#like ‘no one in all three fucking worlds deserves that self righteous asshole martyr

[kingofanemptyworld]

hey you know what would be fun? a fic where the Royal Guard follows through with their plans to make Ichigo the new Soul King and Grimmjow promptly loses his shit because what the actual fuck Ichigo has already given these people literally everything, twice, and this is how they repay him? recruits Nel and Harribel and Urahara and Yoruichi (after Nel sits on him for a while because Jesus Christ Grimmjow you can’t storm Soul Society by yourself no matter how much you’ve powered up) and it’s the Ryoka Invasion all over again except with pissed off arrancar instead. I just think it would be neat

[vanityxburke]

( character reference sheet . )

Voice:

Typically soft-spoken and rarely raises her voice around anyone, even when angry. If frustrated, her tone takes on a sharp, cold edge.

Limited use of contractions around the pureblood crowd; more polished; fake af.

Playful, witty banter around most others. Pleasant and unassuming.

Generally more crass around the Knockturn Crew out of habit.

Demeanor:

Bright and charming around the pureblood crowd; constantly smiling; submissive.

Cold and withdrawn around the DE’s when they’re on missions/at meetings together. Shuts herself down to be able to better navigate the brutality without losing her nerve. Doesn’t bother “turning on the charm” since she knows the DE’s aren’t the least bit interested in her ass kissing.

Blithe and matter-of-fact around the Order, though still friendly enough (pre-betrayal).

Personality/Quirks/Idk:

That Gemini Bitch

Weird mix of Phlegmatic and Choleric 

Cold, clinical, unflappable on the inside; playful, easygoing, and polite on the outside.

+ Calculative, strong-willed, clever, practical, savvy, adaptable, hardworking

- Duplicitous, manipulative, icy, pessimistic, self-serving, amoral, numb

Stepford Smiler for days; Sugar and Ice personality

Probably too passive for her own good. You gotta shake her a little to get her to care about anything that isn’t quidditch.

Carries patience in spades (unless it’s about Mundungus’ wardrobe). It takes a lot to get her to lose her temper, partly because retail experience and partly because she’s too detached to really take things all that seriously. That patience is a bit two-fold, though, because it lends itself to her being exceptionally good at holding grudges. She’s not completely one track minded about revenge and what not, but she will remember those who’ve wronged her (Order and DE members alike) and if and when she’s allowed the opportunity to fuck them over, even if it’s twenty years later, she’ll jump at the chance.

Pragmatic and efficient; relies more on cold, hard facts than emotions. Quick to make most hard decisions.

Egotistical at school both to keep up appearances and because she legit thought her quidditch skills made her Hot Shit; this leveled out when she joined the Magpies who a) were just as good as she was, and b) weren’t all snooty purebloods she had to posture for. Still maintains a prideful streak, though -- just ask her trophy room.

Her inferiority complex re: purebloods isn’t nearly as bad in the present as it was when she was growing up, but it’ll occasionally pop up from time to time

Ambitious in terms of knowing what she wants and being willing to work hard for it, but she’s not particularly power hungry or greedy. All she really wants rn is peace of mind and the freedom to tear up the pitch without having to worry about the DE’s stringing her up for being a halfblood.

Thinks she’s “above” petty stealing; still does it from time to time because she’s a hypocrite and it’s a force of habit.

Lights up when talking about quidditch or an artifact at the shop she’s taken a real shine to.

Cares more about her crows than u.

Big believer in you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar

Had an Identity Crisis when she found her father’s journal and was emo about it for a while. Got over it when she started her quidditch career but it’s come rushing back now that the question of blood statuses and paternity is everywhere; feels like she’s letting her father down with her morally bankrupt life choices while simultaneously thinking he’s a weak bitch for caving under the DE’s pressure.

Is most herself around her quidditch teammates and the Knockturn crew because she can strike the perfect balance of “asshole with an occasional side of decency” without having to worry about playing pretend for anyone.

The type to spew off morbid and unsettling factoids relating to the Dark Arts in a deadpan voice only to smile at you three seconds later like she’s only just read you the morning paper.

Motivations:

To survive, bitch.

Maybe find out ~who she really is~ 

The current political climate has further exacerbated Emma’s insecurities about her identity. Growing up, so much of who she was supposed to be was rooted in her parent’s legacy and the Burkes’ pureblood heritage. She learned to play the part of a pureblood convincingly enough, though as someone raised outside the world of aristocracy, she never quite felt as though she measured up. When the discovery of her father’s journal proved so much of what she’d been told all her life to be a sham, it fractured whatever sense of stability Emma had built around her pureblood persona. Eventually, she forged an identity around her quidditch prowess, something that was hers and hers alone and that couldn’t be challenged. Now that she’s had to give that up and is back to wearing a mask in order to survive, Emma finds herself torn again, unsure of who she really is.

Really wants to return to her quidditch career and just fly away from all the world’s problems but she can’t really do that with a severed head, so schmoozing it is.

Her joining the Order was a last-ditch effort at trying to get back some semblance of normalcy in her life where she isn’t constantly under the DE’s thumb and not because she especially cares about the little problem of muggles and muggleborns being slaughtered everywhere.

Her eventual betrayal is because she blames the Order for Caractacus’ death after she came to them for help upon his arrest and received no aid; deep down she knows the DE’s are obviously more to blame but in her grief the Order was the easier target and a slew of failures on their end only added to the idea that they were a sinking ship anyway and that at least the DE’s could offer her a better deal in terms of protection.

Beliefs:

Believes people are inherently selfish; don’t trust them or care about them, it’s just a hassle.

Cynic, never expects good things to stick.

Finds the Order members equal parts amusing and exhausting for their self-righteous goals; patronizes them on the regular.

Mostly views people from an angle of what they can offer her/how useful they can be.

Doesn’t buy into the pureblood ideology but growing up at Hogwarts surrounded by her affluent peers, she attached a high value to their lofty lifestyles, egged on by the Burkes’ desire to ingratiate her fully into pureblood society for the sake of their own reputations. This, coupled with her sudden elevation of status at Hogwarts on account of her quidditch skills, led her to believe she deserved better than what Knockturn had to offer; she was meant for the skies, not the grimy streets. Eventually, when her professional quidditch career distances her from the purebloods direct sphere of influence and even later when she returns to Knockturn after leaving the League, she comes to find she will always be drawn back to the place she grew up in and that it’s more a part of her than the pureblood world will ever be.

Her sense of loyalty really only extends to the parameters of Knockturn’s Code: you look out for your fellow thief and stand alongside your community in times of trouble – within reason.

^^^ Borrows from that same standard of loyalty when it comes to her quidditch teammates bc ball is life.

Strong interest in the Dark Arts and the world of the occult that stems from her upbringing around Knockturn Alley and Borgin & Burkes. Was heavily invested in necromancy at one point when she was younger because she used to believe she could somehow bring her parents back from the dead.

Violence for the sake of violence disgusts her. She sees brutality as only a means to an end if force is absolutely necessary. The DE’s sadism straight up terrifies her.

Quotes for reference:

“I don’t deserve to die. I’m not finished yet. See, I actually want to be around for when they release the Nimbus 1700, and the Nimbus 2000 after that, and whatever comes next. I want to live to pick up a broom again and not have to owe anyone a damn thing. So, you compromise. You keep your head low and swim to their current because you’re not fucking finished yet. You do what you need to do first, and then you get to live. Don’t let anyone tell you there’s still a fight here, Benjy. Let the martyrs throw away their lives if they want, but you? You have to know better. Everyone’s got dead people; not all of us are looking to join them.” 

“No, she’d have to bide her time; forge useful connections, build a stronghold for herself in the pureblood community, and, above all else, make sure she mattered enough. If and when the dust settled she needed to have secured a rock solid reputation that shielded her from any scrutiny. Slughorn’s recent rejection for a lunch meeting had struck a sour note; without her flashy career Emma knew she really wasn’t much of anyone in the pureblood community. There was no well-connected husband waiting in the wings, no posh manor house to call her own that the rest of the Burkes wouldn’t try their damnedest to keep her from getting. She was just a salesgirl with a name bigger than herself. Quidditch changed that. It was the only part of her identity that neither Emma, nor anyone else, had ever needed to question. Her one truth in a life built on lies.”

“Maybe she was little more than a sheep in this new world. Maybe she’d gotten so used to biting her own tongue and working within the confines of her shiny silver cage that she’d forgotten others weren’t quite as content with smiling their way through the horror and bloodshed, especially when they didn’t have big, lofty surnames to fall back on. Maybe she was just as big a hypocrite as she’d accused Mundungus of being. But if there was one thing Emma refused to be guilted into thinking, it was that she’d done any of them wrong in trying to survive. She’d been doing that all her life; she wasn’t about to start making excuses for herself now.”

“It was funny how easily the years could come rushing back. She might have faked it till she made it all her life, but it was in the presence of people like Narcissa that Emma was sorely reminded of what she lacked. The pedigree, the posh upbringing… all the things she thought she’d remedied with her sterling quidditch career. That she would never be quite on their level was a thought that’d been lost amongst the chorus of cheers surrounding her name and the lofty heights of flashy stardom, because at the very least she was still someone. Without that reputation to fall back on, she could feel the slight strain now beginning to tug at her smile, once again mindful of the differences that’d bolstered both her resentment and admiration for Narcissa so long ago.”

“Most days her “fellow” purebloods were manageable enough. Emma had found that a decent chunk of them simply liked to hear themselves talk, and if she indulged their lofty chitter chatter of imported curtain drapes or the appropriate silverware for dinner parties with minimal input and the occasional nod, they were putty in her hands. Others were quieter, more calculative; they tended to save their two cents for preaching the gospel of pureblood superiority, wasting no time on the insipid. Those you allowed room to speak, matching their proud, defiant carriages and chiming in every so often to denounce the filth that’d contaminated the Wizarding World. Then there were ones like Amycus; the hardcore traditionalists. Brutal. Unforgiving. A little o f f . Full-fledged Death Eaters with a flair for the sadistic. Those were the ones she’d never quite learned how to deal with.”

“What it can’t hide are the eyes. Hers are a sharp green; they are constantly in motion, making slow circuits around a room like a cat sizing up its prey from a near distance. They are the eyes of someone raised in a business and brought up by thieves; they appraise everyone around her, judging their potential usefulness as if they’re nothing but gemstones being traded in at the shop. The second she spots a crack too big to gloss over, her probing gaze moves on in search of a better deal, discarding all those that fail to measure up. They are eyes that don’t necessarily see as they’re meant to – they are eyes that dissect.”

“And she tells him the truth. She tells him about the old crone who mugged her in the alley once and how Caractacus forbade her from stepping foot in Knockturn for a year after that. How in that year her aunt Eustacia refocused her efforts on ingratiating her into the pureblood world, and how a person would’ve needed to surgically remove her head out of Narcissa Black’s arse that year at Hogwarts as she followed her around everywhere like some pathetic little puppy, intent on molding herself into a perfect pureblood lady. How she let the boyfriends her aunt would handpick for her push her around at school, belittle her, treat her like absolute shit all in the name of being someone in their gilded little world. She tells him she needs this place, that it grounds her, that she hates the person she is when she cuts herself away from it entirely; that she’s three steps closer to knowing who she really is amongst the grime of Knockturn than she ever was seated at a silver table in Narcissa’s world.”

“Talk less, smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

"People don’t get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don’t stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it."