immoralrpg-blog

[immoralrpg-blog]

All the pages have been updated to reflect the new information! Here’s a gentle reminder that there will be a second round of acceptances at 6AM GMT.

[immoralrpg-blog]

And with that, acceptances are over! Congratulations to those who made it --- every app received was undoubtedly fantastic, and there were a lot of tough choices. For those who were short on time or would like to try again, the submit has been reopened and there is a second round of acceptances tomorrow at 6AM (GMT). I’m going to reply to asks and update pages in the morning, but for now, I’m going to get some sleep. 

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, LEX, you have been accepted for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE, with the faceclaim of LEE HYUN JAE. It is both an easy and common mistake to portray Severus as the villain --- however, your portrayal gives us an insight to the reasoning behind those actions, and the subsequent, sneaking guilt that follows. Wherever you decide to take Severus next, I have no doubt that it will be a complex and interesting ride! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: Severus “Sev” Snape GENDER & PRONOUNS: Genderqueer (closeted), any pronouns (he/him default) FACECLAIM: Lee Hyun Jae, Go Sang Gil, Lee Soo Hyuk BIOGRAPHY: (cw for abuse) You levitate the silverware on the dinner table when you’re three. It’s harmless, and wouldn’t be a big deal if your Muggle father had been aware of his wife’s magical talent. Later, you’ll wonder when exactly Eileen was planning on telling Tobias, but you can never quite get the words out; either because you know deep down that wasn’t what really started the fighting, or because your mother is the only person you can’t bring yourself to hurt. Still, your earliest memories are of your parents fighting. there’s always yelling, and things breaking, and then by the time you hear the dull thump of your mother being thrown down the stairs it isn’t just fighting anymore. Most kids learn the difference between good and evil through fairytales, but your mother never has enough bedtime stories and Tobias Snape is worse than any imagined villain. It all goes back to your father. It’s hard to learn the difference between right and wrong when the only example you have to learn from is him. Because by the time you meet her, it’s too late. She’s good and wonderful, but by nine years old you know this: Poor, creepy little kids like you don’t deserve girls like her. You still latch on, maybe too tightly - how could you not? Lily is the best thing in your life right now, the best thing you can remember - but it’s with the knowledge that she could choose to give up on you at any point, decide she doesn’t want to be friends anymore, and that will be it. No contest. Class segregation is a bitch. That you both have magic doesn’t make much difference. Because as much as you talk about Hogwarts, there is a very large possibility you may not be able to go when your letter comes, if your father chooses to put his foot down. As it turns out, he’s too drunk out of his mind to put up much protest, these days. Truth be told you don’t remember much from that day; there was shopping at Diagon Alley you’re certain, because there hadn’t been enough money for books and you’d quietly pocketed The Standard Book of Spells while your mother wasn’t looking. Then there was the train station, meeting up with Lily, but that isn’t what eclipses the rest of the day. No, then you meet them. Funny how that first day on the train, being teased by those boys, essentially determines the outcome of the rest of your Hogwarts career. Incidentally, that’s also part of the reason - besides Lily, of course - that when the hat goes on your head you wish and wish for Gryffindor. In Slytherin, you learn to keep your head down. For a long time, you hate the Sorting Hat, can’t fathom why it would put someone with your blood status and socioeconomic background in Slytherin. Then, you start to hate yourself instead. It’s clear, after a few years if not immediately, that you’ll never belong anywhere. That group of Gryffindor boys picks on you and most of the rest of their house follows suit. Meanwhile in Slytherin, your classmates tolerate you. Tolerate might be too strong a word. People like you should be seen, not heard. The only time your presence is required is when someone needs a potions tutor, or to copy homework. The situation with the Marauders worsens, until ultimately Sirius Black tries to kill you and you walk out of the encounter with nothing but an acute phobia of werewolves and a life debt owed to James Potter. You still aren’t sure which part is the worst. But as hard as the school years are, the summers between are worse. Having Lily as a friend eases some of the pain, and maybe you lean on her too much, but you don’t exactly have anyone else to depend on. And by June 1976, you don’t even have her. One summer passes in near isolation, then the school year. You still talk to Lily, sometimes, but the distance between you isn’t easily closed. She keeps you at arm’s length, and you’re the first to admit (after you’re done begging for forgiveness) that you deserve it. Because people like you don’t deserve people like her. It’s not nice and it’s not fair but it’s how the world works, and you’ve given up on fairness a long time ago. That isn’t to say it doesn’t get to you, though. The anger and resentment (at yourself, always about yourself) builds up to a breaking point. And at that point? It isn’t even about Potter, even though it’s him you almost killed. Trying to relieved some tension, but was it worth it? You haven’t figured that out yet. You’ve had other things to think about. The summer is long, and you’re running out of places to go to avoid your father. At least, a sweatshirt covers most of the bruises.

QUESTIONAIRE

expand on one ( or more ) of your connections. tell us about them. your relationship with them.

There’s a part of him, a rather large part of him, that doesn’t know if he wants her or wants to be her. Severus doesn’t know how to talk about Lily without accounting for that part, so most of the time he just doesn’t. He’s uncomfortable even thinking about it - see, how he hides his face behind his hair, how his eyes skirt around the room to find something, anything else to focus on. It’s time to grow up and stop focusing on what ifs (what if I was pretty/popular/nice/good like her). In contrast, the stupid crush that isn’t a crush anymore, is an easier pill to swallow. At least the heartache is something he knows how to deal with. He taps his fingers against his leg, restless, movements jittery. “It is, perhaps, too cruel to say I resent her. I know I am well overstepping my boundaries to say the hard feelings go both ways. Still, if tomorrow she decided she wanted my friendship back, I wouldn’t even have to think about it.” Then, lower, a barely audible murmur: “I miss my best friend.” It’s the most juvenile thing he’s said in a long time.

pick one word to describe yourself. why that word?

Well, there are a lot of words Severus can think of to describe himself, and none of them are very pleasant. Some were learned, and none apply to the entirety of his situation. He doesn’t want to parrot back any of the words his father threw at him either, nor the teases repeated by Potter and his little entourage. His voice is cold and impassive when he settles on one. “Unfortunate.” Severus looks away. It’s true, and whether the term is self-deprecating starting from his very birth, or simply a statement on his bad luck, is up to the asker.

why were you sorted into your house? do you think you belong there?

To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t know. Sorting usually runs through family lines but… was that enough to put him in Slytherin, half a wizarding bloodline, a family he hasn’t met, a household he wasn’t brought up in? And then, would he fit with any other house in the first place? Severus may not exemplify Slytherin’s traits, but would any other house have taken him? Ravenclaw, maybe. The house he really wanted is out of reach, or at least he thinks so. People tend to be blind to their best traits, and Severus is certainly no exception. He doesn’t answer the question truthfully. “My mother’s family were all in Slytherin, so since it’s a matter of blood, of course I belong here.”

what side are you on? order of the phoenix? death eaters? neutral? why?

He doesn’t have to reason through it in his head, although maybe he should. This is war they’re talking about, after all. Joining up one side or the other incites the distinct possibility of getting caught on the battlefield, but then again, staying neutral doesn’t leave much more hope. It isn’t about his personal beliefs, or which side is more likely to win. Severus’s voice is carefully measured, tone sharp but even. For the first time, he maintains eye contact. He doesn’t mince his words. “I am on whichever side will put a roof over my head and food on the table. Those are not things I can take for granted.”

what do you smell in amortentia?

An easy question, finally. “A clean scent, like soap or laundry detergent. The cheap shampoo my mother always used. Freshly mown grass, like the field near the park where Lily and I spent so much time as kids. Old books and dust, the far corners of the library where I study on a near daily basis… Underneath it all, a hint of aftershave.” And that’s what makes him pause, the part he can’t quite make sense of. The aftershave is bold and spiced and distinctly masculine. It’s undoubtedly expensive, but a scent his fellow Slytherins likely wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. The aftershave is always mingled with pine and something earthy, the woods just after it’s rained. Severus can never place quite what it is or who would have worn it, but it’s achingly familiar nonetheless.

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, IZZY, you have been accepted for the role of REGULUS BLACK, with the faceclaim of MAX SCHNEIDER. Regulus’ struggles with abandonment and indecision make his story a heartbreaking one, and you certainly captured that tragic edge (with a hint of sweet redemption). Your portrayal certainly makes me yearn for any future interactions between Regulus and Sirius! A job well done. Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: Regulus Black GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis male, he/him FACECLAIM: max schneider, nick robinson, thomas doherty BIOGRAPHY:

Growing up as the youngest child of the noble house of Black was a position that few would desire, especially not if they knew the first thing about the family. Love was not half as important as loyalty and anything less than pureblood perfection meant rejection and abandonment. In a different family, perhaps Regulus’ kind and naïve nature could have been shaped into something beautiful. But with his parents’ hands wrapped around his heart before he got the chance to think for himself, there was little room for choice. He learned to love the things they obsessed over, learned to idolize the man they held as a paragon of all good things.

Their approval was addictive for all of his life, though it only became more so when Sirius became a traitor to the house of Black. The rage Walburga and Orion felt at the betrayal of their son was mirrored in Regulus and he embraced it, falling into perfect step behind the rest of his beloved family—the ones who hadn’t traded loyalty for rebellion. At first, the position as the favorite child seemed to fit him like a tailored suit, settling comfortably around shoulders that didn’t know the burden they had yet to bear.

Regulus was born to be perfect. Of course, the same could be said for anyone born to the noble house of Black, but being the only loyal son didn’t leave any room for failure. When he was young and burning with naïveté—that’s not to say there’s not still soft gullibility rattling around inside him, begging for some new hope to attach itself to—he thought perhaps being the heir to the Black crown would be an honor. How could Sirius give it up? How could he not crave the saccharine pride that dripped from their parents mouths, the way they smile in family portraits with their favorite son?

But there are lessons in this world that you learn like the feeling of a torn throat and real cost of perfection was the hardest lesson he was ever to learn. If he’d known that his parents’ love came at the cost of gutting his morals and spending his teenage years trying to scrub the red from beneath his fingernails, maybe he would have known enough to run with Sirius. If he’d known the feeling of rot and regret when he was a kid with a head full of stories of power and purity, maybe the inside of his left arm wouldn’t ache like a knife buried in raw flesh. Maybe rebellion and discernment truly was preferable to discovering the rust on his family’s gilded cage.

With his life pledged to the Dark Lord, however, there was no turning back. He’d taken the dark mark, he’d sworn to serve until his body gave out and, unlike his brother, he didn’t have the bravery to become a turncoat. Then again, as terrifying as the wrath of Walburga Black was, it was a walk in the park compared to what the Dark Lord would do to him. Regulus wasn’t facing being burned from the family tapestry or a life without those he was so desperate to please; he was facing certain death and, even as bold as he pretended to be, he couldn’t brush that off.

Perhaps it was what he deserved. He wasn’t innocent, not anymore. There was no court that would excuse his crimes and he had no illusions that there would be anyone to welcome him if he fled. Even if he could put aside his resentment of the brother that had left him to crumble under the weight of their parents’ demands, he doubted there was enough love left for him to find any kind of refuge. He was in the middle of the ocean with no boat and no life vest and there was a part of him that was sure he deserved to drown.

QUESTIONAIRE

your family life. how’s it like?

A laugh rolls out of Regulus and there’s a sharpness underneath it that could be mistaken for typical unkind demeanor that tends to be present in people like him. He sounds like he fits in with the Death Eaters—like he can match their vitriol and violence without regret—but the reality is that the thorns in his voice are only drawing his own blood. “I’m a Black,” he says, as if that answers the question. A few moments pass with silence on both ends and he sighs, shifting in his seat and tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. The anxiety is easily mistaken for impatience and he’s grateful for it.

“Other than my traitor brother abandoning us, we’re fantastic. Guess we’re better off without him. Wouldn’t want someone like him dragging the family down.” It’s easy to hate Sirius; he’s been doing it as long as his parents have, even if it rings more than a little hollow as the years stretch on. “We’re proud purebloods with the power and money to match. What more could anyone want?”

why were you sorted into your house? do you think you belong there?

Slytherin robes are a sense of pride for him, though sometimes they feel more like a lifeline. They’re a reminder that, even with all his doubt, he’s still who his parents want him to be. He’s not the rebel failure that Sirius is, dressed up in red and gold and roaring his treachery like the lion he is. Besides, it’s where all his friends are and he’s not so sure what he’d do without them; probably make better choices, truthfully.

So, full of that familiar inherited pride, Regulus scoffs. “I was sorted into Slytherin because I’m pureblood and powerful and the Sorting Hat knew I belonged with the best witches and wizards in Hogwarts.” It fits for more than just the family resemblance, the cunning determination he harbors settling just beneath the surface. It’ll show itself someday in a way he can’t yet know, but for now he just embraces the people he loves and the loyalty he values so highly.

worst moment of your life?

Regulus loves his brother. When all the anger and resentment is peeled away, Sirius is still his big brother. He would have followed him to hell and back; the only place he couldn’t follow him was away from their family. So when years of rebellion and arguments finally reached their peak and he was forced to choose, he picked loyalty. He stood by his parents, even as he watched Sirius pack his bags and storm out the door. He stood there, silent and complacent and hurting as he watched their mother burn his brother from the family tree.

Sirius was dead to them.

Maybe that’s why it still feels like grief whenever he sees his brother in the hallways, laughing and joking and looking like a king in his red and gold robes. If he still had Sirius, he’d have someone to talk to and confide in. Maybe it would be enough to save him from the choice he has to make now. Regulus wonders sometimes if it would have been easier to die with him than to live in the hole he left behind.

Quieter than before, he finally speaks. “When Sirius betrayed us.” It isn’t the betrayal that hurts. It’s the abandonment. It’s the loneliness. It’s the pressure. It’s the fear that he made the wrong choice when he watched him walk out that door.

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, ALI, you have been accepted for the role of PETUNIA EVANS, with the faceclaim of ALYCIA DEBNAM CAREY. You took a complicated relationship between a girl and a sister, fleshed it out, and turned it into something beautiful. Petunia’s perpetual fear and jealousy highlight her as a very real character with real problems. Plus, I thought there was something awfully endearing about her reaction to a boggart! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: Petunia Carys Evans

Petunia ;; a Native American baby name meaning “flower”

Carys ;;  a Welsh feminine given name formed from the stem of the Welsh vocabulary word caru meaning “to love” and the suffix -ys

Evans ;; a Welsh surname meaning "son of Evan"

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-female & she/her FACECLAIM: Alycia Debnam-Carey, Caitlin Stasey, Elizabeth Olsen BIOGRAPHY:

I would like to preface this by saying that I don’t actually think the Evans played favorites with their daughters. I think Petunia believed that they loved Lily more, but I think she failed to see their own praise and love for her which was just as prevalent in her life as in her sister’s. This in no way excuses her actions, but I did want to mention it as to her, she feels as though she was neglected.

Also, her bio is very focused on her sister, but that’s because Petunia herself is very focused on her sister even as she tries to find distance between them.

Though Petunia is nearly a year older than her sister, I believe ( though this is something to be discussed with the Lily player ), that when they were visited by a representative from the school to explain things, that’s when the ruse would have started. Their parents would have already suspected as Lily had begun helping Petunia lay the threads to convince them, but this is when they would have “convinced” the wizarding world that Petunia should belong there. How they convinced them, I’m not entirely sure, but that’s when it happened which is why Petunia started a year later than she would have normally and why she & Lily are in the same year. Her birthday is February 14, 1959.

You don’t remember a life without your little sister, though you assume it had to be fairly pleasant. No Lily with her lovely red hair and charming smile. No sister to receive all your parent’s love and attention while you sat idly by waiting for notice. You suppose you were friends once as children, though those days seem like a fanciful dream on Lily’s part. You can barely remember a time when envy didn’t lace your every interaction, when your words towards her weren’t accusing her of some wrong that you knew she didn’t purposely do. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was so perfect. It wasn’t her fault that she got magic while you got nothing usual. But you couldn’t admit that to anyone, lease of all your own insecurities.

You were seven when you realized something was different about your sister. The two of you were still close then, playing in the garden behind your home. You’d share secrets and whispers under the covers late at night, though you liked to pretend it never hurt when someone showered her with the attention you so desperately needed. You’d already begun realizing how different your parents treated the two of you even when they did their best to make you feel just as loved. But there was something about your little sister that drew people in, the same quality that made people look twice at her caused them to always overlooked you. You were just there, not particularly pretty or charming. But you were smart; you began to take notice of what was going on around you. It began with little things. Things that couldn’t be explained normally. Everyone said it was just your imagination, but you knew better. You knew it was her. Strangeness began to taint your interactions with her. You loved her then, but you knew there was something wrong with your little sister. You knew people would notice eventually, people would realize that you were the normal one. But that day couldn’t come soon enough.

You were ten when your sister met a new friend and began to find a life outside your little family. You hated him on instinct. He seemed to love what made your sister different. In the end, he was just another thing that Lily had over you: a friend who liked her for what made her special. Though you hate to admit it, it was he who changed your life. He told your sister what she was, told her about the secret world hidden from the eyes of normal people like you. You’d always been envious of your sister even though she appeared blind to that, but you’d never felt the sharp stab of hostility before then. You’d never been the sweetest child, but you felt yourself lose that last bit of childish wonder as your parents began to shower your sister with love and affection for what just made her so wrong in your eyes. But you saw their reaction towards her and you concocted a plan. You had always been smart, but now your cleverness began to grow. You milked your sister for answers from her friend, asking everything you possibly could. And you  begged her for help in ‘performing’ magical feats to trick those around you int thinking you were special too. You told her that you needed her and always would. That you were sisters, and blood came before all else. And she believed you.

You were eleven as you and your sister set off for school. With all their magic, you had tricked your way into the school. Your parents were so proud watching their two little girls go off, hand-in-hand towards their destinies. It was the first time you felt truly accomplished, like you were equal finally with your younger sister, and the first time you felt true fear in what would happen if anyone found out. That fear waned through the year as your confidence grew. It was always there, lurking in the back of your mind, but you threw yourself into your studies in an attempt to show yourself as worthy of being called a witch ( even as you knew you weren’t truly worthy of the word ). You made a name for yourself: not just as Lily’s sister, though far too many knew you as just that, but as a girl who was not to be trifled with. A girl with a sharp wit and a bit of charm, a bit of sweetness to cover up the bitterness in your soul.

You were fourteen when you realized that you were always going to need your sister even as you detested your reliance on her. You had to keep her close, to temper your biting remarks so that she wouldn’t turn against you. You needed her to help you though you hated the sage advice that always came with it. She kept insisting that you’d be found out eventually and that she didn’t want you to get into trouble, but you always calmed her nerves. You couldn’t risk her backing out now after the two of you had come so far. Even though you didn’t have a drop of magical blood in your veins, you made it a point to always know more than your peers, to make up in knowledge what you lacked in ability. You didn’t need popularity or friends like Lily did, but what you did need was to be the best. Of course, with lacking in abilities, you still always managed to fall behind your sister which only perpetuated your deep-rooted jealousy towards her.

You’re eighteen and in for your last year at school. Somehow, you made it through and fooled everyone. You’d laugh if you weren’t terrified at the thought of being caught now. Perhaps it was that fear that made you look into the darkness permeating the wizarding world. Though you’re part of this world, you still feel like an outsider. You want to understand it, every part of it. And the darkness that is beginning to invade your school has called to you in a way you can’t ignore. You don’t agree with the beliefs that many of pure blood are trying to spread ( you’re not that much of a hypocrite ), but there is something honest about it that you admire. Funny for a girl to admire honesty when your life is built on a house of lies that is bound to come tumbling down sooner rather than later. You’ve always been on a path towards greatness, you continually have to assure yourself, but now you’re wondering if something else might be in your future. But you’re still uncertain what world that will be in: the world you left behind but should be in, or the one you’ve come to love but will never quite belong in.

QUESTIONAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

The girl bristled at the mention of a secret. Surely no one else could know what she was hiding. “I have no secrets,” she insisted, though the words sounded false even to her own ears. She shook her head, almost turning up her nose at the thought in an attempt to make it more believable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her secret was one that would be kept to the grave, one between only sisters. No, she would never admit to anything of the sort even as the crippling doubt began to worm it’s way through the facade of confidence. No one could possibly know; they’d been so careful about it. Any mistake could mean catastrophe for her, but she refused to admit defeat. “Unless you’re referring to the rumor that Lily dyes her hair. In which case, I can confirm it’s true.”

your family life. how’s it like?

“Fine,” Petunia replied automatically. “Everything’s fine.” And everything did seem fine on the surface. Her parents had little idea or input in her life. Though she loved them, she knew them to be clueless about what went on at school aside from the letters the girls wrote to them. Their relationship was fine as long as they didn’t know she had been lying to them for over six years and had gotten their perfect, precious Lily to help her. She knew her relationship with her sister was failing. It had been for years. But now it seemed like the only threads holding them together were beginning to fray and snap. “Better than fine,” she added, more as an attempt to convince herself than anything else.

what do you smell in amortentia?

“It’s a bit strange,” she admitted, “to think of amortentia.” For a girl who had never been loved or in love, she had a difficult time even thinking about the notion of a love potion. After all, who would want some pale imitation of something real? She’d read all the great romance novels: Pride & Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, even Anna Karenina. Petunia knew what real love should look like. Hell, even her parents showed her true love every time she watched them together. She hated the thought of a potion that could fake the effects of love to an obsessive degree. Though she had never experienced it, she hoped one day she would. “But if I must say,” she continued, “I smell coconut, coffee beans, and raspberry tarts.”

what’s your boggart?

Her eyes grew wide at the mention of a boggart. “A vampire,” she said, naming the first thing that popped into her racing mind. Another lie in a string of many. Though she was a bit frightened of them due to the frightful stories she’d heard from a boy in the village she’d grown up in, they weren’t something that she was truly afraid of. What she was truly afraid of wasn’t a monster or a beast, but something else entirely. She was absolutely petrified of losing her place at school. Of her sister finally turning her back on her and leaving her to fend for herself. Of everyone discovering that she didn’t belong after years of working so hard to make sure that she fit in. Her boggart would take the shape of students whispering about her, laughing and pointing at her failure. And it’s something she’s never going to face.

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, NALA, you have been accepted for the role of MARLENE MCKINNON, with the faceclaim of CAMI MORRONE. This was a particularly tough choice to make, but in the end your attention to detail was what made Marlene so stunning. I love the idea of Marlene’s subtle penchant for romance despite the situation she’s found herself in, and I adored the little nods to the pureblood supremacy she experiences through her family. Well done! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: the absolute gem that is marlene mckinnon !! GENDER & PRONOUNS: cisfemale, she/her/hers. FACECLAIM: cami morrone, neelam gill, ana de armas. BIOGRAPHY:

you are four years old & your mother is scolding you for breaking the china glass during supper. you didn’t mean for it to happen, but it was the fifth time mrs. rosier pinched your cheeks and it just hurt so much that you forgot about your uncontrollable magic. later, when the guests are gone, your mother will tell her house elf to repair the broken glass, and that if you ever embarrass her like that again, she will hex the magic out of you with a flick of her wand – all in one sentence. you are going to cry, but not because of her threat; no, you’ll cry because it’ll be the first ( but not the last ) time you’ll think, ‘mummy doesn’t love me.’

you are eight years old & you and your father are having ice cream with a girl named evie and her mum in the park. evie is different from your other friends because she can’t do magic, but your father says that doesn’t matter. unnerved by this, you enjoy playing with her and promise her that she can come over for a tour of your house soon. later, when your parents think you are sleeping, your mother will scream at your father for taking you to the disgusting muggle-infested world behind her back, and that her reputation is done if marley tells anybody. she will suddenly barge into your room to check your arms and legs, making sure you aren’t infected by anything. she’ll hug you so tight that you’re going to struggle to breathe, and your father will have to pry her fingers off your bruising skin. you won’t realize it for another four years, but that will be the last time your family is alone in a room together.

you are eleven years old & you hug your mother goodbye in front of the hogwarts express train. you notice your father slightly flinch at the affection, so you give him a hug and a kiss. you sit with james and frank in a compartment, waving goodbye to your parents as the train lurches forward and they disappear from your view, but a hole in your heart starts to grow bigger and bigger – because you feel like you’re saying goodbye to a happy family you’ll never come back to ( you are right ). later, when you’re sitting in the common room with your new friends, you are going to be curious to learn more about your muggle-born housemates. you’ll be confused when you realize that they aren’t barbaric animals with diseases – that they’re just like you. in the letters for your mother, you won’t talk about your new friends; instead, you’ll talk about your studies, and how much your love your history of magic class. but in the letters for your father, you’ll pour your heart out about how you think mummy was wrong all along.

you are fifteen years old & you zip your skirt as you shoot a mischievous grin at the boy in front of you. when he says, ‘we should do this again, mckinnon,’ you blush, yet offhandedly reply with a sly ‘we’ll see.’ despite your intentions, you think it’s romantic to lose your virginity in the dead of the night, with the stars gazing down at you from the top of the astronomy tower. you don’t tell him this, of course – gryffindor captains don’t have time to care about romance. later, when you receive an owl from mcgonagall congratulating you on becoming gryffindor’s newest chaser, you’ll know that your plan was successful. you’ll celebrate with your friends, accept the gifts your parents send you because they’re just so bloody proud, and you’ll have far too much fun flying your broom around the quidditch pitch with your team. after the first practice, the captain will slip his hands into your knickers while he kisses you, and guilt will resonate with you for stealing the last spot on the team just by taking off your shirt. you are going to hate feeling like an object for sex, but you’ll love the feeling of power when you can get whatever you want with a simple, doe-eyed longing look.

you are seventeen years old & you beam at the recommendation letter your defense against the dark arts professor has written for you. if dumbledore was worried you had nothing going for yourself, this will surely change his mind – you can easily land a job at the ministry with this flimsy piece of parchment. nevermind if your mother frowns at the glowing letters about your work ethic and your father keeps questioning you for your latest report card ( ‘how on earth did you get an outstanding in alchemy? i remember mcgonagall telling me that you would skip that class every week to mess with peeves…’ )you brush it off, and pretend you’re offended they don’t think you’re a star student. later, when you tell your parents that you’re going to be joining the order of the phoenix after graduation, your mother will be livid that you’re choosing to mark the mckinnon’s as blood traitors and she’ll beg you to change your mind( ‘you’re going to get us all killed, marley! why do you have to pick a side?’ ). you are going to turn to your father for support, but the way he’ll avoid your gaze will tell you everything that you need to know – that it’s okay to like muggle-borns and half-bloods, but it’s not okay to fight for them. betrayed and hurt, you will fill your trunk with everything you own and stay with a friend for the time being; unbeknownst to them, the day you decide to come back will be the day your entire lineage is slaughtered.

QUESTIONAIRE

your family life. how’s it like?

“ At the moment, not too great. When I told my mum that I wanted to join the Order, she nearly fainted. I could’ve sworn her head was ‘bout to blow off. My dad, on the other hand, didn’t have much of a reaction, but that’s not good – it’s like when you do something bad in front of other people, and your parent pulls you aside and says something like, ‘just wait until we get home,’ in a calm but low voice. It feels all scary, doesn’t it? That’s what it was like when my dad found out. Except he didn’t say anything at all, so that made it even worse.

Needless to say, we had a huge row. The biggest one I’ve ever had with them, actually. Usually, they don’t talk about the things they don’t like about me to avoid the confrontation. I reckon it’s because they don’t want to lose me… it’s like I’m the only thing holding them together. Mum and Dad have always had a rocky relationship – when I was younger, Mum would go a little ballistic if she was worried about me. Dad hated it, and they used to fight about it all the time.

At least they’ve never let their relationship get in the way of raising me. Sure, my mum’s a little too obsessed with Pureblood traditions, and what my dad thinks is best for me is usually one-sided. But at the end of the day, I can safely say they provided me with a fulfilling childhood. That’s all different now, though. I’m not too sure when I’ll go back to them… ”

what can you see yourself doing in the future?

“ I love Potions. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not that studious. I just don’t have the patience for writing essays and practicing spells every weekend. Ironically enough, I do have the patience for brewing potions. The few times I’ve messed up, I just felt really motivated to keep doing it until I got it right. And practice makes perfect, so now I can brew quite a few potions with my eyes closed – I don’t mean to brag, but it feels good to know that I’m not bloody useless at everything.

I’d like to be a potioneer one day. Maybe own my shop, make a living out of it. I genuinely enjoy it, and it’s a safe route… but I don’t know if it’s what I want. Because I like to be ‘out there’, taking risks. That’s what gets my adrenaline rushing. Sometimes I think I’d be better off as an Auror, but the idea of failure just wrecks me. I think I’d be really hard on myself.

And if we’re not talking about careers, I can see myself married. Not to sound like a hopeless romantic, but I’d love to have a person – my person – who I can spend my life with, maybe have a kid or two. I know I’m young right now, and I haven’t been in too many relationships, but the idea of love is so nice. Makes my heart feel warm. Okay, this is getting a little sappy for me, and I’ve had my emotional limit for the day. Next question? ”

what do you smell in amortentia?

“ Mmm, I want to try brewing this love potion but Slughorn’s too scared to let me get my hands on it. He’s probably heard the rumors ‘bout me, and thinks I’ll use it for a quick shag…he’s not wrong. Anyway, back to your question. I’ll just list everything I can, alright? I have amazing senses, so this’ll take a few minutes.

I smell sweat after sex. Leather jackets. Trees. Firewhisky. The Quidditch pitch. Vanilla lotion. Swimming pools. Watermelons. Caramel apples. Nail polish. Red velvet. Fresh laundry. Perfume and cologne – I can’t tell which scent is stronger. Ocean air. A potion brewing. Burning wood. Tea. Musky deodorant. Old parchment. Muggle London. Peachy shampoo. The aftermath of a thunderstorm. Cheese pizza. Broomsticks. My favorite cafe in Diagon Alley. And… the Gryffindor Girls Dormitory? I blame Mary Macdonald for this one. ”

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, ANA, you have been accepted for the role of LILY EVANS, with the faceclaim of LUCA HOLLESTELLE. Your portrayal of Lily is whimsical and altruistic and not without her flaws, which helps her to stand out as a three dimensional character. You understood the importance of seeing that Lily isn’t as perfect as her sister believes, and her struggles with her own sense of morality make for an interesting arch. Nicely done! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME:

lily marie evans, although her mother was incredibly keen on naming her lily kathleen, which her father wasn’t particularly happy about (as he’d had a neighbour called kathleen growing up, who wasn’t a very nice woman). after a lot of arguing, they settled on marie, as it was sweet and simple like their oldest daughter’s name: petunia jane.

lily \ lil·y \ as a girl’s name is pronounced li-lee. of old english origins, it was taken from the name of the plant having delicate, trumpet-shaped flowers regarded as a symbol of purity and perfection. while lily is most definitely a firecracker and won’t take no for an answer, i think her first name mirrors the hidden parts of her most people don’t see — there’s a childish innocence inside her, a purity that has yet to die. even as the war progresses and she sees more and more horrible things, lily still believes in the kindness and good in people; no matter how hard it is slowly becoming.

marie \ ma·rie \ as a girl’s name is pronounced mah-ree. of hebrew origin, it is a name of debated meaning. many believe it to mean “sea of bitterness” or “sea of sorrow.” however, some sources cite the alternative definitions of “rebellion,” “wished-for child,” and “mistress or lady of the sea.” the name is born in the bible by the mother of jesus, the son of god. as cliché as this might seem, i think that the fact that lily gave birth to harry is a good allusion to mary, mother of god — the woman who gave life to the savior. not to mention that marie has a sweetness to it that goes perfectly with the name lily — it’s delicate and simple, fitting my version of the character like a glove.

GENDER & PRONOUNS:

cisgender, she / her / hers.

FACECLAIM:

luca hollestelle

katie stevens

eleanor tomlinson

BIOGRAPHY:

born in the beginning of 1960, lily was welcomed into an average muggle family. the girl grew up alongside her big sister, petunia, her role-model and best friend, for the girls were truly inseparable — always walking hand-in-hand and laughing at jokes that violet, a primary school teacher, and harry, a writer, were not allowed to understand.there was never a flower without the other, they were merely an extension of the other, the year of difference they had from each other meant nothing. petunia and lily were two of a kind and they loved it.

enrolled at the school where her mother worked, lily’s life was a bed of roses — no worries or too much responsibility weighing the child down except for what she was going to play the following morning; a few worksheets worth of homework being the only thing that turned sunny days slightly grey. it was not until lily was nine years old that she learnt that, perhaps, her life was not as average as it appeared. ever since she could remember, she had done things that most children couldn’t but she hadn’t paid much attention to it — she couldn’t do a handstand like a girl in her grade, so why should she worry that other little girls did not know how to change the colour of flower petals? a dreamer, she never once questioned her abilities, often being too distracted to even bother to notice them: she’d always been different and being so didn’t scare her – lily was who she was and as long as she wasn’t deprived of her free afternoons, what was the problem is she could float right off her swing? it didn’t matter. until one day, as she was playing alone, changing a flower’s appearance, lily met a black-haired boy named severus who told her that she was a witch; that the things she could do were not simply skills — they were magic.

as any other little girl, she was ecstatic. magic. she had always believed in fairies and spells, in the tales her gran had told her about before she merrily drifted off to sleep, but being a witch had not once been something the redhead had considered and yet it made sense. severus fascinated her, taught her about a world she would someday be a part of, became a shoulder she could lean on and a friend she adored – petunia was pushed into the background, somewhat forgotten amongst afternoons of listening to the snape boy talk about spells, charms and potions, of castles and villages filled with wizards. it wasn’t her intention, lily never wanted to push her sister away, and when tuney began to grow cold and cruel, bitter even, the ginger didn’t understand nor accept her actions. a stubborn person by nature, lily too began to treat her sister as she was treated and all hell broke loose in the evans household.

the red-haired girl received her hogwarts acceptance letter mere months before her twelfth birthday and she was as excited to learn more about magic as she was to leave home — wanting to get away from tuney and her unjustified hatred. in her young mind, lily couldn’t possibly understand why her sister had so quickly grown to despise her and, stubborn as usual, she couldn’t bring herself to even ask why. so, come september 1st, the young miss evans was sorted into the house of one godric gryffindor and she soon forgot all about how great severus said that slytherin was.

in gryffindor, the girl felt at home; like she belonged but even though she made plenty of good friends, never once did she ignore sev in front of them — he knew her like no one else did. she was always loyal to the core, never wavering, never giving up, even when severus began getting involved with people she knew were no good, even when his “friends” whispered ‘mudblood’ as she walked by, it didn’t matter because it wasn’t sev – sure, she would have loved it if he hadn’t joined those aspiring death eaters, but she ignored the truth. it was unthinkable for her best friend to be one of them, to want to join voldemort in his fight for blood purity. it was hard for lily not to see the best in everyone. and that was her mistake.

fifth year proved to be a big one for the ginger. she was made prefect, something that made her as proud as anyone can be – she, a muggleborn, was granted such an honour, one she’d secretly wished for but never really voice out loud. a person fond of fairness and justice, nothing made lily happier than to be able to do what she believes is right: those who deserved to be punished, the people who insulted her under their breaths when she walked by and tormented first years, mere babies compared to their abusers, were soon given what they deserved; the people who helped the poor, scared children and respected the rules were rewarded, even if only with a warm smile and a nice conversation. order was always something the witch found most important and now she could make sure it was a constant in the halls of hogwarts. of course, she too enjoyed the power that came with it, the feeling that she was important, that she mattered. it helped her push away the emptiness that rolled over her unexpectedly— that feeling that made it hard to get up in the morning, the utter struggle that her days were more often than not. it kept her at bay, above water. it helped.

everything changed, however, when called lily a “mudblood”; showing the redhead just how much he’d changed since they were nine years old, how lost his soul had become. but more than that, it finally cracked the dam that had kept her controlled— suddenly, she was forced to hide behind a mask of perfection she couldn’t keep up straight anymore ; forced to pretend that she was fine, that she was still lily, when truly she felt like a shadow. her chest was numb, her thoughts slow and taunting, her body so heavy she wanted to cry at the sheer idea of crumbling under it. all that she’d worked for, all that she’d done suddenly was so meaningless when compared to the low buzz of the thoughts that consumed her— she was a shell, barely functioning behind closed doors when she allowed herself to feel the intensity of her new state of being.

the summer, more than anything, is bound to serve as a distraction from the loneliness that this year brought her, from the cold that’s lodged deep inside her bones. she’s trying to survive, trying not to crack, but with every day it gets harder to hide. to pretend. to smile. but she’ll do it, because lily evans does what needs to be done and she has no other choice.

QUESTIONAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

“ it’s… ”  a moment of pause, a wrinkle of brows and forehead. a breath.  " it’s like… floating. you never really fall, you don’t do anything— you just float through every moment, every second of your day. nothing you do breaks your fall, nothing pushes you closer to the bottom ‘cause there’s no bottom. you kind'a wish there was, y'know? “  there was an empty, humourless chuckle that echoed in the room ; lily’s hands moved to tug at her sleeves in a poorly concealed attempt to calm her nerves.  ” anything’s better than feeling like you’re floating through life. and yeah, you could hold onto someone but what if you end up draggin’ them down with you? it’s scary, so you don’t. you… float some more, until you can find a way to crash. the courage to crash, more like it. “  her shoulders shake as if she was trying to push the thoughts away, but her eyes remain solemn— dark against pale skin.  ” and the really fucked up part is that when you float? you have a lot of time to think. and that’s what kills you. “

expand on one ( or more ) of your connections. tell us about them. your relationship with them.

” look, things with severus are complicated, yeah? “  the sigh that pushes past her throat is almost silent, soft in nature as if she’s done so often enough for sighs to hold no meaning.  ” he’s a what if. lots of things are, i guess— you wonder what you could have done differently, what you could have changed if you’d been better, more supportive… if you could have changed anything at all. and you’ll never know, which makes what ifs the fucked up part of life— you’ll wonder until you can remember what happened. “  there’s a moment of quiet, as if the girl was bracing herself for something. wetting her lips, her grip on her sweater sleeves didn’t waver even as her voice did.  ” i miss him. no—no, i miss what he means. that kind'a makes it worse, not missing him for himself. i miss what we used to be, i miss the way he made me feel— the way i was when we were kids. horrible, innit? i miss the lily that i was when things were okay. “

pick one word to describe yourself. why that word?

” brave. “  this time, the smile that tugs at the corners of pink lips is genuine and so is the spark in green eyes. it’s odd and it shouldn’t be there, not after the subjects you discussed— she knows that you know that it’s an abnormality. but it’s real.  ” maybe 'cause i’m supposed to be, maybe 'cause i want to be. it’s one of those things— if you say it out loud often enough you might just make it happen. i might not be brave, i might not even know what being brave actually is but… i want to be it. weird, innit? “  her head shakes and a hand brushes red locks aside— the soft smile still sitting on her face.  ” i guess brave just beats the alternative. who wants to think of themselves as weak? “

[immoralrpg-blog]

Reading these amazing bios is making me realize im not getting accepted. I love writing and rping, but I suck at bios. Mine was less than half everyones length

Don’t lose faith, dear! Acceptances don’t mean length, but are focused more on passion and understanding of a character. Remember: quality over quantity!

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, GRAY, you have been accepted for the role of JAMES POTTER, with the faceclaim of JORDAN FISHER. James’ ambition is what really drives his character, and you knew precisely how to play to that strength without making him seem entirely like the villain. I like the way you played up his ego a little --- he’s a teenager, and those flaws made him seem all the more fleshed out as a character. His loyalty also made him rather endearing, too. Nice job! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: James Fleamont Potter GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale & he/him pronouns (I do have some interest in him exploring his gender identity as things go on, if that’s alright) FACECLAIM: Jordan Fisher, John Boyega, Keiynan Lonsdale 

BIOGRAPHY:Born to older parents, who had always wanted a child and nearly given up hope of it ever happening, James was treated like a little miracle from the start. He never wanted for anything. Though he was taught he deserved the world, his parents also did their best to instill a deep sense of right and wrong in James to… mixed success. They were certainly able to teach him how to love and feel and want with his whole heart, without hesitation.

From his first steps into Hogwarts, James found himself surrounded by all the friends he could want, though he was still careful to pick and choose who he let closest. There’s a difference between friends and fans after all. And while the adoring smiles and cheers from most of the school were nice, James knew without a doubt who he’d want at his side should the world ever turn on him. He befriended Sirius and them Remus and Peter in his first year and the four of them were inseparable from that point on.

While school was interesting enough, James’ interests lay more with bending the rules or finding ways around them with what he learned in class. While his first love would always be quidditch, he was always looking for a new project to keep him busy. Mapping the castle was one such endeavor.

Then of course came the discovery of Remus’ secret. James would always beat himself up later for not realizing sooner. From the very start, it was clear there was something off with one of his closest friends. Sneaking out on one full moon toward the beginning of third year and hearing the howls just confirmed what he had suspected for ages. There had to be a way to help Remus… or at least something to do to keep him company. He was never sure just how the book of animagi found its way to him, but James wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The process was a long, complicated one, and there were plenty of false steps and nearly disastrous mistakes, but eventually, he, Sirius, and Peter managed it.

Of course, it wasn’t all sneaking around after hours or running through the woods on four legs. James still had plenty of time to fawn over dear, sweet Lily. She was perfect, the girl of his dreams, and–naturally–one of the only people in school who wouldn’t give him the time of day. Still, James kept up the playful flirting, eventually growing enough to deflate his ego just a bit, just enough for Lily to let him in a little closer.

Though for years, he was sure the one and only obstacle between him and Lily was one Severus Snape. The animosity there was brewing from day one. James would push and Snape would shove. He was a worthy adversary, that much was certain, though James couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a touch of jealousy spurring him on. But as long as they stood on even ground, it was alright, then he wasn’t just a bully. They were more rivals than anything else. It was easier to think of it that way. Then he wasn’t the bad guy. Though the more he pushed, the more he wondered… what would be too much?

Sirius would be the one to answer that for him.

The night of the full moon, when he yanked Snape away from werewolf claws and dragged him from the Shrieking Shack changed things. They had been running unchecked for too long, he needed to change, to get better. James was no killer, and he would be damned if he let any of his friends end up there either. So he began pulling back, reining himself in a bit more. That left more time for quidditch anyway, something he needed as much as possible if he was going to make the international team once he left school.

Injuries here and there, including a particularly nasty one that left him bedridden for weeks, weren’t going to hold him back. For as long as he could remember, being a star quidditch player was all he wanted to be. Being an auror like his mother would’ve been nice, but his heart was always on the pitch. So imagine his disappointment when the talent seeker arrived and told him no before so much as letting him off the ground. They weren’t looking for chasers that year, the seeker told him, and really hadn’t James had too many injuries this year? That didn’t look good for a potential pro.

So James acted without thinking. There was no one else around to see, no one who could’ve possibly overheard him cast the spell. Like a switch had been flipped, the talent seeker changed his tune, guaranteeing James a spot on the team. James had accepted with a wide grin and taken the man’s hand, doing his best to ignore the strange hollow feeling in his chest. This was his dream, what he had always wanted, but… but he hadn’t earned it. Not really. Not yet. James did his best to force all that down. He could prove himself in time. Of course he would. And as long as no one else was the wiser, his dream was his for the taking. Now, if he could just make it that far before the guilt swallowed him whole.

QUESTIONAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

James shifts in his seat, discomfort creeping along the line of his shoulders, though he does his best to fix a smile into place. “Alright, I know how it looks. And I’ll admit to it. I confunded him, yeah. He wasn’t going to even give me a shot otherwise. Said they weren’t looking for chasers this season, can you believe that shite?”

Scoffing, he shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter now. “Once I get out there with the team, it won’t even matter, now will it? I’ll earn my spot, same as any of them. I just… I just needed a chance, alright? But I’ll prove I deserve to be there and then it won’t matter how I got there. No one needs to know. It… it doesn’t matter.”

Maybe if he says it enough time, he’ll start believing it himself.

your family life. how’s it like?

“My family? They’re great.” James’ smile is easy and fond as he crosses his arms behind his head. “My mum’s a bit strict, but she’s the toughest witch you’ll ever meet. She worked as an auror for ages, only retired a few years ago and I still reckon she could take down any dark wizard who crossed her. Very proud, my mum, doesn’t take anyone’s nonsense, y’know? But she’s softer than she’ll admit. I think she was about ready to adopt Sirius on the spot the first time he came to visit, Remus and Peter too.

“My dad’s well… a bit more like me. But I’ll be damned if I end up as forgetful as him. Mum says he’d lose his head if it weren’t screwed on, and I think she’s got it right there. He’s brilliant though, a potions genius. I think he’s always been a little disappointed I didn’t take after him there. It’s not that I’m bad at potions or anything, I just… I get a bit carried away sometimes and add a bit more than the book says I ought to or change something to what dad’s taught me. Sometimes it works… sometimes it doesn’t. But I know he’s proud of me. If I end up half the man he is, I’ll be happy.”

expand on one ( or more ) of your connections. tell us about them. your relationship with them.

“Sirius is my best mate. I don’t have siblings and… I had friends growing up, but it was always a little lonely. It’s not like that now. Hasn’t been since I met Sirius. I expected him to be a right prick at first, all that blood purity his family goes on and on about. I never cared for any of that shite. But Sirius… he’s not like that. I know he can be a bit much sometimes, but he’s a good person. Don’t care what anyone says, he is.”

Grinning, James cocks his head to one side, his eyes warm as he thinks back. “We’ve been friends since we met just about. Sirius just… he understands me, y’know? I know I can be a bit of an arse sometimes, but he knows when I’m joking and I don’t have to hold anything back around him. He’s been living at my place for a while and I can’t believe I didn’t make him stay sooner. It’s gonna be brilliant once we’ve got our own place. Just the two of us, no rules–and we’ll have the best parties. Sounds a bit sappy, but… he’s my other half. Dunno what I’d do without him.”

why were you sorted into your house? do you think you belong there?

“Damn right I belong in Gryffindor. I mean, I’ll do the hard work when I have to and I’m not an idiot, but if there’s anyone out there braver than me, I’ll eat my broom. There was no other place I could go really. It only makes sense.”

worst moment of your life?

James fidgets, playing with the end of his sleeve, trying to force a smile, but he can’t make it stick. “It uh… it’d have to be that night when Sirius convinced Snape to go out to the Shrieking Shack. I never thought he’d pull something like that. I mean, we pull pranks on Snape and I’ve landed him in the hospital wing a few times myself, but… that was too far.”

He swallows hard and shakes his head. “Just knowing that he could do that to Snape and to Remus… I-I dunno. But the worst bit wasn’t until I got out there to stop him. For a second I thought… I thought I was too late. If Remus had hurt him or… or worse… I dunno what they would’ve done to him. And I can’t stand Snape, but I’ve never wanted him dead. He’s a prick, but he doesn’t deserve that…”

what can you see yourself doing in the future? what side are you on? order of the phoenix? death eaters? neutral? Why?

“Order of the Phoenix, obviously. I expect I’ll get wrapped up in the fighting eventually… seems like everyone does, but of course I’m fighting that load of tossers. You don’t just get to go around saying who should have magic and who shouldn’t. It’s not right. They’re a bunch of cowards if you ask me, too afraid to move with the times. The Order’s got it right, working from the shadows to take care of them. The ministry isn’t doing enough and that’s not likely to change, can’t be rocking the boat and losing the old pureblood money. Once I’ve had a few good years on the International team, I reckon I’ll join up with the Order, it’s the only thing to do really.”

what do you smell in amortentia?

“Made that in potions last year, mine came out a little weak cause I over did it with the stirring, but I remember smelling the ones from the next table over. Evans and Sniv–Snape made it perfectly, of course,” he says, failing to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

He closes his eyes, trying to think back, an absent smile spreading over his face. “It smelled like the quidditch pitch on the first day of practice, when the grass is fresh and the air’s clear. And a bit like the forest, old trees and kicked up dirt. Like those cakes my mum makes when Peter and Remus are over and that old leather jacket Sirius won’t get rid of. And… flowers, soft and sweet, and clean robes fresh out of the laundry and… something that’s a bit like the potions classroom, the smell of a fire under a cauldron…”

A slight frown replaces the smile as his eyes flick open. “Although… that part could’ve just been being in the classroom. It’s sort of hard to tell. I wonder if it smells different as you get older. I might have to try whipping up a batch again and see if it’s any different this time around.”

what’s your boggart?

James frowns, suddenly uncomfortable. The room feels a bit colder and his stomach turns unpleasantly. “Oh, that? It’s uh… it’s always different for me. Sometimes it’ll change a few times before I can beat it. Usually it’s my mates dead or… or dying. Or my parents. I know they’re older. Never uh… never really know how much time they’ve got left. Don’t like thinking about it, but I know they won’t be around forever.”

He blows a breath out his nose and drags a hand through his already unruly hair, sending his curls a dozen different directions. “Suppose that’s nothing too shocking, there is a war on after all. People die… doesn’t make thinking about it any easier. I dunno what I’d do if… if–y’know, it doesn’t matter, cause it’s not gonna happen. I won’t let it.”

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, KYRA, you have been accepted for the role of AMYCUS CARROW, with the faceclaim of MATTHEW DADDARIO. 'Baby, he is mayhem in human form’ --- a stunning line, and a perfect fit for Amycus! Amycus’ self-destructive nature and his love for Alecto are things that shouldn’t really go hand-in-hand, and yet somehow, they do. Your focus on the extra things - like his talent for piano or his other little quirks - is what truly made him stand out in the end. Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: Amycus Nero Carrow.

Amycus ;; In Greek the meaning is “friendly”. Quite an apparent contradiction to him.

Nero ;; An ancient Sabine name that meant, “strong and energetic”. In Latin, “black”.

Carrow ;; It is derived from the old English word ‘carr’, meaning “rock”, and a word of Celtic origin; ‘hoh’, meaning “spur of the hill”.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale. He/Him. FACECLAIM:

Matthew Daddario.

Douglas Booth

Jack Falahee

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: SLIGHT ABUSE MENTIONING; SELF DESTRUCTION

Amycus Carrow, distant and unsalvageable. He who is drunk on the great, devastating void. He who has become a part of the abyss; devoting oneself to playing the role of the destroyer. Baby, he is mayhem in human form. You knew long ago you should have walked away when he was headed your way. And yet, this monster was once a boy. That unresponsive heart of his once had a strong pulse.

Born into the Carrow line, seconds before his twin sister, Alecto, the title of heir hung over his head like an axe just waiting to come down. He was first; baring the weight of expectations and facing the harsh responses to failure. Despite this, he bloomed in the midst of darkness. He gladly accepted each challenge and flourished because of it. There wasn’t a trial he couldn’t overcome. There wasn’t a test he finished without perfect marks. He was a Carrow, after all. And Carrow’s were conquerors. They would swallow their own blood before they swallowed their pride. They would raise hell for one another before anyone dared to harm them.

Thus, there is a reason only one name has ever been scrawled upon his heart. One person. One reason his acute loss of feeling hasn’t completely vanished. Alecto. His sister, his blood, and his other half. His love for his sister is insurmountable. He may fight, curse, and often wish to extract her tongue from her body - but, he still doted on her. There was never any question of if he would ruin another person for hurting her. It was only a matter of when would he. Amycus knows she can handle herself, but he does not tolerate any harm to those of his blood.

Or maybe he should say he use to not tolerate it. It is difficult to muster up an ounce of attentiveness when his brain is shot and words slurred. If he just put the bottle down for one second he might see the fire blazing all around his mesomorphic frame. It’s a shame those perfect marks and dashing smiles couldn’t save him. It is far too late now, though. They long ago destroyed the boy in him. His parents could have held their tongues, or their fist. But, they didn’t. And his heart became polluted with bitterness; chains shackling him to that one emotion. No longer did he flinch, grovel, or take rage out on himself. He stopped doing what was asked or following every rule, and just drank bottles dry at every pureblood party he attended. He stopped living by the rules and started living for the risks.

Somewhere along the way he lost himself. He crumbled into nothingness only to rebuild himself in the image of something monstrous. But, my god, was he still good at playing human. It is so easy to forget every horrible thing he has done with his tongue across your skin, his words etched into your heart. He speaks inhumanly pleasurable things only to rip your still beating heart out of your chest. Looks like he isn’t playing the role of destroyer anymore, darling. He stopped playing awhile ago. Now he has become the destroyer; and it only took destroying himself to get here.

QUESTIONAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

“ Secret. What secret? ” He laughs, the sound piercing the air sharper than a chill upon exposed skin. “ Do you think any of us have secrets? Because I think that just being alive means we don’t have any. In this society, we are all under a microscope and exposed. ” A pause. Amycus straightens his spine as clipped fingernails scrapped against the wood of his wand. “ Secrets are only secrets if somebody is dead. ”

The question is, who would he have to silence to keep his? He checks himself. Swallowing hard and looking away. Only one person knew how deep his trouble ran and she wouldn’t breathe a word of it. Yet. Part of him worries that it’ll only be a matter of time before she gives up hope, too. Fuck. Did he really just think that as an actual possibility? Never. It was just a couple drinks every now and then. He’s allowed that. No, he is owed that.

When his eyes find theirs again, he’s calm.

your family life. how’s it like?

“ Fuck man. How about personal. Does that describe it well enough for you? ” He snaps. Something flickers across his face, possibly pain, but it disappears as he tilts his head back, eyes look fixedly at the ceiling. For long moments, he stares at the ceiling, something burning inside him. If there was anything to say, it would never come from him.

pick one word to describe yourself. why that word?

“ Conqueror, ” he cuts in, a small curve lifting the side of his lip. There is no hesitation. He knows who he is. Empty liquor bottles may litter the floor, the faint stench on his breath. But, that doesn’t erase his blood. It vilifies him, yes. His parents would be in a frenzy and the Ministry indignant over him. None would remove his title, though. Lest they try and be met with bruised, cracked knuckles meeting flesh. A rampage bursting forth from him that they would soon wish they hadn’t set into motion. His voice inches louder, “ I’ll always be known as a conqueror. It’s in my blood. ” It’s spoken with such breathtaking surety. Why does it taste like a lie upon his tongue then?

what side are you on? order of the phoenix? death eaters? neutral? why?

He remains expressionless. His eyes contemplatively look at them, making them squirm a bit under scrutiny. He thought of how quickly he could force a frisson of fear to travel down their body if he spoke openly, without distortion.

It appealed to him. Would their brow furrow further or would they go bug-eyed? No, some part of him knew their fury and fear would both be magnified. Once they heard a morsel of the gory details they’d pray they hadn’t. They don’t understand. None of them do. They point fingers at others and call them villains before ambling off to seek out another to condemn. What if he were to say neutral? Would they not just laugh in his face and call him a dirty, rotten liar? They already selected his side for him moments after being sorted into Slytherin.

Avoiding an answer, he never once breaks his gaze as he poses his own question. “ Why don’t you tell me? ”

what’s your boggart?

" Ah, wouldn’t everybody like to know that. ” He’s never thought about it. Somehow he already knows, in his bones, though. There’s a quiet knowledge and it lingers. Lingering when he goes to parties, when he drinks a little too much, or when silence seems to be the only thing between them anymore.

Alecto could leave him. She is here now, but for how long.

Already has laughter been replaced by brows knitted in a frown. He will plod down the hallways at home, swaying fiercely, while she merely huffs at him with disapproval. Day after day, he drinks, and he drinks, attempts at stitching himself up. And he no longer opens up. So, at least, he knows it will be his fault when she stops covering up his late nights.

Still, his form begins to hunch forward, only slightly, as well as the tiniest droop of his head. God, he can be such a damn coward. All these minuscule withdrawals and distance - it’ll give him plenty of solitude soon enough, whether wanted or not. And it’s a paralyzing thought. Because, honestly, he doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him. Sure, it is easy to blame his upbringing and the alcohol. If that was it, though, then why couldn’t it be fixed by Alecto, Regulus, or even Petunia. Why did he still feel this need?

Forking his fingers through his hair for the third time, his leg bounces ferociously beneath the table. “ Uptight people. I mean, really, some of you need to learn how to let loose. ” He laughs. It’s a soft, choked sound. He doesn’t expect them to believe him. Even he doesn’t believe himself. He only leaves it at that.

Deep down, buried beneath layers of built up indifference, a voice screams at him to say it. Once. Just once. Even if it is only for yourself. Abandonment.

He doesn’t. Rather, he gets up from his seat, stretching extravagantly and yawning, eyes never meeting the others again. “ So, we’re done here. ” He states with no room for argument. Pausing only a second, as if waiting for them to challenge him, before taking long-legged strides out of the room.

[immoralrpg-blog]

will you be posting things one by one or a list of evryone who was accepted

They’ll be posted one by one, in alphabetical order!

[immoralrpg-blog]

Congratulations, BEX, you have been accepted for the role of ALECTO CARROW, with the faceclaim of BRIDGETTE LUNDY-PAINE. Bex, you captured the essence of Alecto perfectly! I adored the way you added complexity to Alecto’s harshness, and layers to her personality beyond ‘wild child’. Alecto’s relationship with her twin is a complicated one, and you managed to make it both loving and a little bittersweet at the same time. Well done! Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

IC

CHARACTER NAME: Alecto Carrow

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cisgender female, she/her

FACECLAIM: Brigette Lundy-Paine, Adelaide Kane, Zoey Deutch ( I’m genuinely willing to play these, or any of the ones you listed within her skeleton if you’d rather those )

BIOGRAPHY:

Nature and nurture are curious things, especially when it comes to children and their own wickedness. Is someone destined to be cruel, to be harsh, from the very start? Or is it instead taught, learned and emulated by the children of wicked creatures? No matter the case, Alecto Carrow was caught and trapped in a web from her birth, silk strands twisting and shaping her into a model of Carrows who came before.

She can remember her first lessons as a child. When her gaze flitted towards the window or towards her brother, rough fingertips would grab her chin and face her forward once more. No matter who was speaking to her, all of her attention needed to be given to them. She learned this quickly. Wands were jabbed into the small of her back to ensure her shoulders were back – a Carrow couldn’t slouch – and more than once she was told to watch her tongue the moment her lips parted, as if a complaint was expected from her. Disrespect was not tolerated, and any expectation met less than perfectly was inexcusable. It was as simple as that.

But these spoken lessons were not all she learned. Silently, she stood by her brother’s side behind her parents when they were in Knockturn Alley or at the manor of another pureblood family. However, she was never absent-minded during these times, with her mind caught away in some childish fantasy. Alecto paid attention to her parents and grandparents alike, her gaze steely and with a determined focus. She emulated the way they raised their chins and looked down upon others; she learned to speak like them by echoing phrases she heard them utter. In the mirror, long after Amycus had gone to sleep, she looked at her reflection and tried to mimic the cool smile her mother wore; she hoped one day to wear the same sort of ferocity within her expression. On a child, these looks seemed precocious, but she grew into the countenance well.

With dark eyes and a smile that bordered on feral, there was always something almost ominous about Alecto. Most found it off-putting, but that never concerned her. She had her place in society, she had her brother as her dearest confidante – if someone could not put up with her callousness, her domineering nature, those were not the sort of people she needed to be around. Alecto never questioned what she was supposed to be. She wore her labels well: Carrow, Slytherin, Pureblood. These defined her, and from a young age she knew who she was expected to be come graduation.

Still, with naivete and youth, there came allures and vices. Once out from under the gazes of her guardians, Alecto blossomed under the dim lights of parties, alcohol running hot through her veins. She didn’t go out every night, but she didn’t hold herself back from letting go every once in a while.There was never any doubt she could be the life of party, unabashed and unashamed. With a smile, she could tip back a shot and not wince. With a laugh, she could lace her fingers around the neck of some pretty pureblood boy and have him whispering in her ear a moment later about how they could spend the night. There was a sharp dichotomy within Alecto: for the most part, she was a proud girl, a cruel and feral witch who met all expectations set and then exceeded them. But some nights, she transformed, losing her inhibitions. She was all smiles and glee, seeking the thrill only nighttime and youth could provide. This was the cycle she lived, and unlike her brother she didn’t falter.

And, for the longest time, she didn’t. Alecto was all but perfect. She might not have been as soft as some might have hoped, but she was a competent witch. She knew what it meant to be a Carrow, she knew what it meant to be a Pureblood. There was little tarnish to her reputation. But then the one thing that could ruin it all happened, and all the blame would be placed on her shoulders, she knew this for certain. It was a mistake – the alcohol, Lucius, the baby. Perhaps she should have put more credence into her grandmother’s words, maybe she should have been a little more careful. But she couldn’t undo this.

So she fixed it the only way she knew how. The abortion was her only option. No one questioned her being in Knockturn Alley, and the bag of galleons and the threat Alecto made ensured that the seedy potions seller would not go blabbing about the choice she made. Once it was done, it was done. She was determined to forget about it. No one else knew (though she wanted to tell Amycus with nearly every fiber of her being) and that was how it was going to stay. The idea of someone finding out made her feel like she was drowning, suffocating within fears that had never once risen within her before. She would not let herself be ostracized. It wasn’t real if she didn’t say the words out loud – this became her mantra. It wasn’t real. It didn’t happen. She was fine.

But still, she was rattled. The first time she saw Lucius after she had gone to Knockturn Alley alone, she turned on her heels and apparated away. Her heart was in her throat. She had no feelings for him (nothing more than admiration anyways, she told herself over and over – she knew too well he could never be hers). And then the words caught on her lips before she could say them aloud to her brother. Years ago, they swore no secrets, and the broken promise tastes bitter in her mouth. Besides him and Lucius, there was no one else who might deserve to know, no one she could possibly confide in.

To most, little will have appear to have changed within her. Alecto wears the same steely expression, the planes of her face harsh and her eyes narrow when her gaze falls upon someone, but there is a falter underneath the outer layer. As much as she wants to settle back within the role of perfect pureblooded witch, here is a hesitation within the formerly unshakable girl. Never once has she not had confidence within her immediate reaction, but she’s come to find herself stopping and thinking before simply reacting. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it isn’t, but she can’t help but see it as weakness. Where did the blunt harshness go? When did her razor-edged tongue go dull? There is a nervousness, an uncertainty. As much as she is hoping it’s hidden, the worry someone will claim she’s gone soft lingers. She’s still Alecto, isn’t she? She would love to say yes, but even she can’t say she’s the same girl she was just a month ago.

QUESTIONNAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

She is sitting up straight in her chair, her back as straight as a ramrod. There is an absent expression on her face, and the blankness is unnerving. There is no use lying but her hands are clenched into fists, her knuckles white and her nails digging thin crescents into her hand. The uncomfortableness she feels is nearly palpable to everyone else. “I was pregnant.” Alecto says it bluntly, her voice matter-of-fact. “But then I took care of it.” Where her voice was steady before, there was a wobble when the word ‘it’ passed through her lips.

The muscle in her jaw twitches before she raises her eyebrows. “Do you want more specific details?” It’s instinct for her to be on the defense. “Would you like me to tell you everything I drank? The few shots of vodka? And then the firewhiskey? I had shot after shot, and then I kissed Lucius Malfoy. After, he fucked me in his bed. Did your mum never teach you about the birds and the bees? Is that why you’re curious?”

your family life. how’s it like?

( I wrote this as a little drabble and not quite as a response, but there are at least three written as an answer to the qeustion. I hope that’s okay. )

How Amycus manages to apparate into their home while drunk is something she’ll never understand. But he does it, and every night she’s waiting for him. Her knees are tucked up in front of her, and her head is resting on the arm of the sofa. It’s the sound of breaking glass that wakes her up. Her eyes fall on him, then the broken bottle at his feet, and finally the land on the door that leads out of the sitting room. She hopes that it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone else. They wouldn’t react well, and her nerves can’t handle the shouting.

She stands up, picking her wand off of the side table (next to it was a glass of water and the magazine she had been flipping through idly waiting for Amycus to come home) and she points it towards the bottle. She mumbles a reparo before reaching for it. There’s no more glass, but she’s too tired to care about the spilt alcohol right now. She’d clean it herself in the morning, not doubting that the house elves would report the incident to her mother.

Alecto tucks her wand in her pocket before wrapping her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “C’mon, Am – ” his weight is on her as she leads him to the other end of the sofa. He’s going on about the party he was at, and she can’t help the small smile that comes to her face. As much as she’d rather him be sober, at least they’re talking. There are times during the day that she can’t find the words. Sometimes, it’s easier to say nothing.

Finally, they’re both on the sofa. Him sprawled out on most of it, and her having returned to her previous spot. “Drink this.” He obliges as she hands him the water, and then they’re both in silence. She stares at her brother, whose eyes are half shut.

“Hey, Amycus?” She pauses before saying, “Can I ask you something?”

He says yes, it’s more of a mumble really, and she knew that he would. No secrets. They’ve never had secrets. He knew when she kissed Rosier her third year, she took the fall when Slughorn caught him with firewhiskey in his bag. They never worried about what the other thought before, knowing that the other had their back. Alecto doesn’t understand  know why she was so nervous.

A few minutes pass and then she says, “Am, I did something bad. I did something so bad.” Her hands are trembling, and she’s biting her lip so hard she tastes blood. When she turns to look towards him, she’s both relieved and upset to see that he’s fallen asleep.

He won’t know her secret tonight.

“Your brother never came home last night.”

She looks up from her breakfast towards her mother and she shakes her head. “No, he did.” She reaches for her pumpkin juice, taking a sip. “You must not have heard him.” Her voice is light. “It was just after nine. I heard him come in through the back door.”

Alecto’s face wrinkles with distaste as she continues, “I think he was worried that he might wake you or father coming in the front. Merlin knows the boy can’t come inside without sounding like a herd of hippogriffs.” She rolls her eyes.

“He spoke to me a bit before he went to read in the sitting room. I think Mulciber recommended him something to read, him or Lucius, or maybe it was even Regulus. Mrs. Black sends her regards by the way, I spoke to her the other day” She gives an airy wave, seeming indifferent. “Am and I didn’t talk about anything important.”

She wishes that they did.

expand on one ( or more ) of your connections. tell us about them. your relationship with them.

“Oh, I’m sure Mulciber would have loved to keep playing with his little toy himself,” she simpers, her head tilting to the side as she considers Mary Macdonald, “but I’m having my own fun with her now.” The mudblood girl is nothing short of an amusement to Alecto, and she’s glad that Mulciber left her her. There’s a holiness to Mary, something good and something pure, and in comparison the Carrow is rotten to the core. She could choke herself thinking about the Gryffindor for too long, but when no one else is around Alecto can’t help but relish in the flash of fear she sees in the others eyes no matter how brief it is. She’ll walk by her, slamming her shoulder into the girl just to have Mary look over and see who it was. She’ll shoot a wicked smile just in hopes of bringing worry into the other’s heart.

“Still, he won’t be pleased to know he didn’t break the poor thing completely –” her tone is mocking but it’s not clear who she’s making fun of. Maybe it’s both. “She’s got a spine, that one. Honestly, I was surprised to find that out. Who would have thought that little mouse Macdonald could speak up for herself?” Alecto’s smile twists into something harsh before she shakes her head. “Shame it’s a little too late for that to have happened. The target on her back is there to stay.”

what side are you on? order of the phoenix? death eaters? neutral? Why?

“It’s no secret that my parents respect Lord Voldemort.” The fact she uses his title should not go unnoticed, and the fact she uses it with such ease should be noted upon as well. She shrugs her shoulders slightly before saying, “I would never say they were wrong in doing so either. In fact, I rather think it’s noble what he’s doing.” She sniffs, her lips twisting into a sneer as she folds her arm across her chest. “Why should we act like those muggleborns are the same as us? Our families are centuries old. We know our history, we respect it. They act all high and mighty when it’s a miracle they can even hold a wand the right way.”

what do you smell in amortentia?

“The smell of iron and rust. Saltwater.” These aren’t unusual smells, though someone might cast the girl a strange look at the former. Still, she is a Carrow. She leans in over the cauldron once more, taking in a deep breath. Her jaw clenches and her eyes have focused on a point on the table in front of her. The reluctance she is feeling is clear, and after what seems like forever, she finally speaks, “A men’s cologne – cardamom and mint. I think there’s cedar in it in well.” She knows who wears that particular scent. She would rather die than say his name aloud.

what’s your boggart?

“Amycus hurt – or worse.” Her chin is raised, just daring the interviewer to pry.

It isn’t a lie, not technically. It was her boggart. But she had come across one within an older, rarely-used part of her family home. Instead of Amycus lying dead, she was horrified to see him standing in front of her, Lucius and Narcissa by his side. Even the younger Black boy was there, standing not too far behind. None of them were hurt, instead they jeered at her. They called her awful names, they said that she was ruining tradition, they said it was her mistake. Tongue-tied, she argued, saying half the blame is on Lucius. Even she knew that no one would dare put blame on him if the truth came out. Nearly an entire minute past of her dealing with those abuses passed, and finally she brought herself to cast a riddikulus. She walked away with tears brimming in her eyes and her fists clenched at her side.

“Is that a surprise to you?” Her eyes narrow, and the urge to keep going is burning on her tongue. She knows she shouldn’t over-explain herself, but it’s hard not to. “He’s my brother. He knows me better than anyone.” An uncomfortable feeling has settled in her stomach. He does know her best, and he did once know everything about. Maybe they’ve grown apart, but she would still swear she would give up her life for his. Her voice grows soft, “He’s my best friend.” She hopes that is still true.

[immoralrpg-blog]

hope it's going well !!!! be sure to stay hydrated & take a break if you need to !!!

Thank you! I had a little computer malfunction but I’m back on track and the acceptances should be out very soon!

[immoralrpg-blog]

will you cross out characters as you finish going through their apps?

Sure, I can do that!

[immoralrpg-blog]

How long after you close the submit will it take you to post acceptances?

I’m not sure! Hopefully it won’t take too long. However, there is absolutely no pressure to stay up and see acceptances through. There will be plenty of time to turn in accounts and the such, so you needn’t worry.

[immoralrpg-blog]

( 001 ) for SEVERUS SNAPE ( Lee Hyun Jae )

And with that, the submit is now closed! If you didn’t get your application in time, there will be another round of acceptances twenty-four hours from now, at 6AM GMT, SATURDAY. Before I begin on acceptances, I’d like to say well done to all of the applicants! Every app is truly stunning, and it’s been a good ride. 

[immoralrpg-blog]

Is the appcount up to date?

I’ve just updated it, dear!