spoke without thought. You don’t want to impress her! One voice screamed.Not like you imagined you might, a lifetime ago.

And yet, a little bit of her did.

Heloise spurned her interest. But a little bit of her didn’t want to do without it either.

“I - Thank you. You look…” Staring at Prosperina for the first time, Heloise felt the breath be stolen from her lungs. Divine. Enchanting. “Like a million bucks.” Slanting her voice into an American accent for comedic effect, she immediately regretted her choice no sooner had it been said. “And this…it’s certainly big. Very big. I suppose that’s good. The more people you can fit in, the more donations you can collect for charity.”

Prosperina laughed. Heloise was never sure if she was being laughed at or with. She preferred to think it was the latter.

“The committee had a few reservations. Something about…vermin control. The guest list is rather exclusive, you see.”

Confusion flashed across her face. It wasn’t as if New York was a stranger to rodents…but something about her tone, about the look on her face…made it clear that it wasn’t animals she was referring to. Without noticing, Heloise had become a player in the game. The smile froze on her face. “I sure hope that isn’t a reference to the architects who built the place. Or the perfectly nice people going about their business on the floor below. They’re not doing any harm.”

“Ah yes, the No-Maj’s, as our Yank friends love to say.”

Heloise tensed on the mention of that word. She despised it. No-Maj. So…derogatory. And rather rude. As if they didn’t count as people, or deserve respect, on the merit of something they didn’t have - and had no choice in having. “I hate that term. I hate - you shouldn’t talk about them like that. Nobody should. They’re hardly hurting anyone. And technically, this is their territory so really we should - be respectful.” Exhaling heavily, she steadied herself.

“Oh,” Prosperina leaned in, all smiles now, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “You’re such a doll. I was only playing. But I can be nice, if you ask nicely.” Her touch felt like electricity, the sort of chemistry that couldn’t be duplicated or faked. When it was real, it was real. “I’ll go fetch us expensive champagne to make amends.” Half-purr, she broke off and Heloise dropped her gaze. “Pink Champagne, I think.”

Cheeks deepening into rosy-red, Heloise watched her depart, wishing she could look away.

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