#like the princess to the shifting mound except not quite that either

[seafoam-taide]

so the thing with slay the princess is the shifting mound calls the protagonist a passive player but in essence they are the only one in this little pocket of universe with any agency or ability to act which is in part bc of their role as vessel for the player but also because that is their role. the problem is that the protagonist has no goal. they are an entirely fresh person who does not know any of this? does not have a purpose. they are the long quiet because that is what they were made to be but that isn't an identity that is a role and one that is undefined. and there is the narrator, a fixed, unchanging agent meant to provide this purpose, except the shifting mound has one too, and needs the agency of the protagonist to complete it's purpose. everything depends on the only one in this whole thing that can make the choice to change because the shifting mound calls them passive but it is entirely at their whims and must plead its case in the face of the one person who can do anything about this entire situation and it's nature is reaction, not action, built on impressions molded by the protagonist. everything hinges on them and yet the most they have is echoes of motivation and ideas that are themselves built on the ideas fed to them . and all they know is this recursive loop of information . there is nothing to define the protagonist but the incomplete beings, ideas, that make up their surrounding. the protagonist is made up of the perceptions and thoughts and ideas of the echo that is the narrator and the shifting mound itself and the plan is for this person who's only memories and ideas of existence are of the princess and revolve around the shifting mound's intentions to somehow kill a being that is only what it is perceived? the narrator's origin split a god in half then made it so those two halves would only know each other could only know each other and expected this to result in erasure??? did he not think a practically newly created entire whole person would not be curious and would not grow like a person would.

[saphireeyes9875]

You know, I love all the analyses the fandom is making about the Pristine Cut and Slay the Princess in general, but I haven't seen a lot of people talk about the nature of the Construct. Sure, we all know that the Narrator created it somehow to contain both the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound, but the actual “fabric” of the Construct is these two gods.  An attentive eye might catch very early in a playthrough that the trees, the sky, the ground - they’re all shades of dark grey and black, with a feathery texture that is unquestionably Quiet. The new Apotheosis showcases this very well. 

But the cabin is different. It’s all light grey and white - Shifty’s colors. I believe that the most notable way this is shown is during our encounters with Shifty’s incomplete form. When we are “at the cabin”, all we can see is her mass of hands and the vessel we brought her - which implies that Shifty is the cabin itself.

And that’s fascinating to me, because the cabin is also, by the Narrator’s design, her own prison. Just as he establishes in his opening monologue that we are on a path in the woods, he also cleverly says that the Princess is within that cabin, and that if she escapes it, the world ends. And, except in the Wild, none of these two statements are ever refuted by either the Hero or the Princess, because to do so is to unravel the very fabric of their false reality.

So even though it seems like the cabin should bend to the Princess’ will, being quite literally her domain, it remains her prison in every other route.

In many Chapter 2’s, but especially in the Nightmare and the Beast, the Princess emphasizes the fact that the cabin will not let her leave - very ironic, since we’ve just seen how the interior of the cabin has been completely reshaped by the Princess’ influence.

I love this line from the Beast, because you can so clearly see how the Narrator’s beliefs have bled through the Construct. I was reminded of it the first time I played through the Princess and the Dragon, because the repetition of “this is what you deserve”, as other people pointed out, seems very much like something the Narrator would tell her.

Notably, however, the Princess can escape the cabin when you are accompanying her. On a meta-narrative level, this makes complete sense: the characters can only escape the cycle of violence they are trapped in when they work together. But within the narrative of the game, this doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the Construct’s rules. The Narrator would never allow such a thing if he could help it, so this must be Shifty’s influence coming through, right?

And this reminds me of another two routes, the ones I’ve seen people describe as the most genre-savvy ones: the Damsel and the Tower.

I'm not sure if this voice line was cut in the final game or if I just couldn't find it when I went looking for the screenshots, but I'm pretty sure that at some point in the Damsel route, the Voice of the Hero asks why the Princess hasn’t escaped already if her shackle is so loose, and Smitten says that “we’ve yet to present her with her freedom”.

On a surface level, this seems like a pretty arrogant, even demeaning line, a trend in this chapter that robs the Damsel of her agency. On a meta-narrative level, this is commenting on how the “damsel in distress” archetype is often a shell of a character that simply exists to reward the “hero”. But I also think this hints at how the Princess, either subconsciously or by the Narrator’s influence, doesn’t believe that it’s possible for her to escape alone - and therefore, she can’t.

Tower, arguably the vessel most aware of the extent of her powers, is even clearer when she tells us that she could easily break her chains and escape the cabin - and she does so in the Apotheosis - but that’s not the story she wants to tell. As much as they yearn for freedom, all the Princesses, by their very nature as beings of perception, want to be perceived, to connect with someone… especially with the Hero, of course.

(this line makes me go feral every time btw, it's so simple and yet so effective -)

Anyway, this was a very long winded way of saying that the Narrator somehow managed to make the Shifting Mound’s “body” into her own prison (which is insane if you think about it) and she can only be freed with the Long Quiet’s help. I’m not sure if this is like, super obvious, but I still wanted to talk about it, soooo if anyone wants to add to this, I'd love to discuss more!

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xlvii - center stage

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??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

After the performance, you all congratulated Yunho for his performance along with his teammate. But not long after that, he ran off with his team to do an evaluation back at the practice room where they had also put their things.

Deciding you wanted to spend more time with Yunho, you split off with the others to wait for Yunho. How could you not? The way he danced woke something in you that you didn't think was there.

Luckily when you got to the practice room, the captain had just wrapped things up and they began to slowly file out. As people walked out, you sneaked in and waited until the room was empty except for Yunho who was focused on rummaging around in his bag.

You slowly crept behind him, making sure he wouldn't realize you. when you glomped down onto his back, he yelped and fell to the side, effectively toppling the both of you over. You giggled when he looked at you with eyes wide as saucers.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed. Though when he looked at your widely grinning face, he couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation was.

You both scrambled back into a sitting position before talking.

"So," Yunho started as he zipped his bag tightly, "how'd you like the performance?" he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You light up as well, wanting to tell him what you thought.

"I loved it! You were so cool! The boys and I couldn't tear our eyes off of you!" you told him. He beamed up immediately at your encouraging words.

"But there was something that I don't quite like from your performance," you added, pursing your lips. Yunho's eyes widened at that, worried, "w-what is it? Did I made a mistake on stage??" he panicked immediately.

You pouted and feigned a saddened look at him, "I don't like the part where you danced with that one girl and the fact that you looked so incredibly hot that the girls around me were lusting after you," you said, playing with your fingers and avoiding Yunho's stare.

Yunho exhaled in relief at your words. But soon his demeanour changed into a teasing one. His darkened eyes looked straight at your face and he crawled close to you, "so... you were jealous at the other girls, baby?" he asked, tilting his head to the side even though you weren't looking at him.

You nodded slowly at him, hands fiddling, "I don't like the way they talked about you, they were saying things like being able to see the outline of your dick from your pants," you mumbled.

"And why don't you like it?" he asked. At his question, you snapped your head up to look straight at him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and cheeks puffed up slightly, "because I'm the only girl who's supposed to be able to see your dick!" you exclaimed.

Seeing how adorable you are though upset, Yunho laughed wholeheartedly before he pulled you closer to his lap. He let your legs dangle on his sides as his arms wrap around your waist securely.

He stared at you with a smile on his face and eyes filled with affection, "you ARE the only girl who's able to see my dick," he giggled. He leaned his face forward and nuzzled his nose with yours.

Your hands instinctively gripped on his shoulder, bottom lip still jutting out, "don't make me tattoo my name on your dick to ward off other bitches," you muttered at him.

Without a warning, he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with an urgency that is not usually like him. His kisses were always soft and gentle and he only acted as such during sex. But with the position you were in, how things progressed from one moment to another, and his dick coming to life, you had an idea of where this might go.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip teasingly as his hands rest on your thigh, his fingers crept into the inside of your short skirt. When his fingers began to scratch at your thighs, you gasped into his mouth.

At the opportunity, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and drove his hand to cup your ass under your skirt.

"You know, you talk as if guys weren't lusting after you all night long," he mumbled against your lips. You let out a noise that indicated you were questioning him, to which he chuckled, "I saw how the guys other than us looked at you, probably wondering what kind of panties you're wearing," he said before he suddenly flipped your skirt up at while detaching his lips from yours to stare down at your crotch at the same time.

Once his eyes saw your panty-clad pussy, you could see how it immediately darkened. His hand didn't even hesitate when he reached forward and tugged your panties to reveal your pussy.

At the revelation, his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, "how would you think they'd react if they saw my marks all around your body?" he asked as he began pushing you down to a laying position, "t-they wouldn't be able to see them because I w-won't let them," you stuttered out.

Satisfied with your answer, Yunho proceeded to hover above you with his face at your crotch. "Little princess has been trained well, hasn't she?" he smirked up at you. He pressed a soft kiss on your mound over your panties before tearing the flimsy material off with his teeth.

When his teeth grazed at your skin, you couldn't help but gasp and instinctively tried to close your legs. But Yunho was having none of that as he immediately pressed your thighs to make sure your legs stayed open for him.

Once your panties are fully off, you saw Yunho pocketed it in his front pocket. His eyes met yours and he smirked devilishly, "I'm confiscating this," he simply said.

Before you could even say anything to him, he had pressed a finger into your hole. Your eyes widened in shock and your breath hitched. At the sudden intrusion, your hands gripped onto your skirt tightly.

Yunho chuckled at your reaction, finding it rather cute, "you look adorable like this," he said. Then his eyes shifted to your pussy, staring at it intensely, "and your pussy's taking my finger so well," he said before he started thrusting his finger in you slowly.

Knowing you both are in a relatively public space, you bit your bottom lip to prevent yourself from being too loud.

Blissfully in his own headspace, Yunho moved to pepper kisses along your inner thighs. The feeling of his soft lips so close to your pussy was frustrating.

You let out a soft whine at Yunho, wordlessly letting him know that you want more. But Yunho only bit your skin in response, letting you know that you were in no place to make demands.

Yunho's fingers began moving quicker, more desperate than before. His lips left multiple marks on your skin, painting them red and light purple. His possessiveness was apparent with the way he was marking you up, wanting to make sure that you and maybe the others would see that he was with you, that you're partially his.

Without you even realizing, Yunho had managed to slip three fingers in you and was ramming into your cunt quickly, adding a thumb to your clit just because.

"-n-nho! Yu-yun- ho! I'm gon-gonna-" you stuttered out, brain fuzzy from the sheer intensity of his finger fucking. Yunho grinned wickedly at the sight of you. He crawled back up, his finger never stopping, fervently pushing you to cum all over his fingers, "Come on baby, let it go, show me how much I affected you," he commanded.

Your eyes snap shut as your jaw hung open when you cum hard on Yunho's fingers. Your pussy clamped his fingers, preventing them from moving.

As you let your first orgasm ebb away, Yunho moved forward to press rewarding kisses all over your face. He whispered compliments to you, telling you how proud he is at how obedient you are.

Before you could fully recover, Yunho hoisted you up and pressed your chest onto the cool mirror. The coldness of the mirror on your hot skin made you shiver. He had a hand wrapped around your waist as the other lifted your skirt up to expose your bottom whereas you had both hands pressed on the mirror by your side.

Yunho stood behind you, his dick pressed onto your ass and you were able to feel how hard he was. You could only assume it's uncomfortable.

"Can you feel me baby?" he asked right next to your ear, biting on it slightly. You whimpered but managed to let out a soft 'yes' to him. "You were worried that other girls would get to me when the fact is, you're the only girl who is able to make me this hard," he groaned.

You heard the sounds of zipper unzipping and a bit of rustling before you felt the bare tip of Yunho's dick in between your legs. You sucked in a breath when he started to rub his massive length along your pussy, using your juice as a lubricant for his dick.

"Can I please fuck my girl? Please?" He asked softly.

Your legs almost buckled at how affected you are by his voice and words.

"P-please Yunho, fuck me," you whimpered at him.

At your confirmation, Yunho used his free hand to manoeuvred his dick at your hole. Your jaw once again dropped open when he began to push in slowly. You could feel all of him grazing against your inside, slowly bottoming out until he's finally all the way inside you, his hips flush against your ass.

Yunho gripped on you tighter, seemingly trying to control himself, wanting you to get used to him first. Your head dropped forward as you focused on how he made you full.

After a while, you pushed yourself back at Yunho, urging him to start moving.

He took notice of your signal and immediately took hold of your waist with both of his hands and just began thrusting into you.

The pace wasn't rushed, but it wasn't slow either. It was rather powerful but not harsh. Yunho wanted to make sure that you felt him as much as he was feeling you enveloping him tightly, making him feel so exhilarated without doing much.

"God, you feel amazing, your pussy is so fucking greedy taking all of me," he moaned loudly. Yunho leaned back to see how you both are connected, "God, I fucking love you, (Y/N)," he groaned out. The sight of his dick disappearing into you sent tingles down his spine and he could feel his dick twitched, wanting nothing but more of you for him. He began thrusting quicker, your slick helped him slip easily with the pace he wanted.

With every powerful thrust, he sent you lurching forward, almost colliding with the mirror. But thankfully you were anchoring yourself with your hands on the mirror.

Yunho looked up only to see you were looking down. Frowning, he reached a hand forward and grab your chin, "I want you to look at me fucking you, got it?" he growled. Through the pleasure that clouded your mind, you managed to nod.

Both of your eyes stayed on each other the whole time he was thrusting into you. He had a satisfied smirk on his face, pleased that you listened to him well.

Due to the previous orgasm from his fingers, you were still very much sensitive and it didn't take much for you to feel your second one incoming. Yunho felt you began clenching him, almost trapping his dick in you while your hand curled into fists. He reached both of his own hands to interlace with yours. You felt his chest pressed on your back and you couldn't help but leaned back to capture his lips with yours.

With your lips connected, fighting for dominance and Yunho's dick buried deep in you, stroking your g-spot constantly, it only took a couple harsh thrusts before you came hard whilst squealing into his mouth.

Immediately, your legs felt like jelly and thank god for Yunho's fast reflex as he immediately held you close and brought you to a standing position.

Your pussy was clenching him so hard and with the warmth and the feeling of you shuddering against him, Yunho came inside you not long after.

You detached your lips from him to catch your breath. But you opted to press soft kisses along his jaw. Yunho kept thrusting through both of your orgasms, prolonging them as much as he can.

When he felt like he couldn't unload more, he stopped the movements of his hips and once again connected his lips to yours. You giggled when he playfully bit onto your bottom lip while caressing your hips underneath your skirt.

"Can we just stay like this for a while?" he mumbled against your lips. When he felt you clench on his dick that was still inside you, he moaned loudly, "scratch that, can we stay like this forever?"

You giggled at him and poked his nose, "nope, because," you cut yourself off to peck him quickly once more on his lips, "I'm hungry and I wanna go get something to eat with you," you grinned.

Yunho matched your grin with his own and nodded. He carefully slipped himself out of you, making you visibly shudder both at the feeling of him grazing your inside and the sudden loss of him.

He fixed your clothes first before fixing his own, making sure it wasn't too obvious that you two just had sex in the dance room. Once he deemed that you both looked good, he took your hand in his and walked out.

"Oh, look!" you called out to him, showing the screen of your phone with an open group chat message, "the boys are at Mcdonalds! Should we join them?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

Yunho pursed his lips but shrugged, "I can use like 20 pieces of nuggets now," he said. You rolled your eyes at him and nudged him with your shoulder, "can you really gobble 20 nuggets in one sitting?" you questioned. He raised an eyebrow at you challengingly, "you doubting my skills?" he then leaned his face close to you, "I can gobble you up if I want to," he teasingly stated.

At his faux threat, you giggled loudly and smack his arm playfully, "you can't gobble me up, you doof!" "Sure I can! you're teenie," he grinned.

All the way to Mcdonalds, you both joked around, teasing one another. He even commented on the fact that you hadn't worn your panties as it was still in his pocket.

But he got to admit that at that moment, when you two were alone, with you laughing at whatever stupidity he uttered, he had never seen or heard anyone so perfect.

And that's when it hit him.

He loves you.

Not only loving having you around.

But he loves you genuinely and wholly.

And that he had said it to you not long ago.

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[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Characters: Colette Marston, Red Army

              The metallic scent of gunpowder and dust hung heavy in the air. Colette could hardly recognize the Central Quarter. Buildings had been reduced to rubble coated in streaks of crimson blood. The sky had grayed with clouds, as if feeling the pain of the town.

              Colette stood amidst the ruins of the fallen Civic Center, almost unable to comprehend the sight before her. The destruction spread as far as the eye could see. Flames rose from the Forbidden Forest spreading in either direction, engulfing both territories indiscriminately, sending billows of smoke into the air.

              Her home decimated before her eyes.

              Among the wreckage, only a few figures stood. Lancelot was on his knees, blood staining his crisp white uniform. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, eyes trained on the man that stood before him. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, eyes alighted red.

              The man’s face was hidden from view by the hood of his cloak, but the terrifying laugh that erupted from underneath paralyzed her with fear. “I will rebuild this world from the ashes, with the help of the one most precious to you.” The man lifted his hand and set it atop the familiar mound of blonde curls.

              The blood drained from her body. A heavy weight set in her stomach, like nothing she had ever felt before.

              Herself… a future version of herself stood next to him. With almost mechanical movements, her hand raised up. A bright light illuminated from her palm, eyes glowing red with the magic flowing from her body. Her target already too far drained of his own magic to resist.

              The sheer pain on Lancelot’s face of the fate that was about to befall him made her stomach lurch. Colette screamed, understanding what that one moment meant.

               The room was chilly, much more than usual. Her panting breaths lingered on the air. Sweat stuck strands of curls to her face and her heart pounded hard enough to shoot pain through her entire chest. Her head ached with stinging pressure, the vision creating a heavy pressure.

              Colette climbed from the bed, too afraid to go back to sleep. It had been some time since a vision had shaken her so much that it began to affect her physically. The meaning behind it alluded her. The cloak had been nearly identical to the ones she had seen before. Whoever that man was, he had a dark presence. How could she have ever chosen to go with him? Why would she ever use her magic to harm King Lancelot?

              Her home life hadn’t been bad. Her mother and step-father were kind people but her visions had set her apart from their normal family life. Coming to the Red Army Headquarters had granted her a peaceful existence. She wasn’t the only magic user. She wasn’t the odd one out. Many of the army officers had their own quirky personalities. She belonged here.

              How could she ever put this life she had at jeopardy?

              Colette swayed on her feet, the ground shifting beneath her feet. The stinging pain in her head forcing her to close her eyes only to swept away into the vision again.

              The rubble beneath her feet trembled almost in anticipation of the act about to happen. If she could see the man… maybe she could find a way to stop him before things progressed this far. Colette climbed over a large slab, her dress catching on the jagged edges. The light emitting from the future Colette grew brighter and strong.

              Jerking as hard as she could, material wouldn’t give. The vision trapping her from moving any closer. “Please, please stop!” She shouted, though in her heart she knew that it was useless. She was merely a ghost in this moment, a spectator for an event that had yet to happen.

              The sickening rip of the dress as she pulled sent her body lurching forward. A thin stake of metal sticking up from between the remains of the building rushed toward her face. One last glance at the man in the hood took her breath away. For a moment... just one moment, Colette could have sworn his head turned in her direction.

              “Colette!” Zero’s voice brought her out of the vision before she could witness herself being impaled on a stake. His arm was hooked around her waist, hauling up from the ground. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, soft pants escaping his lips.

              Colette stared at the ground in front of her. The steps to the storehouse behind the headquarters were a dark hole in front of her.

              “Colette, answer me! You nearly fell down these stairs. You could have killed yourself!” Zero happened to be returning from patrol and saw the girl near the staircase. His attempts to call out to her had been ignored. He had narrowly missed catching her when she missed the step of the top stair.

              “I don’t know,” she murmured, unable to wrap her head around where she was. The cool night air nipped at her burning cheeks. She blinked to clear her hazy vision.

              Zero returned her to her feet once he was sure that she was no longer in the midst of her sleepwalking. He stared down at her while she rubbed her eyes and yawned. ��It’s nearly 6 in the morning.”

              Colette paused, unsure of how to take that information. She was sure that her clock only read 4 when that vision awoke her and then drew her back in. Time was relative in her magic ability, but never had one taken her hours to wake up from, nor had she ever walked while enveloped inside it. She shivered, not appropriately dressed for the weather.

              “Let’s go inside, okay?” Zero offered her his hand, deciding not to push her for answers. He could clearly see that something had set her into a state of panic. It showed in those bright blue eyes that were filled with sorrow and fear.

              She took his hand and allowed Zero to guide her inside. She didn’t trust her own body to make the journey. After nearly tumbling down concrete stairs, Colette feared what else might happen in the next vision. This marked the first time she had ever been truly scared of her ability.

              Seated in the brightly lit dining hall, Colette sat in one of the big chairs, cradling her knees to her chest. Her cheek rested atop her knees, eyes heavy with exhaustion. She refused to close them, the pain of that vision returning being too much to bear. Betraying her king.

              Zero returned to her with a warm glass of tea. He turned the chair to her left to face her. He knew Colette was hurting, but he had no experience in offering advice to a child. Awkwardly setting his hand on her head, he said, “There’s tea for you. Your favorite kind.”

              Her silence cautioned him. As much as Zero wished to help her, he had no clue where to start. She had barely said a few words since he found her outside.

              The doors to the dining hall were pushed open, Edgar strolling in with a yawn. “It’s much too early for a meeting,” he mused to the room. Pausing mid-step, he took in the sight before him. “How precarious. Did something happen?”

              Zero would never admit to being happy to see his mentor, but nonetheless, he gave him the story of what happened in hopes that Edgar would have better luck with the girl. He rose, moving closer and keeping his voice hushed as he spoke. “She hasn’t spoken since.”

              Edgar hummed. “That is quite odd for our little princess isn’t it?” he took the spot Zero had been in but crouched down to be nearly eye level with her. The distant look in her eyes was disconcerting. “Colette, are you not feeling well?” Her rose tinted cheeks and the beads of sweat across her forehead pointed toward a fever.

              Colette shook her head.

              “A vision, then, hmm? Something much scarier than the usual ones?” He prided himself on being able to read facial cues and body language. Her eyes widened every so slightly, refusing to meet his gaze. Her arms around her knees tensed. Edgar smiled softly at her, continuing to press her for the details. “It’s not like you to keep them to yourself. Tell me what it was about.”

              Adjusting to rest her forehead on her knees, she raised her shoulders to hide her face. “No.”

              “Colette, you know the rules. If it’s a vision that could potentially change the outcome of our lives, then you have to report it. There are no exceptions,” Edgar said. He hated having to do this, wanting instead to comfort the child and tell her that everything would be alright. But the reality of her visions could change the fate of their country. It was his duty to get the information. “I promise that you won’t like the consequences of hiding this from us.”

              “Stop. Stop it!” Colette covered her head with her arms, trembling in her seat. She wanted to tell them but feared how they would view her if they knew. Would they lock her away to keep her from that future? Shun her? Throw her out? Her breath caught in her throat.

              “Edgar!” Zero hadn’t meant for this when he asked for his help. He bit his tongue when Edgar held up his hand. A silent but direct order to stand down.

              Edgar stood, gathering that the vision must have been dire for her to be so adamant about hiding the content. “Shall I go speak to King Lancelot then? I assure you that I have no qualms to wake him—” He only took one step before she reached out and caught his hand.

              Sobs wracked her small body, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Her magic flared up inside, spilling over the hurricane of emotions inside her. The vision returned, replaying the horrifying scene to both her and the Jack of Hearts. It faded out just before the final blow could be dealt by her own hand. Colette retracted her arm, wishing with all her might to change the future that seemed so set in stone.

              The dining hall fell silent as she awaited to hear her own fate.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter went much differently than I originally planned. When I was mid writing the scene where Edgar came in, I intended for it to be a sweet scene, but it turned into this. I realized that Colette may be a child, but she is the 2 of Hearts, an officer of the Chosen Thirteen, so it’s her duty to give her superiors details of her visions.

[oxfordeliterp]

CONGRATULATIONS, AREEJ!

You have been accepted to play the role of CHARLOTTE ZERILLI with the faceclaim of VANESSA HUDGENS. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. When I say that picking the player of Charlotte took me thirty whole minutes after I have read all three applications (impossibly beautiful, all three, and impossible to compare, for they were three different Charlottes that I wanted to see shifted into three different characters, all played in the roleplay group’s context), it’s not a hyperbole. I read about Charlotte being the heiress, the wasp and the strategic, and I honestly couldn’t possibly tell which I liked most, reason why I have literally written this acceptance message for two of the three versions and was ready to post it. I have changed the application under the cut three times and it haunts me how difficult of a choice you have made this for me. I am going to encourage everybody who has applied and didn’t get the role they wanted to reapply, because I would genuinely want you all, but you two (you know who you are) I feel like the roleplay group would be incomplete without. You all had the misfortune of falling in love with the same character. If the Gods love me and if you do end up reapplying, I’m going to be the happiest person alive. It’s unfair; you are all mob princesses to me, right now.

Now to focus on you, Areej. Sorry for the intro, thank you for the wonderful application. I cannot stress how much love I have for every detail you have put into this. It is obvious to me that you are a skilled writer with a capacity and understanding for the human nature that cannot go unnoticed. The para sample was so flawlessly executed that it stuck in my mind. Every little detail you have included made me eager to see your Charlotte on the dashboard. I want to meet her and see where she goes wrong. The amount of research you put into the application has not gone unnoticed. What can I say? And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.

Name and pronouns: Areej (alternatively Queen, your fave, empress, so on and so forth) & she/her

Age: 17

Time-zone: GMT

Activity level: Right at this very moment, while procrastination is at an all time high, a lot. If I don’t get off by mid-June please kick my ass.

Triggers:  removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charlotte Zerilli

I love her a lot. (ok duh I love her a lot or I wouldn’t be applying for her. look @ me stating the obvious.) But on a more serious and hopefully less obvious note, what I’m always drawn towards is characters’ relationships, and Charlotte’s, I feel, have the potential to be very interesting because she’s almost always superior. Not in a mean way. It’s just how it is. Charlotte Zerilli is everything, has everything, and no matter how approachable and friendly she paints herself as, lingering around her is an air of superiority she can’t seem to wash off. This is what creates chasms. Between her and whoever she’s talking to, there’s a distance. And it’s kinda sad because she longs to have close, personal relationships, but feels like she can’t because nobody understands her, and she thinks nobody can. It’ll be fun. i love making beautiful, complex characters suffer bye

Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis female (she/her)

Changes: As much as I love Shay Mitchell, I wanna request an fc change to Vanessa Hudgens! I just have more muse for her. idk idk

Traits:

CURIOUS  ━ As a child, bright and starry eyed, there was a lot about the world around her that Charlotte didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t necessarily because anyone was hiding anything from her (for there weren’t many secrets in the Zerilli household. There was no shame, no need). Rather, there was so much for her to learn and so little time. She wished to know everyone and everything intimately. Twenty years on and not much has changed, although she’s become more subtle in her questions and artful in her use of information.

SECRETIVE ━ Charlotte has this curious ability of making it seem like she over-shares, is honest and straightforward, but there are worlds and worlds she hides. Mainly, what she perceives to be her weaknesses. The most obvious is prooobably the Mafia thing. While she’s become more accepting of it (or, more specifically, the softer aspects of it - i’ll explain later), it’s still not something she talks openly about. Still, it subconsciously shapes her. Behind her mercy, her kindness, is a vain attempt to balance out her family’s crimes. She overcompensates for wrongs she didn’t commit. Not only this, but she doesn’t really talk about her feelings, either, internalising emotion and stress to the point of it being physically detrimental. She’s also big on denial. Always running.

COMPASSIONATE ━ It is perhaps this that came as the biggest surprise to her father and mother although, to be fair, they should’ve expected it. Instead of being given half the love, the Zerilli twins received double from their parents. There was not a moment Charlotte was allowed to feel alone. Her heart surges with the same affection for everyone, not just reserved for family like her father’s is.

VERSATILE ━ Multifaceted and adaptable, Charlotte can go from sleep-deprived academic, slaving away in one of Oxford’s many libraries to out-of-your-league party girl to loyal, advice-giving friend whenever it’s required of her. (Not that her heart truly fits into the moulds she creates for herself, but that’s another story.) The girl prides herself in being able to talk to anyone about pretty much any trivial topic. It is, she believes, an ode to having so many different people around to engage in idle chatter with her growing up, united by nothing but their ties to the Mafia. Her variety of talents, too, (piano, violin, dancing, tennis, painting – it goes on) showcase how her ability knows no limits.

FICKLE ━ An extension of above: because she’s everything, she’s nothing, really. Charlotte’s ephemeral and changeable. Always evolving. Indecisive. Not only about what to eat or what to wear, but about herself and her beliefs, too. For example, she no longer resents her bloodline, which was one of the strong moral stances she took as a teenager. Her perception is constantly changing. And because she’s so perceptive and intelligent, Charlotte can appreciate arguments and situations from different angles – being stubborn in a view means the exclusion of another, so she remains, like air, unsure, always hovering in between poles, restless.

SUPERIOR ━ She’s been running and running from it but, like everything, one chilling fact has caught up to her and there’s no denying it, at least not to herself: Charlotte Zerilli is lonely. How? In a room crowded with awestruck admirers, how is it possible that she feels so isolated? That’s exactly it – everyone’s just an awestruck admirer. Nobody’s really on her level (except Miles !!!! love it).

DEMANDING ━ Of herself. Of others. Her standards are about as high as the walls around her

Extras:

For the course, I was thinking something partly humanitarian – in a vain attempt to, perhaps, ask the God she desperately believed in for forgiveness (saving lives to redeem all those lost at the hands of her family) – with strong scientific elements because she’s lowkey a nerd. aka Medicine. I can go into a lot of unnecessary, extra depth about this decision if you want me to but that was the condensed version

MUSINGS: (faves are bolded) one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven when will i stop twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen probably never sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen and finally twenty

PARA SAMPLE

did i accidentally write a short novella? yes. i’d apologise but i’m not sorry for making you read this

He’d been asking for years (and years and years) and, for a reason Charlotte couldn’t explain more tangibly than it felt right, on this mild Tuesday afternoon, she’d finally agreed. She’d go with him. “Yes. I’m ready,” she’d said, standing in his excessively large office that morning, voice betraying only a slight hesitation. He hadn’t picked up on it. Nobody ever really did. Rather, the light – was that pride? – Charlotte saw swimming to the surface of her father’s eyes served to remind her why she’d ever come back in the first place.

So she smiled, ducked her head and walked with him. As they weaved through the streets of Detroit, she was vaguely aware that this wasn’t a typical Don errand – not that she really knew what that was, granted, having spent the majority of her life actively not knowing. Of course, she’d heard whispers. How could she not have? She’d heard stories about how members of La Cosa Nostra beat people up, stole from them, killed them. Under her father’s orders. But Charlotte had never dared to bring it up with him. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the confession. (Because, who was she kidding, it would’ve been a confession.)

If this was the case, what was she doing here and now? Staring into the eyes of the beast? God knows, she thought, kicking a can that was littering her path, adding to the little mound of rubbish piling up on the side of the road. But she sort of knew, too; it’d been, perhaps, a moment of weakness on her part. For resistance was so tiring. Running was tiring. She craved nothing more than her mother’s arms, her father’s kiss. So Charlotte did something that just a few years ago, she believed was synonymous with weakness, and maybe it was: she surrendered.

“This is it, Tesoro,” her father said at length. She glanced up to find they’d stopped in front of a house – or, she supposed, it was more of a shack. Charlotte watched as he brought his knuckles to the door, about to knock, the gold of his rings forming a stark contrast with the red, peeling paint.

Everything inside her screamed run, run, run. This wouldn’t end up well. No doubt. She was on the brink of witnessing her very first Mafia crime, about to stare into the heart of the Partnership’s – her family’s – sins. Guilt eyed her, licking its lips. It’d swallow her whole.

“N – no. Stop. Please. I can’t do this.” She felt sick. She had to get out of here.

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his gaze flitted to the Capo who’d been trailing behind them. When he turned back to his daughter, his head tilted to the side, as if he understood her concern, and he smiled. In that second he was no longer the Godfather, but just her father. “Come on, Charlotte. Don’t you trust me?” But he changed back again. He always changed back again. Before she could answer (and the answer, as much as she hated it, in this moment, it would’ve probably been no), he’d already knocked at the door.

This was it.

The boy who answered couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Upon realising who it was, his eyes darkened, she guessed in fear, as she’d seen so many others’ do in his presence. They knew what he was capable of. If they even made one wrong move, they’d be, quite literally, dead. She wished it was over already.

“Boss,” he spluttered, bringing her father’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

The older Zerilli nodded in greeting. “This is my daughter, Charlotte.” As the boy moved to kiss her hand, too, her resolve faltered. Surely people didn’t introduce their kids to people they were about to murder. Then again, she didn’t know enough about Mafia customs to recognise that this wasn’t a murder mission at all, that he had people for that, and that this was a compassionate one.

“Will you come in? I can make – what d’you want? Tea? Coffee? I have Scotch.”

Her attention piqued; so she was wrong. Huh. Interesting. If not to beat this kid up, why were they here, then? Her eyes wandered inside, past the boy in the doorway, trying to pick up clues as her dad answered, “Not today. I just came to deliver this.” He handed him a thick envelope. Cash. It had to be. “How is she?”

“A lot better, Boss. Thank you so much for this. It really –”

He held up a hand to silence him. “Of course. It is our duty to help our family, at any cost.”

As they continued this conversation, it occurred to Charlotte, tuned out of the world and into her own mind for a moment, that she’d got it so very wrong. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. An odd sense of honour filled her at the scene; the same father who steadfastly looked out for her and her brother was using his position to look out for this (what she presumed was a) picciotto, too, and if there was one, there may be many more. They were – in his eyes – family. The Detroit Partnership. All the racketeering and the beating were somehow justified, at least a little bit, in her mind by this one act of compassion. How could she have been so judgmental before? It was her father’s blood that coursed through her veins, that made her strive to protect those who could not protect themselves. People like the ‘she’ he’d referred to. And who was she? Probably a sick relative. Mother, sister. It didn’t matter, really – all she knew was that it was someone who needed help. Help that the capofamiglia provided.

And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.