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At first, she is unaware that it is she whom is being addressed. When the voice drifts her way and she allows her brain to, unfortunately, register the blither coming out of the man’s mouth, she turns her head to lock eyes with him. Slovenly, classless. The blond tilts her head back, peers down her nose at him, gelid gaze settling like a staring contest.

“What do you have against Armani?” she asks, timbre uncharacteristically soft for someone of such demeanor. Jericho allows a smirk to crawl up one side of her face and she fully turns toward him. She takes a single step towards the coffee table that separates them, leans down, and pulls the table out from under his feet, her eye contact never once breaking.

“Such bad manners. And how do you suggest I dress like I’m suffering, then?”

She’ll humor him, for the moment.

@machia–vellian – LIKED.

    “You’re not being impressive, you know.”

    Akachan’s a little jittery, but that’s nothing new. He slouches in the lobby of the hotel he’s pretending he has no ownership of, and gives her a lazy, crude once-over. His upper lip curls in distaste for her choice of dress, a gold tooth glinting obnoxiously, as if to remind her that his opinion is valueless, that he has no class whatsoever. He props his short legs up, one over the other, on a coffee table scattered with copies of touristy magazines advertising local MUST-DOs.

      “You’re trying too hard. Dress like you’re suffering and then you’ll look badass.”

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east--moon‌:

There is no break after the tour, which Yingyue didn’t mind at all to keep her mind busy. A week before abroading for her trip to London, her manager had booked the meeting in Tokyo. It was a needed quick trip to be away from Beijing, especially from the stressful process of a divorce. It may be bad timing to be making a new deal (if made at all) during time of drastic changes. However, Yingyue had never let her personal life interfere with her next career move. It’s better to jump into new things rather than to hold back and let opportunities slide. 

Her manager, Jersey, joins her on this meeting taking place in one of Roppongi’s buildings. The actress wears a look from her new collection, a simplified white suit without the draping and pearl brooch as it originally was on the runway. She pulled her hair into a low bun, and her makeup is simple with a winged liner and red lipstick. This kind of look has become a staple for her.

When they reached the twentieth floor, Yingyue immediately felt somewhat anxious about the meeting. She had already broke her own promise of remaining an independent artist a couple years ago by becoming CAA’s new actress, this shouldn’t be any different. She takes a deep breathe and walks out of the elevator with the air of confidence.

The hostess at the front desk leads them to the table that the Victor Entertainment representative had reserved for the three of them. The nerves faded quickly and Yingyue felt sure that the meeting will go well.

“Hello, it’s finally nice to see you,” She says, flashing a smile and bowing her head and reaching her hand to Jericho to shake hers, “I’ve been looking forward to today’s meeting. This is my manager, Jersey Chong. She’s here with me to discuss the offer.“

Some people, regardless of the position they hold in the entertaining industry, will still get nerves upon meeting new celebrities. So many of them tend to have a larger-than-life aura about them. They tend to push all of the air out of the room they enter, command attention. Jericho has never been affected in this way, and she stands to greet Yingyue the same way she would any other person.

As a fellow human. Person. Thought entity, whatever. Jericho takes the outstretched hand. A gentle squeeze, let them think of her as doe-like.

“Indeed,” she replies, her voice feminine in a way that betrays her stern businesswoman appearance. Honeyed it is, but not saccharine. “As have I.” Jericho nods to the manager, a wide smile on her face as she makes the acquaintance of the two women. She sizes them up in a matter of seconds, notes the way the actress dresses, the way the manager stands. How similar they look to one another, though Yingyue exudes a mixture of confidence and nerves.

Not elevator nerves. Some other kind of nerves.

Eyes narrow, smile never fading, and she gestures to the other seats at the table. “Do sit down,” she offers, reclaiming her own seat and gently nudging her glass of wine to the right. Jericho glances up as a waiter comes to present the newcomers with menus, then fixes a hyperborean gaze on the Chinese actress.

“Thank you for making time in your busy schedule to meet me here today, Miss Hua. I appreciate it. As we discussed over the phone, Victor is looking to… glamorize its artist list, so to speak, and you are one of the artists we have our eye on.”

Flattery gets you everywhere.

“I am here to answer any questions you may have.” But she waves an elegant hand towards the menus. “But first, please go ahead and order yourselves something.”

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The world of men has always disturbed her. So arrogant, so weak, so useless. Were she almighty they would be smote, but Jericho has no such power at her fingertips. Witch, a word she had always held to mean a woman, a female practitioner of the magic arts. In the ancient days, the olde days, women were hunted by men for being less than their hubristic expectations. Some that didn’t even have the gift, the power, were killed just because they wouldn’t give a man the time of day. 

A witch they were called, a word that became synonymous with a godless heathen, a strong female, a woman who was not afraid to stand up to the patriarchy. As a child, boys disgusted Jericho: the way they killed bugs for fun, hid them in their pencil cases at school and showed them off during class, the way they pulled her hair, made fun of her name. Then they all went and hit puberty and they’d sit alongside you and move their hands with the patience of Saint Monica of Hippo, move them until their pinky fingers brushed right up along your thigh.

Even from a young age they’d know you wouldn’t do shit about it, that the very audacity had your blood chilled and your heart constricting in your chest like a boa had wrapped tight around it. Jericho had seethed, the classroom around her painted red with rage, and struck her offender with such force that he had needed stitches. And naturally, oh so naturally, she had been the one to get in trouble. Yelled at by the teacher, told to control herself. She hadn't argued, she had only seethed. 

  I see the moon, and the moon sees me,

A girl grew into a young woman, full of bizarre zeal that she would never quite forgive herself for. A creature that came alive in Summer. It brought reptiles like her out of their hidey-holes and filled their brains with ideas of summer romances, hot summer evenings, seances, midnight margaritas, and thunderstorms. Thunderstorms were the choragus, made her want to, to quote her favorite book, ‘eat oysters on the half shell and act slutty’. Made a woman want to worship the grass the rain soaked into, raise her hands high in the air and holler at the big clouds overhead, threaten to be greater than a bolt of lightning, look Zeus in the eye and say, “I fuckin’ dare ya.” 

It was the season for beer, for bonfires down by a watering hole’s edge, for crawling into a tipsy boy’s lap and whispering all the things she could do to him but never actually doing any of them. Leave ‘em aching, leave ‘em star struck. Jericho used to come alive when the weather got warm. She was vibrant, she was electricity. A shimmer of heat, a mirage on the asphalt. 

But then she'd found herself married, found herself carrying children. It was the utter lack of help she was granted that caused her to begin to hate her husband. The way he paid no mind to how the weight of the child inside of her made her feel trapped, desperate. How it took her breath away and sent her mind into outer space. She’d paid visits to the moon on some nights, standing beneath her eerie night light with mascara bled down her face. Why, oh why, are men required to make babies, she asked, exasperated. The Bible and it’s tales of the first sinner be damned, we were all put here by the aliens. 

  And the moon sees the one that I want to see, 

The first child turned out to be what she had dreaded, a boy, a male child. One that might grow up to be just like those little fucks she knew in grammar school. Jericho would damn herself to the devil if she let her son grow up like that. Whisper, she would, in his ear, hints to let him know the proper path. Not the one his father might take were he away from his wife for an evening. The kind of path that leads a man into a shitty lit motel room off the highway no one goes down. No, he'd be a good one. The daughter who followed, she turned out soft. Softer than her mother would have liked. But they were still hers, and love them she would. 

  So God bless the moon, and God bless me, 

And when the moon was the only one that would give her the time of day, time of night, long after the riiiiiiiiirrrr of cicadas died and gave way to a symphony of crickets hidden among the gardenia bushes and the rhododendron, did she raise her hackles like a coyote. Raise them at the man she had married, who had spoken out against her elder sister, a feral woman who Jericho had learned long ago that she would never, could never cross. 

Just like a man, just like the ones that had always persecuted them. The kind that was once a little shit of a boy creeping his fingers up the thigh of the girl next to him in school. Found the fairer sex beneath him. Tilted his head to check out the waitress's ass despite the fact his wife was sitting across from him. Don't be stupid, he would say, and when he drank enough, his large hand would reach out and grip her face like a vice and he'd hiss, Don't be a bitch. 

Of course. A bitch. Just like a woman. 

It had been elegant, the way Orion had reflected in the black velvet of his pupils. She had him pinned beneath her, bodies joined, while the oleanders worked their way through his system, making him jerk, making him seize. Once he had stilled, she had crawled away, perched far and watched him, the way the moonlight reflected on his pale flesh like a specter. Casper. His blood had been put to good use. No sense letting it go to waste. 

  And God bless the one that I want to see.

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——————–QUESTIONS FOR MUN

1. Who has been your favorite muse to play? 2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to? 3. Are there any particular aus or plots that you’d really like to write? 4. What are some of your rp pet peeves? 5. What is the most difficult thing about writing your current muse? 6. What is your favorite thing about writing your current muse? 7. Who was the very first muse you ever wrote? 8. Have you ever written a novel? If not, does it interest you? 9. Do you write fanfiction, or have you in the past? 10. Do you like stylized icons and formatted text or do you prefer to keep things simple? 11. When did you start roleplaying? 12. Have you roleplayed anywhere other than tumblr? 13. Who are five of your favorite characters? (In the rp community or otherwise) 14. What are five of your favorite ships? (In the rp community or otherwise) 15. What sort of muses do you tend to write? 16. Do you like to queue your replies or just post them when you finish? 17. Do you prefer winging it or plotting everything out? 18. What makes for a great roleplay partner in your opinion? 19. Have you received anon hate? If so, how do you deal with it? 20. If you could tell your muse something, what would it be?

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Mahmoud Darwish, from Almond Blossoms and Beyond; “Like a Hand Tattoo In An Ode,”

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The vilest predators are attracted to the heat of their prey. Pit organs, they call them. Sense infrared like the titular predator himself. Jericho Edenthaw does not need this skill, but some in the office like to joke that she has it. Of course they would. A woman couldn’t have any other method of business acquisition, could she? It was either sex-related or something untoward. Had to be, right? That’s how they think, of course, barbarians that they are.

Let them believe it, then.

She is early as always for her appointment with a potential client. Jericho gives her name, biting down on the pronunciation as she repeats it to the hostess who has just butchered it. Terse smile, and the girl looks like she her body temper has just risen several degrees. She follows after her, business suit impeccable, not a hair out of place, makeup tasteful, shoulders back, chin up – eyes naturally drift her way.

And she will never believe that it is because she may look good, no. It is all about presence. Surface value be damned.

Jericho takes a seat next to the window – one she insisted on over the phone. One can see all of Roppongi and further from here. She removes the rose-tinted sunglasses she wears and places them into her pocketbook, forever-anxious hands going for the leather-bound menu.

Fingers flex, the only gesture that ever shows she is anything but put-together. The elevator ride had been enough to make her dizzy, make her knees weak. Stairs were normally fine but this was the twentieth floor.

She orders a glass of wine to take the edge off – before noon be damned – and waits for the other woman to join her.

@east--moon

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4, 11, 18 and 19.

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Jericho was originally created for a 2023 setting in the Harry Potter universe, in which she serves as the headmistress of Hogwarts. She is incredibly forthright, entirely cunning, Slytherin alumnus and former Head of House. I took two months designing her character, drawing inspiration from the face claim’s show House of Cards. In her original universe (which is active, just not on tumblr), she is a long-practicing Legilimens and Occlumens, using this power to her advantage. The only person who knows of it is her husband, who is her ‘partner in crime’, so to speak. I would say the existence of this power is what fueled my desire to create her -- to have this secretive yet frank head bitch in charge who has it out for the Minister of Magic. 

In tumblr verse, she is simpler -- a businesswoman, but nonetheless ruthless. Her goal is, naturally, CEO of her company, something which she works on unscrupulously. The sexism that still exists in Japan, along with the homogeneity, will have resulted in many closed doors for Jericho -- something which she is determined to kick down. 

11. Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Yes. It’s entirely a shame to have Robin Wright not be able to suck face with both sexes let’s be real. LOL

18. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

I had the thought that with her children, she always kept them at arm’s length with ridiculously high expectations of their grades/schooling, but it turns out that they are her only weakness (besides her claustrophobia). 

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

That she is dominating as hell. She refuses to be seen as a delicate flower or whatever one might want to associate a woman with. Jericho is formidable, dangerous, and absolutely not a person one would want to cross.

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Questions About Creating Your OCs

‘Cause sometimes the stories of how OCs come to be are just as interesting as the OCs, themselves. Tell me how your virtual kids came into the world.

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind? 

How did you choose their name? 

In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Is there any significance behind their hair color? 

Is there any significance behind their eye color? 

Is there any significance behind their height? 

What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

Are they based off of you, in some way? 

If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation? 

What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all? 

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

What is something about your OC can make you cry? 

Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

What is your favorite fact about your OC?

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Source.

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Temple of Zeus Lepsinos

Euromos, Turkey

2nd century CE

The temple was built on the site of an earlier Carian temple during the reign of the emperor Hadrian. It is one of the best preserved classical temples in Turkey: sixteen columns remain standing and most of the columns are inscribed in honour of the citizen who commissioned their construction.

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Reblog if you're ok with roleplaying with original characters

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Fiend. Tell me in private?

I am interested in knowing what 'a lot of other things' entails.

Things both appropriate and not.