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rebellicnrising · 1 year

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➶ DID YOU SEE THEM ?! they’re finally back as a MENTOR , and you know they’re one of my favourites ! it’s VOLTAIRE “VOLT” OWENS , the THIRTY-FIVE year old WINNER of the SEVENTY-SEVENTH hunger games! i’m just so excited to see them returning to the capitol all the way from DISTRICT THREE! they won their games using TRAPS AND HELP FROM SPONSORS so their tributes will no doubt be desperate for their wisdom. the capitol just loved them for being so SINCERE , even if they have been known to be SELF-DEPRECATING at times. they DO have a relative in this years games ( niece ) and they DID volunteer to go into the arena with them . ( character IS part of the uprising )

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: voltaire owens nicknames: volt age: thirty-five birthday: july 13th zodiac: cancer district: three gender: cis male pronouns: he / him orientation: bisexual profession: factory worker, tribute, mentor, craftsman horologist ( clockmaker )

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: andrew garfield hair color: tawny brown eye color: brown height: 5'10" scars: several small silvery scars across his fingers and hands, a scar at his temple that dimples when he smiles, an amputation scar just below his left knee.

RELATIONSHIPS

father: arin owens ( deceased ) mother: thalia owens ( deceased ) siblings: violet owens ( younger sister, deceased ) extended family: elianna “ellie” owens ( niece, reaped for the 94th games ) significant other: tba

TRIBUTE DETAILS

reaped/volunteered: reaped reaped age: 18 victor of the: 77th hunger games weapon of choice: traps arena: underground cave system kill count: four token: great- grandfather’s pocket watch

EXTRA

mbti: infp-t ( the mediator ) temperament: phlegmatic - sanguine moral alignment: lawful neutral primary vice: wrath primary virtue: kindness element: water

BACKSTORY

ʜᴇʏ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʙɪʀᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜱᴀᴅ, ꜱᴀᴅ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ

your first breath is clogged with smog, born in the factory district. it’s never quiet and your small ears learn to drown out the noise early, lulled to sleep more often than not to the sounds of production that surround you and the cluster of matchbox apartments stacked haphazardly on top of each other where you grow up. both of your parents work in The Factory though it’ll be years before you know what that means and you’re left with a neighbor who keeps other children in your building- too many for the cramped apartment- for parents who also work at The Factory. by the time your earliest memories start to form, your parents leave a baby sister with you at the neighbor’s and the neighbor lady tells you that you’ll start school soon but mommy and daddy say you have to look after the baby sister and this causes you some distress-- you’ve never been a fan of change. the day that mommy doesn’t leave you with the baby sister but instead walks you down the stairs of the apartment and down the street, you throw a fit-- and mommy tries to tell you that you have to be a big boy, that you’re going to school to learn and become so smart but this only upsets you more and you fight until her hand swats at your bottom and her voice grows stern. you start school with teary eyes and a reluctant heart.

but it doesn’t last long because you find that you love school. you love the teacher and the routine- how every day has the same schedule- and the world that she opens with letters and numbers. you’re exceptionally bright, a sponge that soaks up every ounce of knowledge made available until you start to grow and some of the knowledge presented bores you; there are other things that you would find more interesting. you find that you love working with your hands- a puzzler, as dad says when he brings home defunct motherboards from The Factory ( you learn that’s what mom and dad do all day: they build these pieces that power all sorts of things ) that you tear apart with curiosity and put back together in concentration.

you don’t know anyone in the district who doesn’t suffer from a persistent cough but dad’s cough gets worse and there’s no money for medicine and in an urban district, herbal remedies cost even more than medicine that trickles down from the capitol. soon, he can’t go to work, hardly able to keep drawing breath through lungs that rattle and wheeze and mom is almost never home, trying to pick up more shifts at The Factory to make ends meet while your father drowns on his own air in the bed. you’re fourteen when your father stops breathing and his ashes sit in a small wooden box on the table beside the bed he died in and mom works herself ragged because she doesn’t want you to leave school-- says you’re smart enough to do more, to work in the glass buildings deeper in the district’s center and that she doesn’t want you to end up stuck at the factory like her and dad. you take out tesserae for yourself and violet that year, the baby sister who’s not a baby anymore but still too young for the factory herself but mom works herself to the brink of exhaustion and it’s still barely making ends meet.

you take your father’s place on the line at The Factory, thin fingers nimbly assembling the motherboards you had been taking apart and putting together since you were six. mom resents the fact that you walk to work together and they’re spent mostly in silence; you’re not sure if she resents you for walking with her or herself for the same. you keep taking out tesserae for yourself and for violet; you don’t let her take out any and every year on reaping day you hold your breath until the names are called, exhaling in relief when each year, you pass by unscathed. it would be the cruelest of ironies that the last year you’re forced to stand and be counted is when your name is called. your mother and sister both weep, clinging to you when the peacekeepers drag you towards the train; the last thing your mother tells you before the doors close is that she’s sorry.

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ᴅʏɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ

your district partner is one of your sister’s friends, a 16 year old named piper-- you know her and it’s so easy to replace her face with violet’s and when she cries on the way to the capitol, you wrap an arm around her shoulders and offer comfort. there’s too many reminders that only one of you can win but it’s a fact you ignore; you don’t have any grand ideas of getting out and you’re sure it’s wishful thinking that she’ll get out either but in the meantime, it doesn’t mean that mindset has to follow you. you force yourself into optimism- for both of you- trying to make each step of this process easier for her and in a way, yourself. you have no strategy at first; your hands aren’t used to the weight and balance of the weapons that line the walls or against stands scattered around the training room-- you end up making a complete fool of yourself on your first day for even daring to touch them. the lists of flora and fauna may as well be an alien language to you; you hadn’t even seen grass before the train pulled away from district three. the ropes course comes easier- you’ve had plenty of experience climbing and walking across narrow scaffolding to work on pieces of machinery that created the pieces that you assembled- and it seems like a glimmer of hope. when you present to the gamemakers though, they’re less impressed with your displays as you’d hope-- you leave with a score equal to your district: 3.

but you shine in the interview. pipes had been nervous, so afraid of all the faces in the crowd and caesar’s too wide smile and outlandish appearance so you tell her ( and yourself ) that it’s nothing to be afraid of: it’s just a conversation with an old friend. hadn’t they all grown up watching caesar flickerman from birth? and that’s how you treat him, like an old friend, with a wide and genuine smile and a handshake. when you talk about your home and your family, you do it as if you’re catching ol’ caesar up on what’s been going on at the old home front. the two of you laugh and joke- poking fun at each other because after all, you’re old friends- and when your time is up, your handshake turns into a hug and that winsome smile turns towards the crowd, greeting them with that same familiarity. ( we’re all just old friends, you and i. )

when you’re dropped into the arena, you watch the sunlight extinguish above you and when you reach the platform, there’s no light aside from the countdown hovering in the air in the middle of the circle of tributes, casting all of your faces in a ghosty glow and sending the shadows of the cave system in sharp relief. the cornucopia sits in the middle of this junction, several different openings branching surround the round room and when the count hits one, the lights go out-- and the screaming is drowned out by the starting horn. it’s chaos-- the sounds of screaming and struggling and then the sounds of weapons biting into bodies-- all in the pitch black. you trip over someone and you don’t pause to see if they’re living or not but you feel the pack in their hand and ripping it from them, you stumble off into the blackness, hand outstretched until you meet stone and one of those openings. and you barrel forward, blind. thirteen canons fire after the cornucopia and the light from their projected faces don’t reach you as you push further and further, getting lost in the labyrinthine tunnels.

you don’t stop until your body can’t take you any further and it’s only when legs grow jelly weak that your hand finds a crevasse in the wall, barely big enough for you to pull that thin and lanky body into- and you know that if anyone else were to find that hole and start stabbing, you’d be done for- but your body is too tired to care. as you push yourself in though, deeper in the cave’s wall is the faintest glow-- phosphorus mushrooms and you wonder how they could glow as deep and as dark as you are. you use them as a marker, mashing them into a paste and marking against the cave wall in attempts to create some sort of map to take you back to that hiding place when you finally get adventurous and leave it. the food in your pack is gone after what you believe is two days but then packages from sponsors seem to drop in your lap from skittering creatures in the dark and you eat. there’s a moment in your wanderings where you’re almost done for- foot stepping forward and meeting nothing only to fall back on your ass with a yelp that echoes through the caves- and you ignore the way it travels to crawl on your stomach until you feel that ledge. the mushrooms glow isn’t strong enough to see how deep the hole is and you chance using the flare in the pack.

it’s a tribute from ten that finds you ( you find that out later )- a fifteen year old whose muscles are thick and roped from working with livestock where yours are thin and lean- following that echoing yelp and his knife slashes at your shoulder when he sneaks up behind you. the flare drops and the two of you wrestle, him above you with that knife pressing down and aiming for something more lethal, your hands braced against that knife. when he presses harder, your arms buckle and your legs kick, throwing you both- him tumbling over you and you tumbling back. you manage to grab hold of the ledge and you hear him fall hard and when you look behind you, you see the fall is a good ten feet but that the floor is littered with sharp stalagmites jutting up from the bottom of the cave’s floor and the flare goes out just as you see blood trickling from the boy’s mouth and glinting off the points of those stalagmites that have punctured through his chest. another package comes your way with a salve that soothes the pain in your shoulder from the stab wound and you chance a whispered thank you to whoever sent it.

you lure two more to their deaths that way and as the days progress, you count the canons as they fire and then for a good while, there aren’t any canons that sound. you’re not sure if it’s a handful of hours or a day but you know that there’s only three of you left. the gamekeepers begin to trigger cave ins that push the three of you further back towards the cornucopia and it’s on that last one that brings down the entire cave that you once again almost lose. you’re running, hand pressed against a rumbling wall to guide yourself and the other holding that pack over your head as rocks fall and slam against the pack and your shoulders and then, you trip. careening towards the rock floor, you feel the bounder crush your leg and pain rips through your body but adrenaline helps to numb it, your mind in that fight or flight mode as you shove and rip your useless leg from under the boulder and crawl- pack forgotten, rocks slamming into your body, trying to beat you down and bury you there but you break into the opening where the cornucopia stands, another dark shape in the darkness your eyes have barely begun to adjust to. a canon sounds-- only two left. and when she stumbles in, you grab her ankle and yank her to the floor, dragging yourself up to wrap your hands around her throat, feeling her nails tear into your arms, your chest, your throat. when she stops moving, the sound of the canon fading as you drop into unconsciousness.

ꜰʟᴇᴡ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ

they can’t save your leg and they tell you that it’s a blessing you weren’t awake to see it when your eyes open to blinding light. it takes you almost three days before you can see normally again, your eyes having grown adjusted to that pitch black. the healers teach you how to walk with the prosthetic and it’s like being a baby again, training your body to work with a piece of you that wasn’t there but when you walk across that stage to greet caesar, no one would notice the stiffness in the movement unless they were looking for it. that smile is still warm and genuine as caesar holds your hand- an old friend glad to see the other returned from war, you tell yourself- as you talk about the games; an old friend who encourages you to show off that fancy new leg the benevolent capitol healers have fashioned for you and the crowd roars as you strut across the stage, pausing to lift the leg of your pants with a wink, revealing the prosthetic to a crowd that roars and cheers. you hug caesar again in that tight hug- a hug for all panem, for you watching at home-- in gratitude.

you vomit the second you step off the stage, hunched over some decorative fucking thing that you couldn’t care less about. have fun cleaning my pukes, bitches.

you return home and move your mother and sister in the victor’s village and the lights in the house never go out-- it’s a rule you impose and no one argues with you. the victory tour and the following year returning to the capitol are a blur-- you don’t remember that first year. or the second. but the third year, your sister tells you a secret-- and you wake up. the baby is born just before you go back to the capitol and you hate to leave them, knowing that the baby’s father has no intention of being involved and as such, no fucking help ( and when you see him with his family, you think about how your hands had wrapped around that thin neck and-- ) but it becomes about coming back. and when you look at the faces of the tributes that ride in the train with you, it’s too easy to replace their faces with the face of your niece-- and you start working like hell to bring them back.

one of the perks of being a victor is not having to worry about work-- the job is only for a few weeks a year which leaves plenty of time to pursue interests. and you try your hand at several- fidgeting with prototypes that come from the experimental engineers ( for the games, for the peacekeepers ), whittling, puzzling-- and it’s in that puzzling that you find something that brings your heart unmitigated peace and joy: clockwork. you study timepieces and begin to craft pieces of handheld art with decorated faces inlaid with gems imported from district one, guilt with gold inlay. they become presents for sponsors and soon there’s commissions that roll in and while the demand is definitely more than the output, it’s something that keeps you busy and keeps you beloved by the capitol-- everyone wants a voltaire original.

ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴛʀᴜɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴜᴘꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʙɪʀᴅ, ꜱɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴏɴɢ

you’re approached by members of the rebellion when your niece turns ten. your mother’s ashes have joined dad’s on the mantle in the living room and at first, you’re resistant because all you can think of is the fact that standing against the capitol- against president snow- would only guarantee that more boxes of ashes would line that mantle: your sister’s, your niece, your own. for weeks you agonize over the proposition, going back and forth between the fear that keeps you frozen- head down until the lights come up- and the anger in your heart that grows year after year each time you return home with tributes in caskets. it’s a clandestine meeting when that anger wins out and you sign yourself onto a rebellion.

your job is simple: keep making clocks. continue to create beautiful and coveted pieces of time but with a special addition that you create with the help of scientists from district 13: a recording chip the size of a pin’s head, nestled underneath one of those sparkling gems that transmits directly to a radio frequency monitored only by district 13. and each time you pass one of those beautifully crafted pieces to their new owner, there’s a breath that’s held, wondering if this time is when you’ll be caught-- and you don’t breathe again until the new owner has left, unsuspecting. gamemakers, socialites, sponsors-- even caesar and president snow have been presented with their own unique pocketwatches. there’s a feeling of accomplishment as time passes and those gifts are given, received with gratitude and greed in equal measure. it wasn’t much, but it was something.

two years after you begin working alongside district 13, your sister is killed in an accident and your mind flies into a panic, thinking you’ve been found out. perhaps it’s paranoia but the details don’t add up and you try and pull from the rebellion- you have a twelve year old niece who needs you, you’re all she has left, you can’t risk it-- but you’re talked back down from that ledge. there were bigger things at work here; the steps that you take today keep your niece safe tomorrow. and she’s all you have left too, you would do anything to keep her safe but more than that, you want to create a future for her. a future where she isn’t under the thumb you’ve been pinned under for the last seventeen years.

which is why when her name is pulled for the reaping, you become focused in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been when it comes to the games. and when given the option, there’s no hesitation: you volunteer. you would do anything to keep her safe. but the longer you’re in the capitol and after the execution of those prominent faces-- those that you called friends-- you’re starting to realize that you may pose a bigger danger to him than anyone. and you’re scared to fucking death.

TFLDR + EXTRAS

volt is from d3- lil smarty pants, def has a touch of the ‘tism- got reaped at 18.

his games were in a underground cave system- he killed four people and ended up losing his left leg just below the knee due to a cave in that crushed his leg.

so he’s got a prosthetic leg!

got super into clockmaking and has developed a bit of a name for himself as a craftsman among the capitol elite-- everyone wants a voltaire original timepiece.

joined the rebellion about 4 years ago almost dipped two years in when his sister died suddenly but was talked out of leaving bc we’re making a difference dammit!

puts lil secret recording devices in some of his pieces that he gifts/sells!! sneakily spying for the rebellion!

has a 14 year old niece named elianna aka ellie who was reaped and he has volunteered for her

is super good at masking!! until he’s not

has a paralyzing fear of the dark-- hasn’t slept without a light in 17 years.

genuinely nice guy who’s a lil bit of a weirdo

CONNECTIONS

mentor pals!! literally nothing gets me harder than a good found family bonded through shared trauma. would love 2 have it someday

rebellion pals!! folks who are working with the rebellion that volt would know or have worked with in the past

past lovers/friends!! im a simple bitch i love a good exes plot whether it be a relationship or fling that fell apart or a friendship that couldn’t stand the test of time whatever man im open

ppl who don’t fuck with him!! listen he’s a just a lil dude. some people vibe with the lil dude and some people dont. would love 2 have some antagonistic plots please im BEGGING

literally anything dude i am OPEN.

#mj.intro #for those of u who dont know me #im sorry for being a wordy bitch #for those of u who do #u knew what u were getting into the second this shit was posted #ᴠᴏʟᴛ —— 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬.

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alvadee · 5 years

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Here it is! The “Big Daddy” trailer I payed for!

“Big Daddy” was filmed 1965 under the title of “Paradise Road” and was written, directed and produced by Carl K. Hittleman. It was released 1969 and mostly shown in drive-in theaters and as part of a double feature.

Victor Buono plays A. Lincoln Beauregard, the titular Big Daddy. It is only his second starring role in a movie. People don’t seem too sure on the genre since I read that some called it an action/romance and some a horror film.

The plot is summarized like this: “A visitor to the Everglades swamps in Florida encounters and falls in love with an uneducated girl. But he finds competition for her affections from the unlikely and mysterious A. Lincoln Beauregard. He also discovers danger from nature in the form of vicious alligators and from the mystical in the form of a voodoo witch doctor.”

Fact is since its initial run in movie theaters “Big Daddy” disappeared, it was never sold to TV or got a VHS print. The movie is considered lost.

I really, really wish I could watch the whole thing. I knew seeing the trailer would hype me ven more. But here’s what surprised me: I thought based on the two photos I’ve seen from it and his role description that Victor would play his age in this. He was 27 when the movie was shot but is obviously supposed to be older than that. I think in the close-up you can see a bit of aging makeup around his eyes. And I knew he would play the antagonist in the love triangle but I didn’t think he’d be The town bad guy™.

#alvadee's shit #vb #big daddy #paradise road #Big DAddy HaS nO VirTuE only ViCES #and EveRy WoMaN iN thE sWAmP kNoWs iT #asdfghjklhh

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years

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Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra.

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died.

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less.

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it.

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least.

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right.

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder.

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down.

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled.

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles.

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze.

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling.

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around.

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together.

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate.

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly.

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment.

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself.

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another.

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school.

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way.

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?”

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how.

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center.

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you."

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her.

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation.

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

#ezra x you #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #prospect #prospect fanfiction #prospect (2018)#ezra x reader smut #pedrp pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #ezra fic #ezra prospect x reader #canon compliant #wrote this while listening exclusively to grimes #take that as you will

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sin-tentional · 3 years

Text

⸻justice smith. twenty-six. genderqueer. he/him ; they/them. homosexual & taurus

looks like Todd Wilson blew in two months ago and never left. they’ve proven themselves to be daring & crafty, but being finicky & over-confident is their downfall. it’s only fitting that welcome to the party by diplo, french montana, zhavia ward & lil pump is playing when they leave the motel, where they live on the 3rd floor. rumor has it that they secretly keep in contact with his mother, who's faked her death, and isn't telling his siblings, wonder if that’s why the State Farm Insurance Agent, & Ectoplasm Arcade Maintenance Crew Member moved out of their place in Forks, Washington.

{ FULL BIO HERE // THE MUSE DOC }

i: aesthetics

the very serious question of, “can I offer you a nice egg in this trying time?” whilst very much so, procuring a hard boiled egg from the fanny pack tied to your waist; a high pitched scream from a jump scare, “stop !!!! i coulda dropped my croissant”, and the silent treatment to follow ; relying on the luck of the draw, a shake of the dice, and the furry rabbit’s paw on your keychain to get you out of trouble ; quite literally dabbing on responsibilities ( most importantly the fish bowl filled with condoms your mother left at the front door to remind you of the mistake she’d made in the past ) while screaming abstinence only, unironically ; and the incessant, prickling feeling of having to run away when things get hard when the longcon isn’t a long con anymore.

ii: a playlist

❝ Welcome to the Party ❞ Diplo, French Montana & Lil Pump ft. Zhavia Ward

❝ THATS WHAT I WANT ❞ Lil Nas X

❝LOVE❞ Kendrick Lamar ft Zicari

❝Talking to the Moon❞ Bruno Mars

❝Starboy ❞ The Weeknd ft Daft Punk

❝ Ivy❞ Frank Ocean

❝Runaway ❞ Ye ft Pusha T

❝ EARFQUAKE❞ Tyler the Creator

❝No Problems❞ Chance the Rapper ft Lil Wayne & 2 Chainz

❝Heartbeat ❞ Childish Gambino

❝ Power Trip❞ J. Cole ft Miguel

iii: a study

⸻ NAME: Thaddeus Todd Wilson

⸻ AGE: twenty-six

⸻ GENDER: genderqueer

⸻ PRONOUNS: any, just don’t call him it or thaddeus or tadd or taddy or tadpole.

⸻ SEXUALITY: homosexual

⸻ RELATIONSHIP: might be in a long con with Renato Luna

⸻ FACECLAIM: justice smith

⸻ HEIGHT: 5’10”

⸻ HAIR COLOR: black, dyed blonde currently

⸻ EYE COLOR: brown

⸻ MARKINGS: a scar on his forehead from liquid stitches, and a couple of marks to suggest he’s once had a broken arm

⸻ TATTOOS: none

⸻ PIERCINGS: he’s got a couple he takes out for work

⸻ DECORUM: when he’s not at work it’s T-shirts from Goodwill which he un-ironically likes, socks and sandals, he also likes his denim jacket, also whatever Gabs and Ren dress him in.

⸻ SCENT: stolen samples of Kenneth Cole’s Black, Gain dryer sheets, & faint lingerings of ketchup on his fingers

⸻ POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, confident, daring

⸻ NEUTRAL TRAITS: deceptive, mellow, unaggressive

⸻ NEGATIVE TRAITS: finicky, hubristic, over confident

⸻ ZODIAC: taurus

⸻ ALIGNMENT: lawful evil

⸻ MTBI: esfp

⸻ ENNEGRAM: 4 w 3, 8

⸻ TEMPERAMENT: sanguine

⸻ ELEMENT: fire

⸻ PRIMARY VICE: greed

⸻ PRIMARY VIRTUE: humility

⸻ TROPE: Big Eater, The Trickster,, The Sleight of Hand, Desperately Craves Affection, Hurricane of Puns, Hidden Depths, Adult Child, Brilliant But Lazy, Daddy AND Mommy Issues

⸻ INSPIRATION: This guy & this guy.

⸻ GOALS: To become an electrician and pull off the greatest long con in the world

⸻ FEARS: His mother & Imprisonment.

⸻ OCCUPATION: He tells others he works as a State Farm Insurance Agent, though he has no real experience in the field, and he hops around offices more often than he stays. He also works machine maintenance at the Ectoplasm Arcade, and other odd jobs around the town

⸻ RESIDENCE: The motel, but Ren sneaks him into the apartment shared with Gabs.

⸻ HOBBIES: Tennis, card tricks, chess, beatboxing, dinosaur enthusiast, video games, electronics– he used to be a part of the robotics club in High School & DnD.

⸻ HABITS: chewing with his mouth open, falling asleep during any kind of lecture, pretending not to speak english to get out of speaking to people he doesn’t want to talk to, saying yo un-ironically, and calling dibs or not it for the smallest of things– also speaking for his sister Mary.

iv: a biography

he was always labeled as the boy triplet– something of a term he’d later in life try to rip away from his identity. there were so many things Todd Wilson wanted to become, and being confined to the boxes of one gender would never stop him. coming into the world giggling, he’d always feel as if he’d have an inside joke. sharing that joke with two other sisters, was perhaps the biggest prank Gilbert Gladstone could ever play on the single mother, Beatrix Wilson. growing up he had two built-in best friends, a Mary and an Annabelle, both of whom he'd try his hardest to protect as the older triplet brother. his mother ingrained it in his head from the moment he could walk– his sisters were his responsibility, and he’d always face her wrath if they were ever not accounted for.

growing up with a single mom was hard, especially for a boy who wanted validation he couldn’t gain from his mother– Todd would bore Miss Wilson with questions of where his father was. in between her own little games of hide and seek the diamond ring and tag your it– it’s your turn to take the special baton, she’d dodge those questions. Todd didn’t know it at the time, but he was always an accomplice to her deceitful ways. thievery and running became a way of life, and Todd grew used to his mother’s ways, seeing it as nothing but normalcy.

he’d always wonder what his life could become if he had two parents to teach him the ways of disguise, misdirection and hacking.

thus spawned the manhunt of the decade. it took years, and many decoys placed by their mother, but they were finally able to trace down a man who would finally make sense– in between all the random Brocks, and Joshs, and even Peters, the man in Salem with the tracker on his bracelet was the one with the biggest lead of all. Todd knew this last one would eventually break his sisters’ spirits, especially if Gilbert Gladstone wasn’t their father. but luck, as it so happened, was finally on their side. it was particularly hard to find the man, it was even harder was it stifling the questions Todd had for him–

Todd promises to keep his distance, okay with only taking as much time as he can with the strange man, but he does idolize what little he knows of him. their bond is still growing and

Todd’s learning of his place in the world, but the secrets of his mother’s past threaten this stability.

v: connection ideas

General Ideas:

D&D Buddies - him, Ren and Bryan are known to pull Gabs into their circle of dorkiness. The more the merrier.

( STILL WORKING ON THIS BUT V OPEN TO ALL CONNECTIONS WHEEZE )

Where you can find him:

Bubble Pop Wash & Dry

The Coffin Club

Ectoplasm Arcade

Flying Saucer Pizza

Cryptid Cinema

Giant Food Store

Kum n Go Gas Station

Starfox Roadside Diner

Strikepin

Vulcan Video

Winter Island Drive-In

Current connections

Gilbert Gladstone - father

Jessica Claus - that weird white lady that wants to be his mom

Renato Luna - that boy cute

Gabriella Ricci - sometimes he wears her lipstick just to plant kisses on ren’s face 🤷🏻‍♀️

Dollie Alimjan - she’s a gay pal hell ya

Ellie Mercer- D & D and fellow nerd friend B)

Marlowe St Clair - Friends who dont realize they are siblings tEEHEE.

vi: tags

;; TODD WILSON.

;; TODD WILSON: MUSINGS.

;; TODD WILSON: CONNECTIONS.

;; TODD WILSON: STARTERS.

;; TODD WILSON: THREADS.

;; TODD & ⸻

#salemintro #;; TODD WILSON.#;; TODD WILSON: MUSINGS.#;; TODD WILSON: CONNECTIONS.#;; TODD WILSON: STARTERS.#;; TODD WILSON: THREADS.#//plot w me w him or nah ! he'll have an open soon 💕

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miracvlovs · 4 years

Text

✗✗✗ you see [ kaleb yıldırım ] around lately? yeah i heard that the [ cis male ] is up to no good. [ he / him ] has been here for [ five years ] now but they’re still pretty [ abrasive ] which is fine because they’re also [ debonair ] so it balances out. the [ twenty-eight ] year old [ hitman for hire ] actually looks like a lot like [ alperen duymaz ], don’t you think? it’s best to watch out, though, because it’s been said that they’re really into [ strong cigarettes & even stronger whiskey ].

hey, hello, hi, bonjour! s’up buttercups? ‘tis i, your friendly neighbourhood loser chrissie ( a.k.a an irish doofus who is utter plot trash and the actual WORST at keeping track with discord messages, oops ) and i’m super duper excited to be here among you fab human beings! anywho, this is my first kiddo kaleb and he is … how do you say … morally grey. basically his morals are very questionable in every aspect. but! on the plus side, he’s very talented and good at his job even if he is ruthless and callous, oop. he is … the worst and also lowkey messed up inside tbh so pls excuse his blunt and sarcastic nature. plot-wise i’m open to literally anything and everything so come at me with any ideas ya got! i’m always diggity down to spit ball ideas and form some dope connections so pls feel free to invade my ims or hmu on le cord ( chrissie.#9606 ) and we can brainstorm until our heart’s content! if ya wanna, go ahead and light that lil grey heart up red and i’ll shimmy my butt your way for all of the good stuff. anywho, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we?

fundamentals.

KALEB EMER YILDIRIM — twenty-eight, hitman for hire, + one snarky son of a gun / troubled dude with daddy issues / all issues tbh !

aesthetics ➤ dried blood caked into the grooves of cut knuckles, the lingering scent of smoke and gasoline, silver slivers of past scarring, five o’clock shadow peppering a blunt jawline, discolourations of blue and purple decorating battered hands, a subtle smirk etched upon a devious countenance, calloused fingertips riddled with small paper cuts, dark circles under almost-black eyes, the noise of screeching tires in the middle of the night, a tall stature adorned in all-black attire, ghosts of bruises staining calloused skin green, a scuffed zippo lighter in a pack of marlboros containing only one cigarette, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a sly grin under stormy dark eyes, a sniper on the roof of a deserted building, the roar of a car engine, & clenched, white-knuckled fists.

nicknames. kal.

date of birth. november third.

gender. cis male.

pronouns. he + him.

birthplace. manhattan, nyc.

orientation. bisexual + aromantic.

education. bachelor of music degree obtained from manhattan school of music.

spoken languages. can speak fluent english, turkish, spanish, & french.

negative traits. haughty, abrasive, enigmatic, cynical, temperamental, calculating, hedonistic, distant, sarcastic, & volatile.

positive traits. adept, diligent, charming, resilient, candid, adept, charming, audacious, determined, & resourceful.

strengths. efficient, energetic, self-confident, strong-willed, strategic thinker, charismatic, & inspiring.

weaknesses. stubborn, dominant, intolerant, impatient, arrogant, poor handling of emotions, cold, & ruthless.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, lock-picking, carjacking, hand-to-hand combat, automobile knowledge, tracking people down, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

physiology. dark brown eyes. dark brown hair. six feet, one inch tall. of a lean, broad stature with a straight posture and evident height. has a few silvery scars littered across his skin. has a few tattoos in a few less visible places. is ambidextrous.

psychology. scorpio zodiac. water element. slytherin house. entj-a. chaotic neutral. type eight enneagram. choleric temperament. interpersonal intelligence type. addicted to alcohol, tobacco, prescription drugs, cocaine, and cannabis. suffers from addiction and insomnia. his vices are lust, wrath and pride. his virtues are ... honestly, probably just diligence tbh.

background.

possible triggers : infidelity, divorce, alcoholism, drug abuse, cancer, death, car crash, funeral, blood, murder, suicide mention, gun mention, & various references to death and murder.

a synopsis. ah, here he is—my tol, troubled, grouchy son : ' ) don't u just adore ur resident trashy, snarky, but precious and sad fuckboi muse? bc i know I DO! anyways, before i digress, i'll cut to the chase. so, waaay before he blessed the universe with his presence, his mother ( who was originally from turkey ) moved to the states where she met one alexander hale. you can probably guess the rest: the pair married, they had children, everything seemed to be going swimmingly, yada yada. here’s a lil background: the hale family—a line of manhattan-born businessmen / lawyers / diplomats etc. they're dripping in wealth, not always as squeaky clean as they portray themselves as to be. kaleb’s dad was a douche, expected both of his sons to follow in his shadow and become lawyers, ran around behind his wife's back: the whole shoot and shebang of a classic a-hole. he always kind of ignored kaleb in favour of his eldest son joshua so kaleb kinda became hard-hearted and resentful due to the lack of his father's attention. skip a few years and he spied his dad cheating on his mother with his secretary though he refused to tell another soul for fear of any potential backlash. soon enough, his mother found this out for herself, their argument ruined his thirteenth birthday party then they divorced soon after. his mother fell off the wagon, became terminally ill—all while his father was remarrying and expecting a daughter with his secretary. it was a hella rough two years for kaleb. it got even worse. eventually, his mother passed away and his step-mother divorced his father to breeze off into the sunset with her new lover; leaving her daughter with her piss-poor excuse of a dad. at this point, kaleb was lonely and angry but adopted the role of his step-sister's protector, shielding her from their father's increasing substance abuse induced violence. just before his seventeenth birthday, his father died in a car crash. of course, he didn't entirely mourn the loss. almost immediately, he and his younger sister moved in with their elder brother who helped kaleb get into university. with dear ole dad out of the picture, he could finally pursue his interest and flair for music. after he graduated, he moved to santa ysabel with his brother and brother's family. in the beginning, things were going fine. yeah, sure, he was struggling for work and felt bad that his brother had to keep him afloat. normal stuff. then, one day, things quickly turned sour in his world. [ TRIGGER FOR GORE, BLOOD, SUICIDE MENTION, GUN MENTION, MURDER, DEATH ] he’d came home to find the locks on the doors busted, advancing into the house carefully only to find his brother’s lifeless corpse crumbled on the kitchen tiles: his throat and wrists slashed, posed as a suicide. of course, kaleb knew better. he knew his brother; knew he would never leave him or his family. upon further inspection of the house, he’d discovered the body of his wife upstairs: a bullet hole between her eyes. [ TRIGGER OVER ] the whole ordeal was enough to turn his stomach but once the sickness had subsided, all kaleb felt was a strong thirst for blood. sure, it was pretty damn stupid to try and seek revenge or whatnot ... but kaleb had always been one to let his heart guide his brain. anyways, time skip now to the moment he’d uncovered his brother’s entanglement with some dodgy loan shark, drug dealing criminals who were responsible for his murder. in the end, he’d hunted them down and eradicated them one by one, over a span of weeks. at first, he hated himself and what his desire for vengeance had turned him into but he kept going until he’d got them all: until he’d grown numb. truthfully, how he wound up taking lives for a living is beyond him. he woke up one day, found himself hired by some big-wig businessman who wanted rid of his business partner and et voilà, he was tangled up in the dark side of existence. i mean, was he blackmailed into doing his first paid hit? yes. but who can blame him? especially when they claimed to have intel regarding the sudden demise of a prominent figure in the criminal underbelly of the city, a.k.a his brother’s killer. it was a risk kaleb simply couldn’t take. he prefers to keep himself anonymous, hidden behind shadows, unsuspecting. death has become a job. nothing more. nothing less. it’s simply the algorithm of his existence: receive a dossier, take care of the target, get paid a hefty lump sum. and all just for enacting a stranger’s revenge in the blood of another. he moves like a deadly phantom, his footsteps light as a feather, whipping through the night like a bullet through a target’s skull. sartre claims that hell is other people. and if you were to stare into kaleb’s eyes—eyes eerily similar to having been cut from coal—you might just see hell and everyone in it staring right back at you. as nietzsche wrote: “ he who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. and if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. ”

random extras.

he has a lot of small scars over his body, most of which he can’t account for or has forgotten about.

owns and drives a black 1969 boss 429 mustang which he loves arguably more than he loves himself.

speaking of, he actually is full of self-hatred so don’t let the haughtiness fool you.

trusts nobody but himself and is loyal to nobody but himself.

has a lot of anger issues so often ends up taking part in underground fights.

he rates around a solid three on the kinsey scale.

is a distant person; closed-off emotionally and prefers to keep himself to himself.

when it comes to whether or not he is morally decent or an extremely bad person, he is somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.

he isn’t heartless but he isn’t exactly compassionate either.

kind of shady but knows how to pass himself as charming.

has been thru sum shit n seen sum shit so he’s v messed up inside.

though he does have a soft spot for animals and children.

his marksmanship is impeccable.

he’s naturally gifted with firearms and his shot is always on point.

dark eyes and bruised knuckles are his ultimate aesthetic tbh.

actually really appreciates classical music, though he’ll never tell. blame it on his piano lessons from childhood.

speaking of piano, he’s low key gifted at playing although he rarely does these days.

has a very short fuse and can lose his temper quite easily.

he has a good heart and good intentions when it comes to those he actually cares about although he’ll never let this show.

favourite coping mechanism? isolation.

a bit of a lone wolf. he keeps people at arm’s length but acts in a way where people are under the illusion he’s their friend.

basically the tall, dark and handsome trope: ( most of the tall, dark and handsome men display aloof, cold and distant personality but they do have a gentle and caring side. )

is a little snarky and grumpy but if you manage to break this exterior, you’ll find he’s quite witty and easy going.

he got into fighting at a young age. it was the only way to try and learn how to defend himself against his father.

sleep?? he doesn’t know her.

tends to repress his emotions until he explodes.

healthy coping mechanisms?? he doesn’t know them either.

is prone to pushing the self destruct button.

you can find a pinterest board for him by clicking anywhere here.

#hey hi hello happy to be here !!!#this is my son kal n he's ... A LOT.#show this some luv n i'll come atcha for plots !!!#indulgence.intro

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excvlsior · 4 years

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about: *rosa samuels.

basics.

full name: rosalind florence samuels meaning of name: rosalind = ‘pretty rose’, florence = ‘blossoming in faith’ nickname: rosa, rosie by a rare few age: 21 date of birth: august 6, 1999 hometown: rochester, new york nationality: american ethnicity: honestly idk where the samuels r originally from bt they’re definitely whitey’s from europe gender: cis-female sexuality: bisexual spoken languages: english, fairly fluent in french and spanish as well profession: just a student tbh

appearance.

height: 5′9″ eye colour: blue hair colour: strawberry blonde voice: fairly deep and raspy i’d say........ soft spoken but loud at the same time idk hw she does it jst truly projects when she speaks its impressive tattoos: blue heart inside her ring finger, matching with lana and freya piercings: two piercings per lobe, right cartilage clothing style: big shirt big pant combo to the max. lots of baggy sweaters, usually bright, her fav is her rainbow turtleneck, likes baggy pants a lot too mostly corduroys, has a lot of overalls, doesn’t really like dresses or skirts in the slightest

health.

physical ailments: endometriosis neurological conditions: anxiety, ptsd allergies: dust sleeping habits: used to have a pretty regular sleep schedule Before everything that happened w tatiana now she’s a bit more as the kids say, self destructive but tries to get like at least a good 6 hours if she can exercise habits: she doesn’t rly at all unless it’s like when she attempts to roller blade or occasionally rides her bike but i dnt think she’s ever gone out of her way to exercise sociability: pretty fkin introverted n doesn’t rly like/wanna be around most people.......... she’s that friend where after a sleepover the next morning when the ppl hosting r like ok i planned a nice day fr us :D she’ll already b packing her bag like. i cannot. i will see u in a week. drink / smoke / drugs: yes / no / super rarely

personality.

positive traits: ambitious, daring, eloquent, genuine, humble, independent, meticulous, passionate, resourceful, tough, witty negative traits: abrasive, blunt, coarse, erratic, hostile, judgmental, overemotional, paranoid, ruthless goals/desires: she wants to be a prof really badly, really wants to know what happened to tatiana (rip sis), plans on traveling the world once she’s graduated hopefully with her best friends, she’d like to be more open and responsive to ppl one day bt . baby steps. fears: being vulnerable with people who don’t deserve it, the Male Gaze, men in general frankly >_>, living an unsatisfying life hobbies: rollerblading, painting, knitting, baking, singing<3 get it open mic night hosting queen, in the uni’s planet earth club, student government, thts all i can think of rn bye habits: lots of eye rolling (rude ass), purposely starts to stand with proper posture when she’s trying to ‘talk down’ to someone, plays with the tips of her fingers a lot, chews the skin of her bottom lip, also chews on pencils a lot when she’s deep in thought, openly flinches and/or glares when someone touches her that she doesn’t know well/likes

favourites.

weather: when it’s snowy but without wind chill so the air’s crisp and pretty from falling snow but not overly freezing colour: pink and purple music: a lot of alternative/indie stuff, hozier, florence + the machine, the 1975, also into boy bands/girl groups, spice girls, backstreet boys, one direction, a sucker for them all. movies: dramatic romances tbh, the twilight series being a big fav bc she’s a woman of taste food: stir fry<3, trying to become a vegetarian even tho she’s not even close to being one so she eats a lot of stir fry n will b like i love my vegetarian diet<3 then eat a cheeseburger 2 hours later drink: hot chocolate, red wine

relationships.

father: john samuels, he’s a pastor (blegh) but rosa’s a total daddy’s girl (hate that term jst gave myself the ick) n she knows it, grew up super close to her dad n their relationship is only jst starting to become a bit strained now tht she’s being a bit more adventurous and taking advantage of her freedom but they’re still pretty cool mother: i dnt think . james n i ever discussed wht their moms name is bt either way her n rosa r nowhere near as close as she is w her dad.......... her moms jst a bit disappointed shes not the Elegant Lady she expected of rosa n is a bit put off by her tomboyish ways bt their relationships more We Ignore Each Other than actual confrontations siblings: viktor<3 hey king, tatiana (rip queen) pets: i dnt think they hv any........... significant other: n/a family’s financial status: like pretty . middle class i think

extra.

zodiac sign: leo mbti: istp - the virtuoso enneagram: the investigator temperament: choleric hogwarts house: ravenclaw moral alignment: chaotic good primary vice: pride primary virtue: dilligence element: earth

#muse | rosa samuels.#lov u queen<3

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lacomtesse · 4 years

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&&. rumor has it ( emilia vasquez ) has stepped into rosewood. ( she ) is a ( 30 ) year old ( sub ) currently residing at the manor as ( live in sub / sugar baby ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( diane guerrero ) and is into ( pet play & tpe ) but not ( feet & scat ). ( she ) has been said to be ( passionate & altruistic ) but also quite ( bossy & self-destructive ). let’s hope the manor doesn’t devour them whole.

FULL NAME: Emilia Vasquez AGE: 30 SOCIAL CLASS: Mid-lower class DEGREE: High School Graduate THEISM: Catholic GENDER IDENTITY: Cis Female SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic

MARK: Submissive SUBTYPE: Pet / Brat SEXUAL LIBIDO: High FAVORITE KINK(s): Pet play, worship, impact play, marking, orgasm control LIMITS: Isolation, feet, scat SAFEWORD: Bubblegum BODY PREFERENCE: Hands, shoulders

HAIR COLOR: Dark Brown EYE COLOR: Brown HEIGHT: 5'2’’ TATTOOS: None PIERCINGS: None SCARS: None GLASSES: Yes

JUNG TYPE: ISTJ (The Advocate) ENNEATYPE: 2w3 SP/SX INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Interpersonal MORALITY ALIGNMENT: Neutral-Good TEMPERAMENT: Choleric ELEMENT: Fire ARCHETYPE: The Caregiver MOTIVATION: Finding her own happiness through helping others FEARS: Being alone VICE: Envy VIRTUE: Patience THEME SONG: “Sunday Kind of Love” by Etta Jones

ABOUT

Emilia, or Emmy to her friends, was born to simple parents in Medellín, Colombia. The family didn’t have enough to spoil her with, but as a single child, she was recipient of all the love and attention her parents had to give.

As a child, she dreamed as big as anyone she knew, hoping of someday being a huge star in Hollywood, make a name for herself, and use the success and the money that came with it to help her family and friends.

It was with that in mind that Emmy boarded a plane to Los Angeles at just nineteen years old, fresh out of high school. Her goal was to find a job as quickly as she could with the help of an agent and stay in the USA for good. She never made it there.

Emmy had been tricked by the so-called agent, who instead took her by force to the Rosewood manor to work as a submissive. With little experience and a strong personality, it didn’t take long for her to be thrown in a cell to be broken by one of the estate’s Dominants.

And there she stayed for many years, resisting as much as she could and biting back when it was appropriate. Unfortunately, there's only so much abuse someone can take, and slowly she was conditioned to be the better behaved submissive she is today.

Her luck finally began to change when an important Dominant at the estate took a liking on her, and took her as his own. She was free from the cages, and free to leave. Only she didn’t.

In her time as a disobedient sub, Emmy had grown attached to the other submissves in Rosewood, and now as a free woman, she felt responsible for them. She decided to stay and help them where she could, whether it was through emotional or financial support.

Of course, Emmy doesn’t have anything to her name. She survives and manages to stay at Rosewood with the help of Sugar Daddies willing to help her in exchange for her company and sexual favors.

Emilia still retains some of the fire she had before arriving in Rosewood, and is slowly working through some of the trauma she endured. What doesn’t help her is her intense need of helping others, and putting herself in harm’s way. There is nothing the submissive is drawn towards more than those who hurt her.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

SUGAR DADDY(IES) The can be either the first Dominant who saved her, or a more recent one. She loves her sugar daddies and is very willing to make them happy in exchange for presents. Sugar Mommies may also apply. SUB BREAKERS Anyone who might’ve worked with and broken her while she was still a disobedient sub. Emmy sometimes still longs for abuse she went through and might seek out her old friends. DISOBEDIENT SUBS Emmy really cares for each and everyone of them and she wants to do what she can to help them. Pls let her.

#rhqintro #( .emilia ; intro )#( .emilia ; all )

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lightlorn · 4 years

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majizuka // @katamekyoken

Name: Majima Hisano (真島ひさ乃)

Gender: Has no power over her, though she is femme as fuck.

General Appearance: An altogether pretty girl, though the exacts have shifted over the years. Overall, she’s noted to have her father’s eyes and mouth, with her mother’s less prominent nose and subdued expressions. As a child, she greatly resembled Shizuka save for aforementioned traits from her father, being a round-faced kid who was considered nothing short of an angel. That mirroring of her mother didn’t last, however, as puberty had different ideas. As she grew up, her baby fat began to disappear, leaving a more defined facial structure that called to mind her father as a young man. The overall effect is striking, though more androgynous than she prefers. The one consistency in her appearance is her long, well maintained black hair, which she takes great pride in.

Personality: Really, she’s got the best of both parents. A loyal person at heart, she is devoted to helping and protecting her community, putting her smarts to use solving whatever problems she uncovers. An outgoing and self-driven girl, she has a long-held reputation for standing up tor her peers and dispensing swift justice on anyone who would take advantage of them. She’s got big ambitions and a dozen different creative ideas of how to achieve them. That said, she’s also got the worst of her parents in a double dose -- Dramatic, controlling, willing to meet confrontation with violence, and a firm believer in an eye for an eye. Her vices are just as deep as her virtues, which can make her a volatile figure to those she doesn’t count as a friend or ally.

Special Talents: A very skilled musician who has, without knowing it, followed in her father’s footsteps. While her primary focus and passions are based around the piano, she also shows remarkable vocal talent. Aside from this refined skillset, she is still her father’s daughter, and grew up surrounded by the kind of extended family who wanted her to be safe -- in a world where safety is defined by one’s ability to fight. Her father, both of her ‘uncles,’ and her honorary ‘aunt’ all made sure that she’s suitably brutal in a fight in the event she have to confront a threat with violence.

Who they like better: This is a daddy’s girl. This has just been a fact of life practically since she was born, and carries well into adulthood. She loves him more than anyone or anything else on earth, a fact that extends to a deep sense of filial piety that seems otherwise at odds with her character.

Who they take after more: The uninitiated will point at her more cerebral, level-headed apart from the temper demeanor and call her Shizuka’s daughter through and through. These people do not realize there’s more to her father than reputation, and, as the adage goes... Like father, like daughter.

Personal Head canon: She doesn’t just have two parents ; The entire Polyakuza squad, in some form or fashion, act as guardians to her as well, even if she only identifies them as uncles or aunts. By this same card, she’s the only force on this earth that can stop Homare and Taiga from fighting.

Face Claim: i have none please take this quick thing i did in an app

#iftheyhadakidmeme;#katamekyoken #jazz hands about The Girl.

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beiingalive · 4 years

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* ⌞ʾ⁎ ⊰ adria arjona, cis female, she/her ⊱ i think i just saw ANITA MORENO walk across trafalgar square, singing to YO PERREO SOLA ( BAD BUNNY ). you know, the TWENTY-FIVE year old SEAMSTRESS? people claim that they are just like ANITA from WEST SIDE STORY. it must be because they are LOYAL and OUTSPOKEN as well… though i could be wrong. all i know for sure is that they live at PETERSBURG apartment.⌝

❝ how can i hear what goes on twelve feet above my head ? ❞

name: ana josefina del carmen moreno rivera. nicknames: anita, nita. age: 25. date of birth: may 6th, 1995. hometown: san juan, puerto rico. current location: london, england. apartment: petersburg. occupation: seamstress.

pinterest: xx. playlist: xx.

→ 𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪.

[ tw: sexual assault ]

✂ anita was born in san juan, puerto rico, to arturo moreno and dolores rivera. they lived in santurce, near the theatre district — this was convenient, as dolores was a seamstress who was often tasked with making the costumes for local productions, and arturo was a carpenter who dreamed of being a painter — the perfect combination to work in scenic design. they had a nice little home that had just enough space for their growing family ; after anita, they had three more kids — guillermo, esteban, and luis.

✂ being the oldest, anita always knew it was her job to help out around the house. she often took care of her brothers, making sure they were well fed, clean, and out of danger. she would walk them home from school, make them hold hands and look both sides before crossing the street. she would help them with their homework before doing her own. she practically raised those boys — and still checks up on them like they’re her kids.

✂ when anita was eleven, a workplace injury put her father out of a job. the morenos never had a lot of money, but now they struggled even more to make ends meet. dolores became the primary breadwinner, and her income just wasn’t enough. just a year later, they were forced to relocate to new york city, which promised more jobs and better salaries. a friend of dolores’ got her a job at a costume shop ; arturo worked as a handyman.

✂ at first, anita was optimistic about her new life in the big apple. she was bored with life in her little island ; she wanted so much more than what puerto rico could offer. anita wanted to travel, to see the world. she wanted to study art and fashion, to become a fashion designer herself. like other puerto ricans, she saw america as the land of opportunity. she quickly realized just how wrong she was.

✂ things weren’t as easy as she thought they would be. she quickly became disenchanted with the american dream and grew up angry and resentful as she watched her parents work their asses off for a salary that was a small fraction of what their white coworkers got. she got sick of getting taunted for having an accent, for being too loud, or having a name that wasn’t easy to pronounce ( “ ah - nee - tah ” , not “ uh - nee - duh ” ). she realized that in order to fit in, she would have to lose her accent and change her name. she would have to change who she was.

✂ but anita has never been the kind of person who would make herself small to make other comfortable. at her young age, she decided she wouldn’t go out of her way to fit in. she would not change who she was just to appease those around her. anita made the choice to be unapologetically herself, and she hasn’t looked back since.

✂ she met the sharks in her early teens, and she’s forever grateful for them. she finally had a group of people that made her feel like she belonged. most of the time, she was an outsider. she was the “ other ”. with the sharks, she felt like she was one of them ( even technically she wasn’t ). she didn’t care that they were a gang, she had no qualms about that. it would be naive to think they weren’t a target. they had to protect themselves by any means necessary. it also didn’t hurt that their leader, bernardo, was so easy on the eyes. anita fell in love with bernardo, despite all the warning signs.

✂ once she was old enough, she went to work. her family’s financial situation was better in new york, but she still wanted to help her parents any way she could. she was a maid, a waitress, a babysitter, an usher. she handed out flyers at the park. she answered phones at a call center. during the weekends, she helped her mom at the costume shop — anita was already making clothes for herself, so she might as well put those skills to good use. she did anything to lessen her parents’ burden.

✂ tw sexual assault: her connection to the sharks made her feel safe, but at 16 it became clear to her that she needed to protect herself as well. she was walking home late one night after the restaurant where she was working had closed, when three boys surrounded her and cornered her in an alley. she knew what they had in mind, but she just froze. her body couldn’t react to what was happening until the very last minute, when it was almost too late. she made enough of a racket to scare them off. she ran back home. she vowed never to depend on anyone else to save her.

✂ once she graduated high school and started working full time at the shop, practically running it. she would have liked to study fashion, but she knew it wasn’t a possibility — college was expensive and not for people like her. she had some money saved up, sure, but the applications alone would have created a pretty big dent in her savings. she didn’t even bother asking her parents — college was out of the question. she focused all of her energy into the shop.

✂ about a year ago, she heard through one of the shop’s clients about a shop that was hiring in london — anita grabbed maría and jumped at the opportunity. the fact that the boys had moved relocated to london a few years before was a decent incentive, but not a reason. anita had outgrown new york. plus, she’d always wanted to travel. so anita took her savings and hopped across the pond.

→ 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪.

zodiac sign: taurus. personality type: estp — the entrepreneur. enneagram: type 1 — the reformer. temperament: choleric. moral alignment: chaotic neutral. primary vice: envy. primary virtue: diligence. element: earth.

✂ anita is feisty. she’s passionate and intense. she’s loud, she’s bold, she has strong opinions and is not afraid to share them. she might seem like she’s all over the place, but her feet are firmly planted on the ground. she knows who she is, and won’t let anybody tell her otherwise. she knows what she wants, and she won’t let anyone get in her way.

✂ i mentioned she has strong opinions, right ? well, to her, they’re the only valid opinions. she's not afraid to tell someone when they’re wrong ( or when she thinks they’re wrong, which to her, is the same thing ). go forbid anyone ever tell her she’s wrong — heaven help that poor soul. once she’s made up her mind up her mind about something, no one can tell her otherwise. she’s stubborn as a mule.

✂ she’s everyone’s mom friend. she’s the tough love mom friend. she’ll nag her friends and force them to eat their vegetables, drink water, and moisturize. this isn’t just because she cares ( although she does, deeply ) , she also just loves telling people what to do.

✂ she’s a hard worker ; it’s not rare to find her still working at the shop way past closing time — but she knows how to let loose. anita loves to go out dancing and will constantly beg her friends ( especially maría ) to go out with her. she’s convinced there’s nothing that can’t be fixed by a night out on the dance floor.

✂ she’s a highly skilled seamstress. she can recreate any article of clothing by just looking at it ; no pattern necessary. most of her clothes are handmade, and she loves making garments for her friends. you see a dress you like at some shop? can’t afford it? anita will make it for you.

✂ she’s always on / off with bernardo. she loves him, and she’s sure that will never change. still, they’re both passionate, volatile people. they clash constantly, breaking up and getting back together. she adores him, but she also wants to hit him with a chair sometimes.

✂ her apartment is full of plants. all kinds. she’s a certified green thumb and will yell at anyone who thinks succulents are easy to take care of.

✂ she has a small shoplifting problem. it’s nothing major. no need to worry.

✂ she has a cat named gasolina by daddy yankee. gaz for short.

✂ she’s a huge bad bunny stan. this may not seem relevant, but it’s important for me to tell you.

→ 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤.

✂ FRIENDS: i always have to start out with this one. anita’s a tough cookie to crack, but once she’s your friend, she’s loyal. she’s a ride or die kinda lady. your muse will not regret taking the time to get to know anita and earn her trust. they will have a friend for life.

✂ FRIENDS FROM NEW YORK: like i said, friend for life. your muse could have met anita when they were in high school, but this girl is not the kind of person to just let a friendship die because it’s been a long time.

✂ FIRST FRIENDS IN LONDON: she had the sharks, of course. but moving halfway around the world is scary and anita would’ve accepted any help she could get. these are the friends that helped her settle in and get used to all the cultural differences.

✂ PARTY PALS: anita loves to go out, so clearly she needs a little squad she hits up whenever she wants to hit the dance floor.

✂ FRENEMIES: anita’s a good friend, but she’s not everyone’s cup of tea. your muse might not like her. anita might not like them. anita might talk shit behind their back. anita might tell them to their face they that they suck, and might list the reasons why. anything’s possible.

✂ NEIGHBORS: could be friendly, could be not so friendly ! she plays a lot of loud music and doesn’t really have an inside voice. anita lives in the petersburg building, so if your muse lives there and you wanna say they live right next door, hit me up !

✂ COWORKERS: self-explanatory ! anita works at a shop that makes costumes for some west end shows, but they also take on a variety of clients ! they make clothes, they repair clothes, anything goes.

✂ CLIENTS: anita works at the shop, but will also take jobs on the side — she’ll take commissions, she’ll upcycle that oversized shirt you thrifted, of maybe just mend a torn-up skirt. anita is here for any of your seamstress / aspiring designer needs.

✂ FLINGS / FWB / HOOKUPS: like i said...on / off with bernardo. she’s not the kind of girl who’ll just wait around for him, so she will absolutely go out with other people ( and do other stuff with other people, winkwonk ) while she’s single.

✂ EXES: give me someone anita dated other than bernardo, please, i am begging you. give me someone she almost fell for before falling back into her old habits. i am on my knEES.

#musicalhqs:intro #→ intro !#( anita m. ) / * interactions .#( anita m. ) / * texts .#( anita m. ) / * muse .#( anita m. ) / * aesthetic .#( anita m. ) / * visage .#( anita m. ) / * playlist .#( anita m. ) / * memes .#( anita m. ) / * answered .

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crvelsovls · 4 years

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—

delphine laurent has been seen walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the twenty-nine year old demon as she is against restoring the town’s glamour spell. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the dancer can be poised yet still be destructive. let’s just hope something can be settled before the town is turned upside town. + rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, black satin dresses draped over a svelte frame and blood-red roses in a vase on the window sill.

why, hellooo there !! i’m chrissie and i’m super duper excited to be here !! this here is the first of my gals ; delphine aka my sassy lil demon child fkhfjh she’s kinda a newish muse so pls bear with me while i navigate this chaotic hellcat lmao anywaysss i’m utter plot trash so feel free to slap a lil heart on this and i’ll come pester you for plots n all that good stuff !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. delphine athena laurent.

nicknames. del, & della.

physical age. twenty-nine.

actual age. three hundred and fifty seven.

birthday. unknown.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. demon.

nationality. unknown.

religion. agnostic.

birthplace. unknown.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. pansexual.

romantic orientation. aromantic.

education. psychology degree.

occupation. dancer at purgatory.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. unknown.

birth father. abraxas.

full blood siblings. unknown.

significant other. n/a.

children. n/a.

pets. n/a.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, spanish, french, italian, german, & russian.

negative traits. brusque, obstinate, destructive, deceptive, & promiscuous.

positive traits. elegant, headstrong, observant, independent, & confident.

strengths. etiquette, resourcefulness, knowledgeable, quick-thinker, original, brainstorming, charismatic, & energetic.

weaknesses. argumentative, insensitive, intolerant, finds it difficult to focus, & dislikes practical matters.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, skilled with firearms, hand-to-hand combat, memory recall, physical stamina, able to use initiative, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

talents. violin, dancing, & photographic memory.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. green.

hair colour. dark brown.

height. five feet, five inches.

weight. 61 kg.

build. she is considered average height for a female and is both slender and toned.

scars. a rather noticeable one across her clavicle and a few others in less visible places.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. n/a.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. unknown.

element. fire.

house. slytherin.

myers briggs type. entp-a.

alignment. chaotic neutral.

enneagram. type eight.

temperament. choleric

intelligence type. intra-personal.

character label. the vixen.

diseases. n/a.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, & acute stress disorder.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. tobacco, cocaine, & alcohol.

vices. lust, greed, & wrath.

virtues. temperance, diligence, & humility.

allergies. n/a.

diet. carnivore.

dominant hand. ambidextrous.

accent. american.

blood type. o negative.

felonies. petty theft charge when she was fifteen. she also has a history of both kleptomania, & pyromania when she was a teenager.

vehicle. red 1966 shelby 427 cobra.

BACKGROUND.

trigger warning(s). mention of death, mention of imprisonment, & mention of murder.

although the region of her birth remains a mystery to delphine, she knows for certain that her parentage is a complex story. the by-product of a human mother and a demonic father, delphine entered this world destined for a life of chaos and disarray. though she never knew her mother, her father had been thrilled by the sheer idea of having a child he could mould and shape into the pitch-black soul he desired her to be, minus the influence of a mortal. indeed, the demon abraxas had big plans for his little girl, plans she grew to work against despite her father’s best efforts to rein her in.

the instant little delphine began to display her powers, make use of her abilities and disobey daddy dearest, the girl was locked in her room. a room that contained every possible thing that a child could want. for the first few years of her life, delphine was homeschooled by a demon under her father's command. while her father made sure she had wanted for nothing, the older she grew the deeper she desired to explore the world and her capabilities. one fateful night, the girl managed to escape her father's abode; used her enhanced speed and endurance to run far into the dark night. of course, it wasn't long until her father's demonic henchmen were on her tail, dragging her back to her prison. delphine knew her father gave her the best life possible but she also knew that there were ulterior motives behind his kindness.

eventually, delphine proved to defy her father to breaking point resulting in him having her shipped off to an all-girls boarding school. during her schooling years there, her father sparsely visited or, instead, often sent one of his subservient demons to check in with his daughter in his place. then, after a long period of time, the visitations ceased; the last thing delphine heard was that her father had wound up entangled with a couple of hunters.

delphine deemed this both a blessing and a curse. a curse as all she'd known was her father's rule. a blessing as she was finally free to lead her own life; make her own choices and follow her own path. she wasted no time in graduating from the academy before deciding to move to new york city where she found herself enrolled in new york university, undertaking a psychology degree.

still, with no word from her father or his servants, a small element of delphine continued to look over her shoulder in fear that they would creep back into her life. perhaps her father’s involvement with the hunters had ended in disaster. or perhaps he’d simply given up on his daughter fulfilling the prophecy he placed upon her. though the latter seemed unlikely to her, delphine wasn’t entirely sure if she truly cared enough to give any of it a second thought.

after her graduation, she was cornered by a demon who claimed to work for her father. it soon became apparent that her father had vanished, seemingly having fell off the face of the earth altogether, and that this demon had stepped in to fill his shoes. naturally, the demon was trying to recruit delphine into the fold once more but refusing to take no for an answer had deadly consequences for this other demon.

having killed the new ruler of her father’s faction, delphine made her way across various states until she would up in hazelgrove where she laid low for the first year. after a while, she began working in purgatory as a bartender until she decided she wanted to be front and centre stage, ending up becoming a dancer.

while delphine isn’t fond of the idea of serving demons, she isn’t utterly opposed to working alongside them nor using her demonic powers. delphine can be a ruthless, callous creature who most definitely doesn’t exist to serve anybody or bend to the will of anyone.

PERSONALITY.

the semblance of delphine can only be accurately encapsulated by ribbed turtlenecks and skin-tight jeans with red-bottomed heels. the air of her seemingly callous persona epitomised by the ease of narcissism and offhand sardonic quips accompanied by a playful grin. delphine is the perfect balance of an elegant, self-assured woman and an intelligent, artful creature; effortlessly displaying only a rare sum of her persona, the elements of her she wishes others to see while concealing all the other elements of herself she deems less than favourable. one’s initial opinion of delphine might be that she appears cold, the kind of person who wouldn’t blink while grasping any opportunity to cut you down only to build herself up. delphine couldn’t be farther removed from her childhood self. every inch, every last detail of the once bright-eyed young girl has been broken down and reshaped into the icy-glared creature who lives today. life strengthened her, shaped her into a careless adaption of who she once was; a woman who stands her ground and speaks up for herself and what she believes in, never fearing the consequences of her actions.

QUICK FACTS.

owns waaay too many pairs of heels.

her signature look is her blood-red lips.

often wears suits and totally rocks them.

extremely skilled with knives and blades. always carries one on her person at all times.

has never been in love or had her heart broken.

although she wears a lot of red, black is actually her favourite colour. she feels her most powerful in an all-black outfit.

her most prized possession is her brushed chrome zippo. it has her initials engraved on it and where she got it or from who is something she’ll never tell.

always seen with a cigarette in hand. she seriously chain smokes. always says she needs to quit but never does and probably never will either.

is very soft underneath and a lot more sensitive than she lets on but she’d rather die than expose this about herself.

has a history of both kleptomania and pyromania when she was a teenager.

has a felony of petty theft when she was fifteen.

has a psychology degree from nyu but never tells people about this.

drives way too fast but loves the thrill of it.

is aromantic. believes she doesn’t have the capacity to love.

can speak quite a few different languages though she never usually makes use of this.

she can be pretty deadly if you piss her off enough.

thrives on chaos.

a tad theatrical.

is truly an independent woman who don’t need no man.

her drink of choice is vodka tonic.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to anything and everything. seriously, throw any idea at me and if it has angst, i’m a million per cent there !! however, some connections i’d love to see delphine have are :

a confidant / friendship.

a best pal.

an unlikely supernatural creature who turns out to be her friend.

of course, fellow demons.

a potential love interest.

past or present flings / hookups / fwb / one night stands.

frenemies or plain ole enemies.

clashing personalities.

somebody she often spends time with, most likely drinking with.

#mystichq:intro #death /#imprisonment /#murder /#hi hey hello.#this is my first child.#pls come plot w me jfksfh.

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handlingthis-megara-blog · 5 years

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Megara Tilusi Gonzalez Egan – Character Sheet

i'm bad at love / but you can't blame me for tryin' /you know i'd be lyin' sayin' / you were the one / that could finally fix me / lookin' at my history / i'm bad at love / oh, you know, you know, you know, you know / i'm bad at love / i'm bad at love

i know that you're afraid / i’m gonna walk away / each time the feeling fades / each time the feeling fades / i know that you're afraid / i'm gonna walk away / each time the feeling fades

Archetype — The Adventurer Birthday — November 1, 1985 Zodiac Sign — Scorpio sun, Sagittarius rising, Gemini moon MBTI — ENTP Enneagram — 5: the Investigator Temperament — Melancholic Hogwarts House — Ravendor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Neutral Primary Vice — Greed Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Margaret Gonzalez Egan Father — Ahsan Egan (nee Haroun) Mother’s Occupation — Abandoned Meg, so who gives a fuck, right? (She’s a police officer, ex-military, random hc: she works with Copper, bc I always make everyone from Cork.) Father’s Occupation — Writer/stay at home dad. Family Finances — Not great, not terrible. Birth Order — Only child. Brothers — None. Sisters — None. Other Close Family — None, her father doesn’t talk to his family in India and her mother’s family was never in the picture. Best Friend — None. Other Friends — None. Enemies — Ninsun, but she also sorta likes her? It’s fucked up. Her ex--Canis Greenleaf. Pets — None, though Ninsun takes the form of a sandy colored Persian cat. Home Life During Childhood — It started out pretty good, when she was five, they moved to Iraq because of her mom’s work. (She was a technician for the military, high ranking, she wasn’t out in the field.) They moved back to Ireland when Meg was ten. Her mom left abruptly when she was thirteen. She found out later that her parents had been fighting for a while and it wasn’t as abrupt as she thought. Still, her mom didn’t even say goodbye to her or anything, so that sucked. She rebelled as a young teen, smoked, did (minor) drugs, etc, etc. Had a boyfriend at the age 13. Once she got into secondary, she settled down a bit because she was actually being challenged in school and really enjoyed herself. Town or City Name(s) — Cork, Ireland -- Baghdad, Iraq -- Cork, Ireland What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere, always looked like a tornado had blown through. Oscillated between girly and punk. Any Sports or Clubs — Book club, chess club, football Favorite Toy or Game — Crosswords. Also Clue. Schooling — Went to public schools and military schools, got her undergrad at Dublin, masters at Oxford, PhD at Cambridge and then La Sorbonne. Favorite Subject — History Popular or Loner — Loner, but had a loyal group. Important Experiences or Events — Her mother leaving/getting accepted to school/living in Saudi/her experience with her ex Nationality — Irish Culture — an Irish/Indian/Middle Eastern hybrid Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, but doesn’t exactly have a religion, much to her father’s dismay.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Summer Bishil Complexion — Golden/brown Hair Colour — Dark brown Eye Colour — Brown Height — 5’3 Build — short but kind of sporty/curvy Tattoos — probably one or two Piercings — ears, had a septum when she was younger, has a nose piercing. Common Hairstyle — usually down or in a high pony, occasionally a braid. Clothing Style — a little femme punk is probably the best way to describe it. Leather jacket, dark wash jeans, boots. Mannerisms — purses her lips a lot, can talk animatedly with her hands and body when she gets passionate about something, but tends to be rather still otherwise. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — not really? Travel always makes her a little sick though. Physical Ailments — well sometimes her eye sees into the underworld which can give her mad vertigo lol Neurological Conditions — none Allergies — none Grooming Habits — loves a good groom; treats herself to baths n face masks n such all the time Sleeping Habits — not so great these days, underworld nightmares, am I right? Eating Habits — good, she doesn’t eat beef, loves a good salad, a good curry, lots of protein and good for you food. Exercise Habits — tries to exercise regularly in a lowkey way, though she has gotten a little worse in the last few months. Emotional Stability — hot temper but tries to control it behind an air of indifference. Body Temperature — runs a little cold, especially these days Sociability — used to be much more extroverted than she is now. Extroversion is her natural setting. Addictions — knowledge. Drug Use — in secondary Alcohol Use — frequent

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — abrasive, snarky, untrusting Good Habits — loyal af, self care af Best Characteristic — loyalty and being like a dog w a bone when faced with a problem. Worst Characteristic — not letting anyone in Worst Memory — finding Canis cheating Best Memory — going on her first dig! Proud of — her degree Embarrassed by — her feelings lol Driving Style — a lil reckless Strong Points — fierce, loyal, smart, a bad bitch Temperament — easy and quick to anger, always bitter Attitude — needs an adjustment Weakness — her heart and thirst for knowledge Fears — becoming invisible (not successful in her career, with no friends.) Phobias — none Secrets — so many Regrets — Canis. Feels Vulnerable When — she feels emotions for someone Pet Peeves — so many things but mansplaining is the original sin Conflicts — trust v preservation Motivation — being successful af Short Term Goals and Hopes — publish a book Long Term Goals and Hopes — be the best known in her field Sexuality — bisexual Day or Night Person — night Introvert or Extrovert — introverted extrovert Optimist or Pessimist — pessimist af

Likes and Styles:

Movies — Indiana Jones, The Mummy Movies--the classic archaeological films, of course. Also into horror movies and slashers, to the concern of her parents. Though, she also had a soft spot for certain romances: Titanic and Moulin Rouge. Her absolute favorite is Big Fish. Good luck prying that out of her. Books — loves books. Prefers nonfiction but can get into a good fiction. Magazines — none Foods — Indian food. The thing she always missed being away from home was her dad’s cooking. Drinks — Big water drinker. A water with a little lemon is her go to. Also, vodka with a little lemon. She’s not picky. Especially these days. What? She can hold her alcohol. Animals — Owls, or púcaí, which is an Irish creature that was always benevolent to Meg, since she was born on Puca day. Sports — loves a good game of football Social Issues — women’s rights, anything discriminatory she’s fiercely against Favorite Saying — some old middle eastern proverb probably Color — purples and pinks, they’re soft, lovely colors. She doesn’t wear them very often, but they’re definitely her favorites. She has like purple binders and a purple phone case, stuff like that, where you can definitely pick up on her favorite. Though, her favorite shade is probably a magenta kind of color, as that is what the “purple” of the ancient world would look like. She also is a big fan of turquoise and owns a lot of turquoise jewelry, both because she likes it and also because it has protective powers. Clothing — loves her leather jacket, wears lots of boots and darker colors. Jewelry — usually can be seen wearing a decent amount of jewelry. Games — clue is her fave, also likes word games and puzzle games, etc. Music — Dad rock. Loves KISS, Bruce Springsteen, Pearl Jam, The National, Counting Crows. Classics like Queen and the Beatles, etc. She also loves some good girl groups and artists. Definitely a fan of Florence and Beyonce, Elle King, Ginny Wigmore, Aretha Franklin, Christina Aguilera--I could keep going. She’s an avid music-consumer. Definitely that person that hung posters on their wall and was obsessed with certain band members and groups. Greatest Want — to be the very best, like no one ever was Greatest Need — to learn to trust in her heart

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Castle Suites Household furnishings — modern n chic, tho also lots of books Favorite Possession — probably her books Most Cherished Possession — the recipe book her dad gave her when she moved out the first time. Married Before — nope, was secretly engaged though Significant Other Before — a few dates here or there but she was always focused on her studies Children — god no Relationship with Family — she’s a daddy’s girl for sure, but they’ve been distant since the Ifrit. Car — none, she can drive tho Career — archaeologist/professor Dream Career — exactly what she’s doing Dream Life — exactly her life minus the huge betrayal and the Ifrit. Though, the Ifrit has its perks. Love Life — no. Talents or Skills — has access to pretty unlimited knowledge thanks to the Ifrit, but she’s hella smart on her own. Knows several languages, also really sharp reflexes. Intelligence Level — high Finances — stable

#about #inspiration #character sheet #my BABE #man i'm so ready

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something-inthe-wind · 2 years

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Sarah Finkelstein* – character sheet

*with annotations by Sally

now the flesh is melting off your bones / the maggots around your heart make themselves at home / and, where the river flowed i am left alone i just stood there, bathed in the quiet...

Archetype — The Lover Birthday — October 30, 2003 Zodiac Sign — Rising Virgo; Sun in Scorpio; Moon in Capricorn MBTI — INFP Enneagram — Type 5: the Investigator Temperament — Melancholic Hogwarts House — Gryffindor Primary; Hufflepuff Secondary Moral Alignment — Chaotic Neutral Primary Vice — Envy Primary Virtue — Generosity Element — Water

Overview

Mother — Sarah Finkelstein (deceased) Father — Frank Finkelstein Mother’s Occupation — homemaker, quilt maker Father’s Occupation — pathologist, funeral home owner Family Finances — upper middle class Birth Order — only child Brothers — none Sisters — none Other Close Family — none Best Friend — tbd Other Friends — tbd Enemies — no one // that will change… Pets — none, though there is a black cat that hangs out on the back fence sometimes that she’d pretend was hers Home Life During Childhood — lonely. her father works long hours and she often felt restless and sad. turned to books and the internet for much of her joy. sewed a lot as well, or did cross stitch, etc. never was allowed to have friends over and never was allowed going out at night, but she would sneak out. her father doted on her, but is very strict. Town or City Name(s) — swynlake is all she’s ever known What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — very homey, since she spent most of her time there when not at school, it is covered in quilts and pillows and pictures all over the walls. in frames/pulled from magazines and books…very haphazard and messy. // I’ve redecorated where I can, it was so chaotic and disorganized. Any Sports or Clubs — nope, she wasn’t allowed to play sports or join any after school clubs, though during school she was in a few. Favorite Toy or Game — likes crossword puzzles and regular 1000 piece picture puzzles Schooling — swynlake schooling, graduated 2022 Favorite Subject — english/literature Popular or Loner — loner, definitely // that will change… Important Experiences or Events — none really // her life has been so boring. Nationality — english Culture — english Religion and beliefs — non-secular

Physical Appearance

Face Claim — Maude Apatow Complexion — pale, the palest of the pale Hair Colour — brown, but coppery—can look reddish at times Eye Colour — brown, lovely big brown eyes // like a little doe Height — 5’4 Build — willowy Tattoos — none Piercings — none Common Hairstyle — down in loose natural waves; or braided down her back Clothing Style — she makes all her own clothes and they’re…matronly to say the least; high collars, low hems, lots go lace and such // I’d change the wardrobe, but Daddy dearest insists… Mannerisms — always holding herself at the elbows, tries to make herself small // cocks out hip a lot, plays with hair Usual Expression —

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — yes, she used to get colds and seasonal allergies // being dead does have its benefits… Physical Ailments — none // well, I am susceptible to any injury as they don’t heal properly Neurological Conditions — depression // does being haunted count? Allergies — seasonal // none Grooming Habits — kind of bad tbh because depression, she’d go a few days without showering and let her hair get gross and greasy // good good Sleeping Habits — insomniatic or slept for long hours during depression naps // doesn’t sleep Eating Habits — poor, ate very little, low appetite // doesn’t need to eat, and shouldn’t because food doesn’t digest Exercise Habits — poor, wasn’t ever allowed out of the house // does yoga in the morning, it stretches you out and gets you ready for the day! Emotional Stability — fine, prone to outbursts of passion // I am prone to outbursts of passion too…but I am also way more fun Body Temperature — verging on chilly // cold to the touch Sociability — painfully shy // I can’t wait to change that the most… Addictions — none Drug Use — none // what are you offering? Alcohol Use — none, though she did try it a few times when she snuck out // indulges occasionally but shouldn’t

Your Character’s Character

Bad Habits — not standing up for herself, bottling her emotions // what can I say? I am impatient and hate simpering. Good Habits — kind and creative // I’m a good time Best Characteristic — her creativity and resilience // like I said, I am a good time Worst Characteristic — meek // my flaws are what make me interesting Worst Memory — [redacted bc of references to abuse but use your imagination] // I have no memories… Best Memory — won an award for her clothes she made // waking up in this body Proud of — her art Embarrassed by — everything? // what is the point of embarrassment? useless emotion Driving Style — N/A Weakness — being a pushover // being dead Fears — her father // someone finding out I am not who I say I am, I just don’t want to deal with the mess… Phobias — none Secrets — that she wants to escape her father // being dead Regrets — not sticking up for herself more // nothing to regret Feels Vulnerable When — her father, or anyone, criticizes her // I would rather people not look too close… Pet Peeves — injustice // people being nosy Conflicts — wanting her father’s love v wanting to escape Motivation — wanting to leave // wouldn’t you like to know… Short Term Goals and Hopes — well, she had hoped to go to PrideU… // have some fun! Long Term Goals and Hopes — she wasn’t sure yet… // now you’re really being nosy… Day or Night Person — night Introvert or Extrovert — introvert // ugh Optimist or Pessimist — pessimist to a depressing degree // I’m a realist Greatest Want — to be free // to succeed Greatest Need — to be free

#character sheet #about #inspiration

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defineguilty · 6 years

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FULL CHARACTER INFO SHEET

BASIC INFORMATION

♛┋FULL NAME: Neal George Caffrey ♛┋NICKNAME(S): Do aliases count as nicknames? ♛┋OCCUPATION: FBI Consultant / Former Con-Artist ♛┋AGE: 32+ depending on verse ♛┋DATE OF BIRTH: March 21st ♛┋GENDER: cis male ♛┋PRONOUNS: he/him ♛┋ORIENTATION: bisexual biromantic ♛┋NATIONALITY: american ♛┋ETHNICITY: white ♛┋RELIGION: catholic, but not really practicing actively

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

♛┋FACE CLAIM: Matt Bomer ♛┋EYE COLOUR: blue ♛┋HAIR COLOUR: brown ♛┋DOMINANT HAND: right ♛┋HEIGHT: 5' 11½" // 182cm ♛┋BUILD: athletic ♛┋TATTOOS: none ♛┋SCARS: none to speak of ♛┋PIERCINGS: none ♛┋GLASSES: occasionally when undercover/under an alias, but he has perfect vision ♛┋STYLE: Sophisticated & elegant. He very rarely leaves the house without a suit, often accessorizing with a hat. Usually somewhat vintage, but styled on the modern side. The most casual he usually goes is suit pants with a T-shirt or sweater.

FAMILY

♛┋PARENT #1: James Bennett (father) ♛┋PARENT #2: Angela Caffrey-Bennett (mother) ♛┋SIBLING(S): n/a ♛┋CHILDREN: n/a ♛┋PET(S): n/a ♛┋RELATIONSHIP WITH PARENTS: Non-existent. His father was a corrupt cop who killed a fellow cop and was arrested for it. Until his 18th birthday, Neal was led to believe his dad was a hero who died on the job and knowing the truth about his definitely messed up his entire world view. Add to that the fact that James tried to use Neal to get off after running from authorities for a murder he did commit and Neal certainly has all of the daddy issues. His mother, Neal feels less strong dislike and anger for. She was never a very stable presence in his life and the arrest of his father didn’t exactly help her. Instability and substance abuse made her a rather unfit mother and even though Neal would never say she was bad to him, Ellen was always the only real mother-figure he had. He hasn’t talked to his mother since he was eighteen and she hasn’t reached out either. ♛┋RELATIONSHIP WITH SIBLING(S): n/a

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

♛┋HOMETOWN: St. Louis, Missouri ♛┋CURRENT: New York City, New York ♛┋LANGUAGE(S): English, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, French, German, conversational Italian & Swahili ♛┋SOCIAL CLASS: middle class ♛┋DEGREE: three MBAs and two doctorate degrees but... none of them legit. (in reality, Neal never graduated High School) ♛┋RAP SHEET? bond forgery (at least that’s the only thing they caught him on) ♛┋PRISON TIME? 4 years for bond forgery, another 4 years after breaking out of prison just before his sentence was up -- to be served as a consultant for the FBI

PSYCHOLOGY INFORMATION

♛┋JUNG TYPE: ESTP ♛┋ENNEATYPE: Type 3 -- The Achiever: Focused on the presentation of success, to attain validation & 7w8 ( Type 7 -- The Enthusiast: Pleasure seekers and planners, in search of distraction & Type 8 -- The Challenger: Taking charge, because they don't want to be controlled) ♛┋MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral / Chaotic Good ♛┋TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine ♛┋SCHEMA: Insufficient self-control (very strong). Other contenders include Unrelenting standards, Emotional inhibation, Abandonment and Entitlement hahaaa ♛┋INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Linguistic & Visual are at the same score. Interpersonal is second place. ♛┋NEUROTYPE: Neurotypical

PERSONALITY DETAILS

♛┋POSITIVE: charming, witty, inventive, creative, intelligent ♛┋NEGATIVE: sly, dishonest, distrusting, guarded, detached ♛┋DREAMS/AMBITIONS: Neal’s main goal is always a sense of fun and adventure. he doesn’t have a set end-goal either way -- not the white picket fence life, but also not the life of the fancy villa in some country that doesn’t extradite as some sort of crime lord. He likes the thrill of a con, so if he can make it happen, keeping that alive is what he cares about most. ♛┋FEARS: Among is main fears is definitely turning out like his father. Having idolized him for so many years before he knew who he really was and then seeing a few similarities between them after all really does scare him. He’s aware he’s far from the most honest person alive, but he likes to believe he would never turn to murder or betraying his own closest family and friends the way his father did.

RELATIONSHIPS / SEX

♛┋RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Verse dependent ♛┋PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Several ambivalent on-off relationships (see Alex Hunter), plenty of casual affairs and only a few more serious relationships. The first big one being with Kate which, obviously, was something he was incredibly serious and passionate about. Also the only relationship to date he was so open about and had no shame admitting he’s deeply in love and would do anything for her. The only other (canon) relationship, although also without labels attached, was with Sara which remains his most healthy relationship, though it was foiled by circumstance and perhaps, just Neal’s inability of honesty at the time. ♛┋LEVEL OF SEXUAL EXPERIENCE: high ♛┋STORY OF FIRST KISS: Technically, it happened in the third grade after he drew a girl in his class a nice picture and they then proceeded to date for three weeks, which really just consisted of them holding hands twice, Neal drawing more pictures and that one first kiss at recess. Showed Brittney Nicole too -- his tooth gap clearly wasn’t that bad. ♛┋STORY OF FIRST TIME: Neal had just turned 17 and at the time, had his first more serious girlfriend. They’d been dating for a few months at the time and it happened after a night of plenty of shenanigans on a random Saturday. For Neal, sneaking out was never an issue anyway since parental supervision wasn’t exactly a thing, so no sneaking had to take place, and she’d told her parents she was staying at a friend’s place. Originally, they’d planned to just do whatever they felt like, something they both enjoyed very much (usually that meant Neal rigging the games at a local Arcade and winning her a bunch of stuffed animals or them hanging out at his favorite pool hall where he’d regularly earn a little extra by making some older guys who underestimated him play for money) but that night, they decided to up the stakes a little. They stopped by a second-hand store in town, bought complete outfits (suit and a cocktail dress, respectively) and then proceeded to drive to one of the fancier hotels in town. Somehow, they convinced the guy at the reception that they were relatives of the owner and should have been announced. They ended up getting one of the nicer rooms in the hotel for the night (and, for free!) and the exhilaration of the con pulled off well led to both of their first time.

VICES / HABITS

♛┋SMOKES? No (unless it’s part of a cover) ♛┋DRINKS? Yes, but preferably something respectable and only for taste and enjoyment, not specifically to get drunk ♛┋DOES DRUGS? No ♛┋IS VIOLENT? No ♛┋HAS AN ADDICTION? Well, technically he did say that a con is an addiction and that he hasn’t kicked it yet, so. That. ♛┋IS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? Yes. I think while he comes off very confident and considers himself very confident too, there’s a couple things he just doesn’t believe will happen in his life for him. Among those are stable relationships, so he can sometimes subconsciously be destructive towards those and therefore proof his belief-system. ♛┋HABITS: He likes to have something to do with his hands, especially when he’s nervous. Be it throwing something and catching it again, or just twirling a pen between his fingers. ♛┋HOBBIES: Art, Reading, Cooking, Languages ♛┋OBSESSION(S): Depends on what’s currently important. Kate and the music box definitely developed into a sort of obsession at the time. I think in general, when intense things come up, especially when they threaten his loved ones, Neal has the tendency to get obsessive about them and let those things take over his life (or at least his private life) for the time being.

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

♛┋HOUSE: Raveclaw, though a serious contestant for Slytherin ♛┋VICE: Pride ♛┋VIRTUE: Willingness to do almost everything to protect/help those he cares about ♛┋ELEMENT: Air ♛┋MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Siren or Centaur ♛┋ANIMAL: Fox ♛┋WOULD SURVIVE POST-APOC? Probably not. He’s very smart and would probably find a way to survive for a little while by somehow securing food and the like, but he has practically no combat skills and the second he needs to fight for his life, he would die ♛┋SONG TO DESCRIBE THEM?: Alibis by Marianas Trench

DETAILS / QUIRKS

♛┋PET PEEVES: All of the pet peeves. For someone with an affinity for the illegal, a lot of little things really annoy him. Some examples: the toilet seat being left up, gum on the sidewalk, people eating very fragrant food in confined spaces just to name a few ♛┋NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD?: Night owl ♛┋LIGHT OR HEAVY SLEEPER?: More on the heavy side ♛┋FAVORITE FOOD?: He couldn’t pick. But he does have a real soft spot for cheese. Also risotto. ♛┋LEAST FAVORITE FOOD?: Deviled ham ♛┋FAVORITE DRINK?: Red Wine ♛┋FAVORITE BOOK (GENRE)?: Non-fiction for genre. I don’t think he has a single favorite book though. ♛┋FAVORITE MOVIE?: He likes classic Hollywood movies, ngl. Sunset Boulevard is among one of his favorites. Romantic movies, in general. ♛┋LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?: Anything super action-heavy or overly crude. ♛┋FAVORITE PLACE TO BE?: Not in jail is a great start. France, though, if he could have his choice. ♛┋COFFEE OR TEA?: Coffee. ♛┋FAVORITE COLOR?: Navy blue. ♛┋CUSSER? No. Shit is probably the worst thing he’ll say

#hi i was bored and wanted to do things #┊ ♔ to be an artist you must know who you are 【 CHARACTER STUDIES 】#long post

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lou-bonfightme · 7 years

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Toulouse Henri Bonfamille - Character Sheet

if you get sleep or if you get none / the cock's gonna call in the morning, baby / check the cupboard for your daddy's gun / red sun rises like an early warning / the lord's gonna come for your first born son / his hair's on fire and his heart is burning / so go to the river where the water runs / wash him deep where the tides are turning...

Archetype — The Caregiver Birthday — May 10, 1995 Zodiac Sign — Taurus MBTI — ENTJ Enneagram — 3, the Achiever Temperament — Choleric Hogwarts House — Slytherdor Moral Alignment — True Neutral Primary Vice — Pride Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Adelaide Bonfamille (nee LaBlanc) (Portia de Rossi FC) Father — Hector Bonfamille (Tony Goldwyn) Mother’s Occupation — socialite Father’s Occupation — politician Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — oldest child Brothers — Berlioz Bonfamille (Matt Hitt FC, 20, Birthday: June 20, 1997) Sisters — Marie Bonfamille (Olivia Holt FC, 17, Birthday: April 22, 2000) Other Close Family — Maternal Aunt: Duchess LaBlanc Best Friend — Hades Other Friends — Sophie, Daisy Enemies — Roger, Perdita, literally so many people tbh Pets — A cat that is not his. Also his plants. Home Life During Childhood — emotionally manipulative/abusive; argumentative with father; parental disagreements; was put in charge of younger siblings Town or City Name(s) — Paris, France Details of Town(s) or City(s) — loved the river and parks, only place he had refuge What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — rather plain, big windows, bright, painted a cream color, not a lot of toys but an easel and paints in one corner, a large desk with art supplies. Any Sports or Clubs — nope, he focused solely on his art. Favorite Toy or Game — didn’t really play a lot of games, but he liked building legos with his siblings, or reading to them. Schooling — did excellently in school Favorite Subject — science (especially biology), though he has a fondness for literature as well. Popular or Loner — loner, but girls liked him alot; he had the broody bad boy thing going on, which annoyed him immensely. Important Experiences or Events — moving to Swynlake Health Problems — undiagnosed manic depressive; some minor PTSD and agoraphobia Culture — french, and proud of it. Religion and beliefs — raised catholic, attending church mainly to keep up appearances, he finds parts of religion very beautiful, but also calls bullshit on most of it; he’s too logical and scientific to really find any sort of comfort in it; respects those who are religious though; has a predisposed inclination to dislike muslims based on rhetoric and a lack of proper understanding about the religion.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Freddy Carter Complexion — pale and freckly! Hair Colour — Russet Eye Colour — Green Height — 6′0 Build — slight and tall Tattoos — none and never will Piercings — none Common Hairstyle — perfectly styled 90% of the time, if you catch him without his hair styled he really likes you. Clothing Style — the Most fashionable, very flamboyant, lots of colour Mannerisms — tucks his hands behind his back when he’s nervous or being respectful, if he’s embarrassed his ears turn red Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — not since he’s become a werewolf, but he never really got sick Physical Ailments — none Neurological Conditions — bipolar II Allergies — none Grooming Habits — grooms better than some of my girls lmao. takes very good care of himself--when he’s not in a depressive state, then he has more trouble, but if he’s going out he’ll still go through the motions. Sleeping Habits — terrible sleeper. has really bad insomnia. is up late a lot, sleeps in late a lot. wakes up a lot throughout the night. tosses and turns. has trouble falling asleep. Eating Habits — super picky eater. when depressive/manic sometimes doesn’t eat that much Exercise Habits — lmao what exercise Emotional Stability — off his meds? like a 2/10, on his meds he’s closer to a 6/10 probably. Body Temperature — normal Sociability — very charming, knows what to say to get people to like him. that doesn’t always mean he says those things lol Addictions — none really? Drug Use — smokes pot, doesn’t do other drugs thank god that’d be so bad Alcohol Use — drinks more than he should

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — what habits are not bad habits? Thinking he is right about everything, pointing out people’s flaws, getting in fights, generally believing he knows better than everyone else, not feeling out his emotions, withdrawing when things get tough, not speaking to anyone about things that suck in his life, taking on all challenges alone, i could go on... Good Habits — he’s a good brother, he takes care of his siblings, he takes care of himself, for the most part; he’s an excellent studier; he’s very loyal once you win his loyalty Best Characteristic — his unfaltering loyalty Worst Characteristic — his lack of ability to properly communicate his emotions Worst Memory — all the times he had to hide in the closet, or his father sent him to bed with no dinner and kept him there for hours Best Memory — his siblings being born Proud of — his siblings, his art (sometimes) Embarrassed by — not much, honestly. When people catch him having a proper emotion Driving Style — doesn’t drive but he’d be a total soccer mom Strong Points — his loyalty. It’s unwavering and uncompromising Temperament — volatile Attitude — melancholic. Weakness — not being emotionally vulnerable. Seriously, it would solve so many of his issues Fears — not being good enough, being unlovable, worried that he will always be horribly bitter Phobias — pfft nothING (jk he’s lowkey afraid of storms) Secrets — lmao so many where to start? Mostly that he actually does crave affection Regrets — lol everything; probably the biggest is being so hard on ber during their teen years Feels Vulnerable When — he’s having emotion Pet Peeves — god where do i start? People who dont say what’s on their mind Motivation — protecting his siblings is his main motivation Short Term Goals and Hopes — he doens’t really have any im realizing this rn Long Term Goals and Hopes — also does not have many here Sexuality — grey asexual, biromantic (he could be either rly) Exercise Routine — pfft exercise is for the weak Day or Night Person — night owl Introvert or Extrovert — introverted extrovert lou really does thrive in a crowd but needs a lot of recharge time after Optimist or Pessimist — pessimist highkey

Likes and Styles:

Music — Classics. Classical. Stuff with not a lot of lyrics. Though, he’s also fond of the Opera. He really likes Faust and Don Giovanni. Also, he secretly likes a couple of musicals--Les Miserables and Cats are probably his favourites, though he very rarely indulges in them. Books — Candide by Voltaire is his favourite novel, he’s read it several times. He is a fan of the gothic period, he enjoys books like The Phantom of the Opera. Is not a huge Victor Hugo fan because he finds him a bit wordy, but he does like Hunchback of Notre Dame. He prefers concise language in his novels, but also likes beautiful imagery. He’s an avid reader. Magazines — He reads National Geographic and TBH probably gets a copy of Vogue, as well as a few museum magazines, just to keep up with the art scene. Foods — Lou is not a very big sweets person, he prefers richer foods. His favorite is frozen grapes--red or green, that doesn’t really matter. He’s almost always snacking on grapes. Drinks — Lou loves champagne. He also is an avid drinker of water. Animals — Lou loves birds, they’re his favorite. He’s also a fan of reptiles. And he has a particular interest in dinosaurs. Sports — Lol. Social Issues — Lou takes a bit of a middle road on these issues. There are things that he is rather passionate about--such as LGBTQIA rights (this is a recent development), but he also has some rather...unethical opinions about things like immigration that he usually keeps to himself because he knows that they are contentious subject. Favorite Saying — “Chacun voit midi à sa porte” Translation: Everyone sees noon on his doorstep. Basically, everyone views the world the way that they view it. Color — Ah, he cannot choose--but he does gravitate to warmer, earth colors in his paintings, oranges and reds and browns. Clothing — Lou is extremely fashionable and he always is dressed impeccably. He loves color and very rarely wears dull ones. Jewelry — Not a huge fan of jewlery, I’m sure he has a nice watch though, that his father gave him. Games — Chess. Puzzles. Things that challenge the mind. Websites — Eh, he’s got a tumblr blog, and he’s #instafamous so. TV Shows — Lou doesn’t watch television enough to have favorite shows but he detests reality shows and probably watches them with his brother to make fun of people. Movies — Lou doesn’t watch movies often, but he loves good cinematography. Also, documentaries. Especially nature and historical ones. (Also loves Legally Blonde on the lowkey.) Greatest Want — To be needed. Greatest Need — To learn to embrace his emotions.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — lives at his mother’s home in Swynlake Household furnishings — very modern, aligned with the latest Parisian fashion. Favorite Possession — his art studio, does that count?? Most Cherished Possession — the drawer of arts and crafts that lou kept from his siblings when they were little. Neighborhood — the woods, very posh Town or City Name — Swynlake Details of Town or City — small magic friendly Married Before — to Anita Dearly, long story. Significant Other Before — none. Children — none. Relationship with Family — close with his siblings, though closer with Marie than Berlioz, a bit of a momma’s boy, and has a cordial relationship with his father, is very close with his life-long nanny, Nounou. Car — none. Career — will probably be an artist; should be a surgeon. Dream Career — surgeon he just doesn’t know it yet Dream Life — a successful magical animal treatment center, where he can also practice his art on the side; very little chance of having a family but deep down would love a wife/husband and children, maybe he’ll adopt. (he does not know any of this.) Love Life — a hot mess; tries not to develop feelings for people. Talents or Skills — painting, obviously Intelligence Level — he’s very intelligent and observant Finances — wealthy af

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — he’s been a student. Past Lovers — many; mostly one night stands, very few repeats Biggest Mistakes — being so hard on ber in secondary; marrying anita. Biggest Achievements — uhmmmmm his art has hung in several galleries

#character sheet #about #this was p much finished and since #everyone is POSting them #viola

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pretty-perdita · 7 years

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Perdita Mariel Faye -- Character Sheet

and people don't ever let you down / forever find a way to kill whatever love they've found / a heart beat and I want it too / manhattan is where she grew so i left and i let the flower be / and yesterday saw the flower on cable tv / much prettier than here with me / for all of the world to see

Archetype — The Ruler Birthday — July 6, 1994 Zodiac Sign — Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 4, the individualist Temperament — melancholic Hogwarts House — Slytherin Moral Alignment — True Neutral Primary Vice — Pride Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Fire

Overview:

Mother — Abigail Faye (nee Lewinsky) (FC: Kristi Allen) Father — Michael Faye (FC: William Shatner) Mother’s Occupation — socialite/homemaker Father’s Occupation — private banker/wall street broker Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — second child Brothers — Edmund (26, FC: Chris Pine) Sisters — Ophelia and Rosaline (17 in November; FCs: Camilla and Rebecca Rosso) Other Close Family — Penelope and Patrick Patts (children, 1 year olds) Best Friend — Anita Dearly; Georgette Midler (childhood best friend) Other Friends — Roger Radcliffe, Annette Grant, Raksha Bendiya, Enemies — Toulouse Bonfamille, Marie Bonfamille, Al McWiggin, Cruella deVil, Chester Glass, really so many people Pets — Viola, dalmatian. (Really Anita’s but she lives with her.) Home Life During Childhood — A Daddy’s Girl. She was the picture perfect angelic daughter, until she got her heartbroken. Then she turned into a rebel. Her and her mother had an awful, toxic relationship. Her mom was an alcoholic and was always judging Perdy (her looks, her attitude, her body, etc etc). Her father didn’t really do anything to stop it. She had a good relationship with her older brother Edmund, they are very close. Has a contentious relationship with her sisters, but she loves the little shits. Town or City Name(s) — New York City, NY USA; Cambridge, England What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Perdita’s house has five floors, but the top floor is just a little hallway and a bedroom with a bathroom attached. This was Edmund’s room until he left for the military when he was 18 (when Perdita was about 14.) Then, Perdita took it over. It was decorated with all white furniture and dark pink almost magenta accents. Always messy, her clothes thrown about and make up all over her vanity. After her boyfriend broke her heart, she changed everything to dark reds because she was dramatic like that. The furniture stayed white, though. Any Sports or Clubs — Martial Arts (she’s a blackbelt); was in clubs like student council and stuff when she was younger, but after her sophomore year she dropped out of most clubs. Schooling — Private Jewish school from Pre-K to middle school, some preppy school in NYC for high school, Cambridge University for college--double major in mathematics and literature. Favorite Subject — Math Popular or Loner — Popular Important Experiences or Events — The first time she got drunk. When her boyfriend broke her heart. When she saw her mother really, truly drunk the first time. Nationality — American Culture — Jewish/American Religion and beliefs — Jewish, mostly non practicing. She does the big stuff like Hanukkah and Passover.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Yael Grobglas Complexion — golden skin tone, she can get very tan and surprisingly does not sunburn easily. Has a decent amount of acne though her skin has gotten much better since being pregnant. Has breakouts though because she doesn’t take her makeup off properly (wears it to bed sometimes and wears it for exercising.) Hair Colour — golden blonde Eye Colour — blue Height — 5’8 Build — tall, very beautiful, long legs. Slender, has put on weight around her hips because of babies, but stays well-toned. Takes very good care of her body. Tattoos — none Piercings — ears (probably double holes and maybe a cartilage); used to have nose piercing but she took it out when she was like 19-20; used to have belly button piercing but not since she had babies. Common Hairstyle — down, in waves that she normally enhances with a curler (her natural waves are more tight than the loose ones she does). Hates putting her hair up and does it only on very rare occasions. Clothing Style — fashionable. Wears a lot of bright colors. Keeps up to date with fashion trends. Designer brands. Lots of accessories (is always wearing earrings/necklaces/bracelets/different handbags) Mannerisms — Rarely fidgets. Crosses her arms over her chest a lot because she does it when she’s anxious or feeling exposed. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Actually, yes. Perdita gets colds very easily and she has allergies so she’s constantly taking medicine for those. When she travels she tends to get sick. Physical Ailments — None, she’s pretty fit. Maybe a little anemic post-babies. Neurological Conditions — Post-partum depression (medicated). Allergies — none really except general allergies in the spring/summer Grooming Habits — excellent. Perdita takes great care of herself. Her worst habit is going to sleep with her makeup on sometimes. Sleeping Habits — Perdita has turned into a back sleeper since the babies. She also sleeps very deeply. Being a single mom to twin toddlers, and the assistant to a high fashion designer is taxing. Eating Habits — she eats kosher most of the time. Also is very health-conscious (almost to a fault.) She rarely eats sweets. Exercise Habits — Perdita is getting back into kickboxing. She does a lot of yoga/pilates to keep her body #tight because she’s worried about the weight she gained while pregnant. She’s very body/health conscious. Emotional Stability — haha. Well--if we don’t include her depression, Perdita is definitely solid mentally. She knows who she is. She is unapologetic about it. Internally, she’s quite insecure, but she mostly ignores that little voice (except for in her appearance, which she takes great care of and pride in.) Body Temperature — moderate. She can definitely get cold. She hates extreme temperatures in either direction because she’s rather “cold blooded” aka her temperature changes with the air around her. Sociability — Perdita is super extroverted. She’s very good with people. Knowing their weaknesses. Analyzing them. She uses her extrovert personality as a weapon. Addictions — none Drug Use — none; used to do party drugs/smoked weed on occasion, used pretty bad in high school. Also, she takes prescribed anti-depressants Alcohol Use — drinks pretty regularly but rarely gets horribly drunk

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — bites her nails really lowkey, though she won’t admit it. Also she picks at the split ends in her hair all the time. Also is way defensive. She’s quick to snap at people. Good Habits — Takes care of herself and her body. Takes care of the people closest to her. Best Characteristic — Her fierceness. Worst Characteristic — She’s also a coward lmao Worst Memory — When she got her heart broken when she was 16. Best Memory — When the babies were born and the four of them were all happy and healthy and together. Proud of — her babies, her friends, the fact that she has come back from her post-partum Embarrassed by — not a lot, tbh. Except maybe like her ears. Driving Style — perdita never learned how to drive growing up rich in NYC pfft Strong Points — She doesn’t let herself be defeated. Even if she is inwardly crumbling, she refuses to break. She’s very resilient. Temperament — I promise you she’s level-headed--okay, well, level-headed on her way to hot-headed. She is chill until you annoy her. Also a very defensive person. Attitude — Holier-than-thou. She definitely thinks that she is better than almost everyone else. Weakness — her babies, loving people. Fears — being made fun of, being a loser lmao Phobias — none, but she’s really not a fan of spiders/other creepy crawlies Secrets — that she has post-partum. Only the quartet know about that. Regrets — Leaving Paul and taking the babies from him. Feels Vulnerable When — all the fucking time man. Pet Peeves — incompetent people Conflicts — her pride v her heart Motivation — to keep her family safe; to prove to her mother she’s worth something Short Term Goals and Hopes — to be a good mother, to get better (from her post-partum) Long Term Goals and Hopes — to be a good mother, to make something of herself. Sexuality — she’s p fuckin straight. Would make out w girls at like parties and shit. Day or Night Person — a night owl, tbh. Introvert or Extrovert — extrovert Optimist or Pessimist — realist.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Broadway!! Her favorite. She loves Anything Goes. That’s her favorite musical, but she likes pretty much all of them. Her favorites are the oldies though. The classics. She really likes Cats (ironically), Phantom, Les Mis, Hairspray...she also has a secret soft spot for some old country like Sheryl Crow and Shania Twain. Books — Perdita read a lot in college, as a literature major, she kind of had to, but she never really liked reading. It was perfectly fine and all, but she much preferred her math classes. Magazines — All the magazines. Perdita is a fan of gossip and has to always keep up with the latest fashion trends and celebrity scandal. Foods — Perdita really likes salads. No. She like--actually likes them. I know, she’s weird. Loves a good italian dressing, though and olives and spinach mmmm Drinks — Red wine. That’s her favorite. Though, she’s also a fan of prosecco. If we’re going nonalcoholic she hates orange juice, her mom used to force her to drink it because Perdy had a weak immune system. She loves lemonade and sweet tea though. Animals — She likes pretty animals--like horses and big cats and wolves. Also, a fan of dogs. But, mostly she’s pretty indifferent to animals. Sports — Paul lowkey totally got Perdita into football. Also, her dad likes to watch American football, so she always was watching sports growing up. Also baseball. Yankee fans, ofc. Social Issues — Perdita is a feminist, but it is a problematic kind of feminism. It’s hard to explain because she thinks women are better than men, but she definitely engages in toxic misogynistic (girl hate) behavior and stuff like that. Color — White. She loves the cleanness of it and how it goes with everything and is a daring color. Not many people wear white. Clothing — Fashionable. Designer as much as possible. Bold, bright colors. Always dressed to impress. Jewelry — Lots of gold, not as much a fan of silver. Earrings/necklaces/bracelets most days. She’s toned down the jewelry because babies like to pull on things. Games — Perdita actually loves video games. She’ll play pretty much anything. She loves racing games and shoot ‘em up games. Websites — Anything gossipy. Also a big instagramer. Ofc. Twitter too, probably. Facebook. Tumblr. All social media. Greatest Want — to be successful and to be loved Greatest Need — to forgive herself and to apologize for the wrongs she’s done.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — she lives in an apartment with Anita in the Benbow. 101, first floor. Household furnishings — it’s a ragtag bunch of furniture. They got donations mostly from Sarabi and Simba and the Grants. Lots of baby stuff, everywhere. It’s a bit crowded but nice enough. Favorite Possession — Her wardrobe that she managed to scavenge. Most Cherished Possession — The baby blanket that Edmund brought her when he told her to run. Neighborhood — they live in Benbow, near the university campus Town or City Name — Swynlake, Wiltshire County, UK Details of Town or City — magick-friendly, small, country, etc Married Before — No. Significant Other Before — Connor Madison, broke her heart when she was 16. String of lovers after that. Paul Patts -- father of her children. Children — Penelope Eowyn Patts and Patrick Aaron Patts. 1 year old. Relationship with Family — A Daddy’s Girl. She was the picture perfect angelic daughter, until she got her heartbroken. Then she turned into a rebel. Her and her mother had an awful, toxic relationship. Her mom was an alcoholic and was always judging Perdy (her looks, her attitude, her body, etc etc). Her father didn’t really do anything to stop it. She had a good relationship with her older brother Edmund, they are very close. Has a contentious relationship with her sisters, but she loves the little shits. Car — none. Career — assistant to Duchess LaBlanc Dream Career — a statistician for a large company Dream Life — together w Paul, married, with their babies. I cry. Love Life — Lol. Nonexistent at the moment. Still in love with Paul. Talents or Skills — A whiz at numbers. Also not a bad dancer. A black belt in karate. Intelligence Level — Very intelligent. Finances — She’s good at budgeting but she does not have a lot of money.

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — she didn’t work except for a few internships at big wig companies during university. Past Lovers — Connor Madison, broke her heart when she was 16. String of lovers after that. Paul Patts -- father of her children. Biggest Mistakes — leaving Paul. Biggest Achievements — Becoming Duchess’ assistant. Staying on her feet after being disowned. Having her babies.

#about #inspiration #character sheet #my lil perditaaa #my honey

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