#so tired od this topic being impossible to talk about with anyone because everything everyone (including self) says is wrong

[oak1985]

Not jumping on someone else’s post but. What Russia is doing in Ukraine is horrible. And. It’s not on the same scale as what Israel is doing in Gaza. 11,000 civilian deaths in 2, almost 3, years is not the same as 40,000 in 1 year. Especially given the % of population these numbers represent (0.02% vs. 4%).

People in the US are not protesting what’s happening in Ukraine. Or in China. Or the Sudan. Or Haiti. Or….. And a lot of that is ignorance. And a lot of it is peer pressure. And some of it is antisemitism. But some of it is also because the US is not directly sending military aid to Russia, or China, or the Sudanese militia, or Haitian gangs.

Antisemitism is real and present and scary. But it is not the only and possibly not the dominant reason protests are happening. And we do a disservice when we make each other more scared and impose impossible litmus tests on every criticism of Israel.

[oxfordeliterp]

CONGRATULATIONS, AREEJ!

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

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

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

Age: 17

Time-zone: GMT

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

Triggers:  removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charlotte Zerilli

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

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

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

Traits:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extras:

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

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

PARA SAMPLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.