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what-if-rpg · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the family, KATT! Your application for FRANNIE FABRAY was accepted, as well as the changes. I am really happy to give you your third, and last character! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! I can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Francine “Frannie” Grace Fabray CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 38 & January 4th OCCUPATION: Lawyer FACE CLAIM: AJ Cook HOMETOWN & CITY WHERE LIVES NOW: Lima, Ohio & New York, NY SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: (Closeted) Lesbian & Cis-Female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single POSITIVE TRAITS: hardworking , benevolent , adaptive NEGATIVE TRAITS: distant , argumentative , sarcastic CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: “I think almost everyone tries hard to be good and just finds out too late they should have tried softer.“

HEADCANONS

Frannie Fabray was always her parents’ so-called “golden” child. She was the bar upon which her younger sister was measured. Smart, well rounded, the kind of child that never put up too much fuss and did as she was told with ease. An athlete and a scholar, it seemed that whatever she tried, she did well. It was all surface level, however, but she never let it show. Frannie skipped a grade early in her schooling and nearly skipped a second grade going into high school, but chose not to. Either way, she was the head cheerleader, a soccer star, debate team captain, and excelled in every aspect of school and life that she tried, except for relationships. In fact, she seemed completely disinterested in boys and relationships. She was a devout Christian and claimed that she saw no reason in letting boys even begin to be a temptation.

After graduating high school, Frannie left home for college, eventually getting into Harvard’s law school. She did her best to keep up with her family, but her schooling was always her first priority. In fact, the longer she was at college, the less she heard from her family and the less she went home. She was working on her own well being and destroying the parts of herself that her parents had built up.

While in law school, Frannie had a mental breakdown. She’d been struggling massively with everything and it led to her nearly ending up in a psychiatric hospital. She was diagnosed with ADHD and started therapy to help deal with it, as well as the anxiety, depression, and other issues that came up because of it. She also began to get help for an eating disorder that had been plaguing her since her early childhood. It did wonders for her and she managed to pull through her law degree with flying colors.

When it was discovered that her father had cheated, Frannie wasn’t at all surprised. What she was surprised by was her mother actually bothering to divorce him. It was during a conversation with her mother, about Russell, that Frannie learned that Quinn had gotten pregnant and subsequently kicked from the family home, but that Judy had since welcomed her back into the home. It was one of the last conversations Frannie had with her mother for a number of years, angry that the older woman had even let it happen in the first place. She may not have really known her younger sister, but the idea of her parents kicking the girl out for a simple mistake, one that the lack of sex ed and general taboo nature of sex had certainly helped cause.

While Frannie was gaining work experience in the District Attorney’s office, and working on a secondary degree in criminal justice, she met a man by the name of Elijah Griffin. He was the first man she’d ever been remotely interested in, in a romantic way, and they dated for a few years before he proposed and she said yes. They were engaged for nearly five years before they actually decided upon a courthouse wedding. Their relationship was, like much in Frannie’s life, very surface level. They went on dates, held hands, but even after they married they often slept in separate beds in the home they shared. In fact, their first time, and of of their only times, having sex didn’t come until they’d been married for 3 years. They were hoping it would spark something between them, but all it really resulted in was Frannie getting pregnant and later giving birth to their son, Alexander.

It took about a year after Alexander was born before they both decided to try and experiment with their sexuality, given neither had ever had much interest in the opposite sex and their own relationship seemed to be built on trying to conform to heteronormative expectations of parents with dreams of perfect children. The pair entered what was, essentially, a polyamorous relationship, using it as a cover for what they were really doing. About a year later, they both came to the realization that they were gay and agreed to divorce in order to pursue relationships that could actually be beneficial to them both. Frannie got full custody of Alexander, with a promise that he could spend summers with Elijah, and that Elijah was free to visit and have him when he wanted, within reason. Unlike Elijah, Frannie chose to remain in the closet, needing extra time to come to terms with what it meant for her. Being gay had never been in her plans. The plans she’d made so carefully and remade every few years to better fit her ambition.

Around the time Elijah and Frannie opened their relationship, Frannie learned from her mother that Russell hadn’t just cheated, he’d had an entire separate family. With everything going on in her own life, Frannie did nothing with the information provided to her, but did allow for her information to be given to any of her half-siblings looking to connect. When Juliette made contact, Frannie wasn’t sure what to do, but she did her best to be kind and to connect with the younger woman. It, somewhat unfortunately, poked at old wounds Frannie had involving Quinn and the regrets of never having reached out, now that both were adults. It was in learning that both Quinn and Juliette were in New York that Frannie’s plans for her own law firm changed. She had originally planned to open it in Boston, but with her divorce finalized and Elijah’s blessing, she set her sights on New York, instead. As of Frannie’s 38th birthday, she’d moved to New York, successfully started her own firm, and landed her first major case.

CONNECTIONS

Judy Fabray (Mother): Frannie’s relationship with her mother was always one based on her looks and her place in society. It was never something she held close and in time, much like her relationship with her father, began to fall apart. The only time she has spoken to her mother in recent years was when Judy told her about Russell’s other family. Russell Fabray (Father): Frannie’s relationship with her father was one based somewhat entirely on her being perfect. A fragile thing that she slowly learned wasn’t healthy for her and is, in part, why she became more and more distant from her family the longer she was away from home. It almost came as no surprise to Frannie that her father was a cheater and had an entirely separate family. Quinn Fabray (Sister): Frannie and Quinn never really got on. Between the age difference and Frannie being the bar against Quinn was measured, no real relationship was capable of forming and by the time Frannie had completely distanced herself from their parents, any hope of a relationship between them disappeared. Frannie has considered reaching out to Quinn, but still hasn’t done so. Avery & Daniel Fabray (Half-Siblings): Frannie hasn’t actually met them but has no ill will towards them, if anything, she feels bad for them, also having Russell as a father. Juliette Fabray (Half-Sister): When Juliette reached out to Frannie, the older woman did her best to return it in kind. To be open to the possibility of forming some sort of relationship. It’s a work in progress, with neither really opening up too much, but it’s more of a relationship than Frannie has with any of her other family. Elijah Griffin (Ex-Husband): Elijah and Frannie were together for a number of years. He was the only man she ever really held any possible romantic interest in, or so she believed, so she clung to that for as long as she could. A number of years after they were married, they both realized that there was a possibility they weren’t attracted to each other. They both ended up finding out they were gay and when Elijah was ready to come out, they divorced. He is still the only person who knows, for sure, that she’s a lesbian. Alexander Fabray-Griffin (Son): Alexander is the only person Frannie would ever give up her career for. He is her entire world and as much as she hates that he was born into a family that ultimately couldn’t stay together, she doesn’t regret having him. He is the best parts of both her and Elijah and all she really hopes is that she raises him in such a way that he never has to do the kind of recovering from his childhood the way she did.

#Frannie Fabray #Accepted #Glee RP #Glee RPG #RP #RPG

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dishonoredrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, ALLI! You’ve been accepted for the role of SEVEN OF SWORDS with the faceclaim of CILLIAN MURPHY. Canis is certainly a fucking concept, whom I adore to no end. He’s got a tenacious and willful sort of attitude about him, the kind of incredulous charm and wit that lends itself to an air of villainy and danger, and I think that he fits into the Seven of Swords like one fits into a well-made boot or glove. In spite of remaining leashed like a dog, he’s got no small amount of fire in him, and I’m eager to see what (or who!) he sinks his teeth into during gameplay. You’ve brought me a real gift, dropped it on my doorstep, and I am grateful.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

— APPLICATION

OOC

NAME: alli PRONOUNS: she / her AGE: twenty - one TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: cst / i am currently on summer break and have the ability to be really active , but sometimes things do come up ! i definitely have plenty of time to be on the dash with several posts within activity limit and when my muse is high ( i’ll be honest i’m a hoe for high fantasy ) my activity is also super up ! ANYTHING ELSE?: what’s the mead sis…….. the wenches are squabbling …….

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: seven of swords NAME: efferus aubenet / “canis” & “the dog” efferus - of latin meaning , “wild , savage , cruel , barbarous” . a name canis has long since abandoned , preferring even the subtle jab of “the dog” given to him by opponents of his crew and the highborn that look down on him . he finds it just about as cutting as a bread knife . no one except those closest to him ( ie . the pack ) even know this name exists . canis - latin for “ dog ” , though also the scientific genus for all canines , including wolves and coyotes . meant to symbolize canis as the leader of his pack of wild dogs , and a sign of respect , a nickname earned on the streets and not given to him in tyrholm . the dog - a nickname received while working under king septimus , by those that see the second fangs as dirty , unruly , savages . also by revolters who see canis as a dog blindly following the orders of a tyrannical king. in any case , he still prefers this to efferus . sometimes he even barks in response . FACECLAIM: cillian murphy , michiel huisman ( he / him pronouns , cis male ) AGE: thirty - nine , born on the twenty - seventh day of the twelfth month

DETAILS: i always find myself drawn to underdog characters , muses that have overcome more than most others could even imagine to find themselves in their present position . i believe there is so much depth to backgrounds like canis’s . no family so he created his own , nothing to his name so he created his own legacy . a moral compass that tries it’s best to always point north . that fails , because the muse is so painfully human . the irony of a sellsword who wants more for himself ? incredible . when i was skimming the skeletons , it was his that startled practically writing itself , this street urchin turned warrior figure , so i spent a lot of time picking apart the biography until i was left with canis . i did a bit of research on the seventh of swords tarot card , but let me tell you .. i was so pleasantly surprised and intrigued when i did . on one hand , when upright , seven of swords means scheming , resourcefulness , cunning , and lies , all traits that have gotten canis to where he is today , however negative , the legacy he’s forged for himself and all deeply tied to his work . however , when reversed , the seven of swords can mean confession , conscience , regret , and maliciousness , which i think lend beautifully to this character’s private struggles . there is a very heavy mix of negative and positive attributes leant towards seven of sword’s core character , someone who wants to do right by themselves at great cost . when interpreting the tarot as canis , i was drawn to the maliciousness and the regret ( in sometimes equal measure ) of the reversed card . i believe there is so much more to this character than just his web of scheming and lies , that canis’s true self comes from somewhere within , and i’m really excited to explore his inner conflicts. this man has so many issues that he’s buried and i think the possibility of him becoming a part of the revolution? impeccable. my muse for this skeleton ? through the roof .

BACKGROUND

I . O’ ROMULUS AND REMUS , CASTOR AND POLLUX , WHAT IS ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER ? a twin , you were told , though it feels like something you should never be permitted to forget. you’ve never felt him there , not like a phantom limb or a guiding whisper. just a story , when you’re feeling ungrateful for your lot in this realm , that there is only one where there once was two. born in the dead of winter -- the one that bit at the napes of even the most fur cloaked nobility of markholm , that anyone unlucky enough to live through it can still recall as “ceaseless” -- and childbirth takes your mother as it goes. two children , born sickly , cold. so you are dubbed efferus , a savage beast who can claw his way into life , barely holding onto breath , already having taken a life. it takes a village to raise motherless boys. sometimes it takes more than that. your brother doesn’t make it past the winter , but you keep growing , getting stronger by the day , and finally spring flowers bloom forth from hard soil. the goat farmer next door tells your father you are a resilient one , that the undying smiled upon him. another miracle , that your life could be a blessing and not a curse. as long as you knew him , your father kept steadfast in deep religion , devout , praying over the crops. the cattle. the harvest. even your birth , a story he recants so mystically it’s hard to imagine you were there. “we all bled fer you ,” he always starts , like it’s your fault , “my son , my son. let all else be damned fer ‘im.” two lives for the price of one , he reminds you , and you’re just a boy , but you still find it all absurd. there’s never been a rhyme or reason to suffering. “you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid fer.” sometimes it seems a compliment. others .. you aren’t so sure. your father hath no mercy for the weak or spineless , though he wasn’t an inherently evil man either , at least not in the figments you can conjure of him. you plow the fields , with hands so rough with calluses you can’t feel the hilt of the axe you use to cut the firewood. you milk the cows , so gentle with great beasts you start to forget your name. you’re skin and bone and beating heart , not much to look at , but just the blessing your father asked for all the same. a good boy , in that you were capable and healthy and strong. a bad seed , in that you cared for little and didn’t always do as you were told. it’s your tenth winter when frostbitten tendrils take first your farm , and then your father. you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid for , you remember , and it almost makes you laugh. perhaps it’s not so funny that you mourn very little the life you lost. perhaps still it is a testament to your strength , a boy of only ten who shoulders already a lifetime of death and decay. who makes it look a load easy to bear. who are you , efferus aubenet? and who will you become?

II . A MIRRORED MIDAS , IF EVERYTHING HE HAD TOUCHED TURNED TO DEATH AND ROT . a street urchin with no farm , no family , and most prominently no coin. winters slip away like sand through an hourglass , and it’s all you can do to keep track of the time that folds beneath you. one year , and you’re frail and quiet and know only to keep to yourself. three years and you’ve developed a taste for fighting , scrappy as you are. it’s just a game , in the beginning , one the other coinless children keep telling you you’re too good at , “it’s no fun fighting a hungry dog.” five years and you’re taller , more meat to your bones. you’re better at sneaking things out of the market , extra to feed your friends. you learned the hard way what happens if you don’t bring back enough , if you turn a blind eye to people who call out your name. you hear it when you dream , half awake in chilled darkness. “i’m so hungry, efferus. i’m so hungry.” you start going by canis. it makes it easier to sleep. six , seven years and you’re so good at fighting that your pockets start to feel heavy. cobbled streets whisper canis when you cross. bruised fists and a bloody conscience , not all soldiers make it out of battle alive. it dawns on you , slowly but with all the force of a crack of lightning , why the others like to call you dog. maybe it’s because you were born from death , or because you know loss so well it colors your eyelids when you blink , but it seems all you’re good for. you discover a rage within you , one which you’re sure ( you hope , foolish as it is ) any man is capable of , if pushed too far. but it’s directionless , vile in the way it sits inside your chambered heart. there is nothing more universal than pain. nothing more isolating than anger. a boy with a taste for blood. so blind to the way you snap , like branch under boot , when you push too hard. what place is there for you in an unforgiving world , wracked with hardship? at whose table do you dine? you knew love once , it felt like sharing bread and blankets and tales of woe. like years on the streets relying only on wit and steadfast determination to survive. like knowing a person fully , inside and out , as you’d always known yourself. that too would be taken from you , like everything else. for the price of just a single coin , you watched your love take their last breath , watched the thief make off with their blood money , felt truly and terribly powerless. worse than losing your father to deep winter chill you lost your first love to a blade. and in the end , it meant nothing. the sons of argos could not undo what you’d done , what had been done to you , but maybe you could give back tenfold. it starts small , at a table in your favorite tavern , as all great plots tended to do. an invitation to join a company you’d heard about only in whispers. you saw espace , penance where others saw a home , but that would always be enough for you. it was intended to be permanent , a family you couldn’t lose , under a friend who would lay down their life for the men , women , and children under their protection. a life of adventure to call your own and you didn’t need to suffer anymore. you had but one skill , it seemed , beyond tending to the herd and trimming too tall crops , and your father once taught you that skill fed fortune ( though the money , you’d find , would come later ) . you don’t think the sons is quite what your dearly departed had in mind , and this makes your smile widen. you’ve always found humor in odd places. what follows is a career far short of extravagant , fighting crime like a bunch of vigilanties , tied to a city state that knows little of its own streets. you hunger for travel , to sink your teeth into shores unseen , land untended. to make a real name for yourself and anyone who followed suit. “mind your place , mutt,” you hear more than once , and you want to swat the others away like flies buzzing in swelling ears. but there’s something sharp , too , like a cut that just won’t heal. your voice is too loud amongst the rest , your name -- the name you paid for in blood -- nothing next to strength’s. the captain you were meant to worship turned to dust in your heavy fist , the family you forged alongside them never yours to call your own. you tell yourself they betrayed you , like everything else in this life they gave you nothing to hold onto save for the back of their coattails , but in truth you were never meant to stay. minding your place felt a lot like digging six feet down to lay rest. it’s like waking from a dream , one you push down when it returns to you in the night , leaving the sons for good. four winters you slept under their tents , ate at their table , and still you feel nothing when you pack what’s yours ( and maybe some of what isn’t , but who would dare come looking for it? ) and go. no one follows , no one even pleads your case , and when you see them playing knights on the docks the fire in you swells. it’s all rot now.

III . WHERE WOULD ICARUS BE NOW , IF SOMEONE WISE HAD CLIPPED CURSED WINGS? iriebury is the stank of unwashed flesh , the heat of southern sun , something to conquer. the citizens are mean and the crime meaner. it makes tyrholm look a lot like playing pretend , the sons seem like a group of toy soldiers. to survive in iriebury you need your bark , you need your bite. naturally , you thrive. it takes just one winter , one warm southern winter , before you have something to call a crew of your very own. the second fangs , a handful of beaten down , nearly finished off mutts that think you look like a future. you’ll find one day , when you’ve turned to face the wrong end of a sword , these dogs’ loyalty knows no bounds. and maybe you do have a family after all. they don’t look like warriors born for battle , but they’re sharp on every edge and speak of you like you hung the moon. like a prophecy spun from the undying herself. the queen of iriebury’s no different , when you flash her a smile and run a sword through her guard. this is your destiny. with work and full bellies , the second fangs grow , picking up more men and women the rest of markholm cast aside , giving them all purpose. leadership becomes you , you’re kind in places other captains breathe fire. your men adore you , and maybe this is why it’s easy to lose yourself a bit. you’ve always been looking for him , that voice inside of you that has guided every confident step , and you really start to believe you’ve found him at the end of a blade. what you do isn’t pretty like life in a castle , it isn’t gentle like the farm or humble like a temple , but it suits you. you find company at the bottom of a bottle , family inside the taverns and brothels , atop dirty cobblestone. it all feels a lot like honor , like duty. you’re known for your loyalty and cunning among burdened skill. work lends to virtue or some mirrored image of the sort. the second fangs take the jobs you approve , not the ones the queen hands you , nails stained with blood , and who knew a mercenary crew with such an eye for morality? bastards that comb the streets but speak with love fresh on their lips. you’re a heathen with heart , of that not even the fiercest opponents can dispute. maybe there is a place in this world for nameless , coinless men with a hunger for something more. you give back to your beloved pack what they give to you ; everything , everything and then some. a life that means more than scraping the bottom of the barrel. you can’t carry on like this forever and survive , and it’s only a matter of time before real gold starts knocking. a steady job , you’re promised. a lifetime of stability , peace. you know more of the king of tyrholm than you let on , and maybe you are naive to trust the word of a woman who did not raise herself , but when you look at your company’s worn faces and tired smiles , weathered from southern strife , it’s never been easier to bend a knee. some odd winters , some odd springs , lived with modest lavesty. septimus is an arse of a man that whispers corroded bidding into your graceless ear. no one but the second fangs knows how much you shake , when the job is done and you’re safe at home. how much weight you shoulder , for yourself , for your men , for the lives you’ve taken. the lives you will take. your crew was never meant to become a rebellion. the glory feels lost , you’re a knight without chivalry , a wolf without teeth. you hear dog more than your own name and you bite back bile when you look in a mirror , but still , you think , you would do it all over again. the second fangs are a happy crew , well fed and housed and nothing like the orphans you sheltered so many moons ago. when it starts to feel like you have your own sons of argos you shelf the thought. your pack looks at you , strong and fit and still just a bit withered , and laugh and cheer. “yer getting old, canis,” they jest , when you stumble into bed. “hunch - backed from all that gold in yer pockets.” you’ve always been wiser than most of them , something raw in your heart that keeps it beating steadfast. better you than them , you know. most men would crack at what you’d seen. what you know. there’s good to be found , once you learn how to look , like the devotion of judgement , a beauty in worship that reminds you of all your father’s useless praying. peaceful in all it’s absurdity. there’s friendship in odd places , with the empress you serve. you find it hard to trust in tyrholm , unaccustomed to the politics of a ruling class , the society that never once smiled down on a farm boy and his widowed father. you want to be wise and cunning , still sometimes you feel inadequate next to those raised in education , but the queen saw your potential before anyone else in the whole retched kingdom , and that has to mean something. there’s the fool , a real dog you sometimes think , who mirrors your old captain so much it makes your skin crawl. they aren’t so bad , but it’s hard for you to look up at someone who serves at the hand of the king. you wonder if others think the same of you. fools , the whole lot of them. you know what the queen expects of you , your word is your livelihood , but these things take time. for now , you’re comfortable ; your cup is full. there’s always been something about wars to come that feels like home , ragged and battle scarred thing that you are. and besides , it’s easier to put out a fire that burns inside your ribs than one that swallows an entire kingdom , of this you are certain.

PLOT IDEAS

STRENGTH: oh boy oh man. canis can’t hold his tongue with distaste even if he tried , and he definitely doesn’t try with them. his anger often gets the better of him and i believe he would try to confront strength every chance he gets. he sees this skeleton as nothing more than the king’s right hand ( literally so exciting to me that strength is also a revolter and i’m sure neither of them know they’re destined to work on the same side again?? ) and i think he reflects a lot of his own inadequacies onto this skeleton , a lot of his failure. with such a tension relationship i’d like to see fights break out .. maybe even between their own respective men that they’d have to quell. far down the line even settling their differences and working together as the military leaders of a revolution because who is better suited for the job than them? but it would take a big blow to canis’s pride to share such a job , to ever work alongside this skeleton instead of against them like he always has. so all around? here for it all. NINE OF WANDS: canis looks at them and sees passion he once was sure he felt , the sharp thing in his gut that once spurred him to forge his own path in a world that never once showed him kindness. his scars are internal , but they wear their scar like a badge of honor , at least that’s how canis sees it. he’d love to not have to kill the king himself , even if he would never admit it. it means a safer life for his men , it means being done with tyrholm and a life of ease and travel , everything he’s always wanted and never seemed to be able to grasp. i wonder if them growing closer through sparring and their ability to provide him the best weapons he’s ever seen could change his opinion on wanting them to kill the king in a fit of rage?? i could see canis wanted to strategize with them , in the end , once he’s done poking the bear. love this gift of a connection a lot !!!! THE EMPRESS: definite ass kissing going on here. canis is more than grateful he was hired by her and not the king , though i do think he might resent them a little for the work the king makes his company do. he prefers to take jobs from them , when ordered , though i feel their relationship at this point goes beyond just work like it does with septimus. he trusts them and it does help him to sleep at night thinking he could be serving their hand and not septimus’s. also entirely possibly they call him the dog but with them it doesn’t feel like malice. he would never dare disrespect the queen , especially one he sees goodness in , sees his entire future in. would be really interesting if canis even is a little too friendly with them , giving them a hard time where maybe no one else would dare to do , an annoying prick in her side that she NEEDS to get what she wants. THE HERMIT: i think he has a lot of respect for the hermit. in ways that his pride keeps him from seeing his similarities with strength , he sees so much of who he once was in them. young , making their own way , maybe even some of the same rage , though canis has no place to put his own. i feel like if the respect was mutual they could have a friendly relationship , canis even pushing advice onto them they might not want or need. if a revolution came he would back them. somewhere , he probably even sees them as something of a good king. canis doesn’t trust them fully , but he could drink with them , knows the second fangs would treat them kindly as well. THE HIGH PRIESTESS: canis is scared of little , but he’s scared shitless of them. he avoids them at all costs , looks the other way when they’re brought to the same space. he doesn’t talk kindly of necromancers , though maybe there is some envy there he needs to address. he’s sure this doesn’t go unnoticed , not with all their years of wisdom. i think it could be really interesting though if one of his closest friends is killed on a job and they bring them back as he watches , sees this power first hand , feels even a debt is owed though none of the fear is gone. a lot of possibilities , i could see the second fangs might be dying a lot more often pretty soon ... JUSTICE: the world calls canis the dog because they see him as filth , as something mangey that feeds from table scraps of the king , but canis sees that justice is the real dog. and he pities him for it. there’s little glory in the work of a bodyguard , and maybe canis wonders how justice would fair in his own company. never the less , i think they could butt heads just as easily as they could share a pint. maybe they’ve even fought in some of the same battles , know each other from war torn lives and have a bond because of this. lots of potential for both malice and comradery , no matter what line of the revolution they tread. THE LOVERS: canis sees himself and more in them. he doesn’t pity easily , has an ability to find the strength in even the smallest mouse , but he pities the lovers. in some ways , i think he wants what they have , longs for something as fulfilling as love , and doesn’t want to see this squashed. every day he gets closer to telling them of the war to come. i really wonder how long he can go without letting anything slip , especially if they look at him with gentleness or show him great kindness. he feels they need to prepare , like he is , for a future of destruction. THE MOON: okay okay .. i have two different paths that i think might be interesting with this skeleton depending on what gets plotted out. BUT .. i could imagine canis stumbles into their office after being badly injured on the job , probably requesting some random herb because it HURTS and he’s WEAK and he needs it to be DONE WITH. one path would lead to the moon healing canis , and once he discovers this ability he probably begs and bribes ( heavily. the man is too wealthy for his own good now , and what else is he going to buy? new boots? his work just fine. ) them to start visiting the second fangs around the city to heal them in secret. he’ll do anything for their ensured safety. the other path works quite the same , only with no healing , just plants , and he’d be very dependent on this muse either way because of the miracles they’re able to work with his men. really really excited for the possibilities of plots with this skeleton. THE TOWER: a backstory plot for these muses is calling my name?? like maybe the tower and canis had a deal where the second fangs would assist them and their men on voyages and pillages for a cut of the treasure when all was said and done , back when the second fangs were fresher and poorer and in desperate need of work. and maybe one of the two betrayed the other on one of these trips , with greed for treasure or something of the like? things could be tense between them now , at each other’s throats. OR there could have never been a betrayal and they’re actually quite good friends who know a little too much about each other’s pasts , and canis offers the tower company amongst the pack knowing he’s lived through canis’s own worst nightmare. the terrifying ordeal of being known. canis could definitely trust them more than he should. this one has me really excited i won’t lie.

CHARACTER DEATH: canis would quite literally volunteer for this so that’s a big yes from me.

WRITING SAMPLE

THE SELF PARA: the tent is warm and the burn of the lamplight casts shadows across familiar faces. the second fangs. his pack, he always calls them, like they’re puppies and not vicious mercenaries. canis is most comfortable here, at ease, his usually pin straight posture relaxed despite the job he knows lays ahead of them. it’s not one he’s entirely comfortable with, an uprising in a poor village. always messy, always felt a bit like putting down a weakened calf at the farm. so they drink, to forget the day that lies ahead, the uncountable days behind. the faces. faces. faces, that echo like screams. he can’t recall who speaks first, but it was likely canis himself, always a little too bold when his body buzzed with liquid courage. “that’s not what i’m asking,” one of his men corrects with a nudge of canis’s shoulder, always aggressive with each other, a pack of wolves nipping at each other’s heels. “the death’s on your hands. but it’s meant to be a good one. worth while.” and the captain’s own eyes twinkle uncharacteristically, perhaps because his inner conscious knows what his mouth does not. that the answer lies waiting at the tip of his tongue, a snarling beast of a target. “and how much coin are we gonna get fer it?” ajax jests, but canis can see the gold flashing in front of his face, even from across the table. canis barks out a laugh, and they all bang their goblets on the table. “aye,” in unison. they know each other inside and out, they speak a language strange and foreign. a family with many moons in their pockets. how many knights can say that? “no coin,” canis finally adds. “no glory. no private dance at the brothel,” eying ren, and there’s another chorus of easy laughter, more aye’s. “one of the nobles,” lawren grunts, and at first there’s just ringing silence. a paranoia that winds it’s way through the small group. they trust each other with their lives but this .. it’s like blasphemy. it’s revolution uncurling within them, more than just a job, it’s a force awakening. lawren speaks again, gentler, louder. “undying knows they’re all pricks.” and it’s easy again, more aye’s, cups overflowing with wine and ale. but in between the laughter, he feels the wrench in his gut, the rage that threatens to flare. an allegiance of blood and blind faith -- it reminds him so much of religion that he squirms. maybe his answer lies in a job, with wicked tendrils wrapped around his neck like a leash. the dog. how wrong would it be to bite the hand that feeds you? “i’d cut off my ring fingers and swear to celibacy to be rid of the fuck all king already,” canis growls, his knuckles white where he grips tight on his cup. and it’s quiet again. when he speaks they listen, they all listen, even the highborn in the castle, like he’s a wave crashing on shore. commanding attention. demanding it. “you’re spending too much time with the clerics,” ren groans, with a face like a fox, her hair hanging limply in her face. he can’t tell if she’s smiling or frowning, but they’re nodding in agreement. all of them. “what good’s that sack of shit king, anyway?” lawren chimes in, and then it’s deafening chatter. all canis can do is listen, absorb the pain of his men, the frustration, see himself reflected in their woes. say what any outsider will about his crew, maybe they are all mutts. one mind, one body, one restless spirit. tired of being used, of being chained to a cause that tries to fill deep chasms in bleeding hearts with gold. what is the price of true freedom? “maybe the end is closer than you think, canis,” a small voice that rises above the others. a girl, mary, raised in the pack, only nearing her seventeenth summer. and she’s a legacy of everything canis has created, the family he wove with bruised and boney fingers. “we haven’t lost a battle, yet.” and she’s right, of course she’s right, whip smart and flea bitten. if there is to be a revolution, aid of the pack would be an immense advantage. it isn’t arrogance with which his men speak. it’s truth. he has to chew on the suggestion, sharp glass in his mouth with every bite, impossible to digest, but maybe with the backing of his crew .. canis has trouble seeing the future beyond a sack of coins and a full bottle of ale. he knows little of politics, even after all his withered years serving as something of a king himself. it’s overwhelming, and he thinks his whole arm shakes when he raises his goblet. “nasty fuckers,” but his teeth shine in the lamplight, like fangs. like canines. “trying to get your own captain killed.” but when they clink glasses, it feels like a deal has been made, like he owes this death to more than just the queen, like the undying herself is watching.

EXTRAS

VOICE : canis has an eclectic sort of accent , a combination of all of the people he met while living on the street , his father , the lands he’s traveled and settled into with his companies . he constantly sticks out as an outsider , no matter where he is . he doesn’t mind this sense of otherness because whenever canis goes , his family is never far . canis’s mockblog can be found HERE his pinterest can be found HERE ( blood tw )

#accepted #accepted: seven of swords

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adanicole04 · 6 years ago

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Power to the People: An Ideological Analysis

**this is a paper I wrote in college about the ideology of democracy, and tied to current culture. It’s been a couple years since this was written, but I remember this being one of my favorite projects, and I believe it’s still applicable today. Hope you enjoy! But please don’t steal it ;)

Introduction:

NBC’s Parks and Recreation character Leslie Knope is a passionate bureaucrat who personally renewed my faith in what government is supposed to be by consistently reinforcing what democracy means to her. It may be a little pathetic in retrospect that it actually took a TV show to do so, but in light of everything happening today, it seems pretty understandable. Considering approval ratings of Congress have been at a historic all-time low for several years now, it should come as no surprise that “this more negative attitude toward Congress mirrors other indicators showing that Americans are at or near record lows in their confidence in the executive and judicial branches and the federal government in general” (Connolly, 2016).

The American people are losing (if not already lost) trust in their government, and really, who can blame them? We’ve been lied to, deceived, and had our money stolen from us to be blown on government officials vacation homes while the rest of us have the worries of our basic needs to live constantly hanging over our heads. We are a people in need of reassurance; not of what our government is doing for us (because who knows if we are ever told the truth about that), but what our government was founded on: democracy.

After Donald Trump was elected president, there seemed to be enough interest as to what “Leslie Knope” would say, that an actual letter was written up in her name (by the writers of the show). There is a lengthy story about democracy, the central idea of this paper, of which I will discuss later. For now, I will start with the proclaimed point of that story.

“People are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”

Critics, like random Quora user Carl Hancock, argue that democracy should be considered a concept, and that the ideology of democracy is limited to the belief of one’s ideal form of government (Hancock, 2013). And even Merriam-Webster defines “democracy” as a form of government (Democracy). Should democracy be restricted to a concept and/or form of government?

Foss (2009) states that “an ideology is a pattern of beliefs that determines a group’s interpretations of some aspect of the world” (p. 209). Our government should be reflected on the beliefs and values our founding fathers had for America: that we are free people. By limiting “democracy” to a form of government, we eliminate the potential belief system that essentially directs our government. Using “Leslie Knope Writes Letter to America Following Donald Trump’s Victory” as my main artifact, quotes from Parks and Recreation (Parks & Rec for short) episodes, and ideological criticism, I argue that democracy is (and should be considered as) an ideology.

Foss (1989) also asserts that the goal of a rhetorical criticism is to introduce an artifact and essay that transforms the lives of the reader (p. 26). My goal for this analysis is to embody the persona of Leslie Knope herself, and inspire American citizens to engage in the idea of democracy. I know too many people who actively avoid anything political, because it’s not only an untrustworthy area, but it’s also confusing due to issues exactly like this essay: what even IS democracy? My contribution is to simplify the rhetorical foundation of what government is supposed to be to provide confidence the people should have about it.

Context and Artifact Analysis:

Parks & Rec first aired sometime in 2009 while interest in politics really sparked after the 2008 Presidential Election. President Obama based his political campaign on “hope”, creating a positive aura around Congress. The creators of Parks & Rec were inspired by this and with the success of the politically charged show The Wire to produce a comedy about an optimistic woman starting her career in politics while highlighting the general failure of local government (Weiner, 2009).

This government-loving optimist named Leslie Knope was born, and she reminded us every week why government is important, and what it stands for. She was always consistent in her views of democracy, women in government, and breakfast foods. All of the characters were impeccably cast, but Amy Poehler brought upon a certain charm and admirable trait to her love of government. Personally, I related politically more with the character Ron Swanson, a firm libertarian. However, I really loved Knope’s idea of democracy, and how often she talked about it.

For instance, when visitors from Venezuela came to Pawnee, Indiana (the fictitious location of the show) to financially help build a park, one of the men tried to trick Knope into taking their money, videotaping the donation, so they could humiliate Americans back in their country. Knope hilariously stood her ground by reinforcing her American values by telling him, “I am gonna build that park myself, and it is gonna be awesome. And it's not gonna have a fountain shaped like Hugo Chavez's head spitting water all over everyone. Unless that's what the people want. And that, sir, is democracy.”

When it came down to the recent election of Donald Trump, it was embarrassingly comforting to have that same reassurance by her. Honestly, there are more than enough quotes from the show itself to discuss, but her letter to America was classic Leslie Knope rhetoric covering a very real issue.

To make her initial point, she almost immediately began with a story. She was in fourth grade, and her teacher conducted a mock election in which two fictitious characters were presented. One character was cool, promised things like extra recess and pizza with a candy bar crust, and the other was “bookish”, and promised to take things slow to be able to evaluate the problems of the school in a careful, intentional manner.

But before they voted, one student (Greg) asked if they could nominate a third candidate. Her teacher replied, ““Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone—” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed, and before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagan-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”

Knope then went on to say, “Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.�� … The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them. It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex.”

Even in her self-proclaimed despair, she finds a way to make us laugh. More importantly, Knope reminds us the importance of having our belief system of democracy serve as the foundation to how government operations should run, even if the results don’t sway in the direction we want or intend. Regardless, “democracy only works if people get involved” (Pilot Episode) because “the whole point of democracy is decisions are made by the people, as a group” (Canvassing).

There were also a couple of episodes in Season 6 where her idea of democracy was even further defined. In New Slogan, Leslie inspires the town of Pawnee to vote for a new town slogan. Obviously, she created most of the selections, and she encouraged the people to vote for one of the slogans. Well, matters took a brief turn for the worst when the local radio DJ “the Douche” suggested a write-in option of “The Home of the Stick Up Leslie Knope’s Butt”, and it led the polls. And why was there a write-in option you may wonder? “Because every election has a write-in option. That's how democracy works. I'm not a dictator. If I we're a dictator, I would throw the Douche in prison without a trial” (New Slogan). Once again, even though sometimes it makes her hysterically angry, her ideology of democracy guides practically everything she does, and every decision she makes.

Even when her archenemy Councilman Jeremy Jamm snuck in a meeting to vote on a bill that would take away voting rights to its new citizens (there was a town merger that joined the bordering town of “Eagleton” when their government went bankrupt) right before Knope’s recall election. Councilwoman Knope interrupted the meeting to filibuster it so it couldn’t pass. During the filibuster, she found out that the new citizens supported her actions, but would not be voting in her favor. She had to weigh the options out loud, but ultimately remained true to her beliefs. She could’ve stopped in order to have a better chance in the election, but instead she declared that “the right to vote is fundamental in any democracy, and this is bigger than me or anyone” (Filibuster).

Ideological Criticism:

By using the application of ideology to democracy, we can ensure a level of consistency that is desperately needed (and currently lacking) within political actions. As opposed to the restrictions the literal translation of democracy offers, the ideology behind it ensures that the “actions and their rationale are not isolated but woven into a broader fabric of understanding, anticipation, and value” (Brock, Huglen, Klumpp, & Howell, 2005).

During my analysis of the presented artifacts, it is clear that Leslie Knope has a deeply rooted understanding of democracy that is based on the idea of “the people”; that government cannot properly or fairly operate without the input of its citizens. The element that Knope presents is that we also need people within our governmental systems to uphold those beliefs and values. We need people to encourage group participation.

Although she explicitly speaks to females near the end of her letter, she acknowledges the misogyny protruding from Trump. Because this character is also quite the feminist, it probably would’ve been easier to cover this and other artifacts using a feminism approach. However, I’ve found that her hardcore belief in democracy is the basis of her rhetoric and actions. She encompasses the power within groups by simply using the word “we”; accomplished within this letter, and pretty much everything she does on the show.

“We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it. Now find your team, and get to work.”

Democracy isn’t yet another form of government. It should be the idea behind every single decision made and action taken within the system. Political leaders and elected officials should stop and think, “Is this what the people want? AM I 100% SURE?” before signing or approving anything.

Using her anger as a tool, she encourages the beliefs behind democracy to fight the good fight in politics, and overcome this embarrassment that is our current president. When she says, “I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas,” she is literally describing her idea of democracy in classic Leslie Knope fashion. As the elected official in her town, she remains determined to improve lives through the power of the people, and through communication.

Conclusion:

Democracy shouldn’t be placed in a box, and set aside in politics. It should be the automatic default deciding factor for everything that happens in our government. Without the ideology of democracy, we have no real guide for how things are done. The values and beliefs behind it consistently point to the PEOPLE; not one person, not only elected officials. If anything, the elected officials should ONLY be acting in the wishes and demands of their citizens. No politician should have a final say in anything without the approval of the people first. Maybe that’s why our government is as screwed up as it is: because we have put democracy in a box, labeled it as a concept, and threw it in the dark and musty basement that no one ever goes in.

Politicians want us to believe that the notion behind democracy is some liberal tactic to take more of your money, and encourages welfare systems “for the good of the people”. This also discourages others to participate in government because people will blindly accept and trust that elected officials will do the right thing. Well, if there is no foundation of beliefs, morals and/or values, what (besides dirty money) is left to guide them?

Simple answer? Democracy. Myself, and others like Mrs. Knope (aka Parks & Rec writers) firmly believe that democracy is a set of beliefs grounding all political actions to be decided upon by the people. It is also the mutual understanding of myself and others like me that this can only be done through communication. Any politician has the “power” to draft a bill, and receive approval within the system, without ever reaching awareness of his or her citizens. In a fair and just democracy, that can no longer happen. Americans need to understand the true power of the people, and reconstruct our government to do the same. We are in desperate need of a government that works for us, not over us. We can only make this happen through the ideology of democracy.

#america #american #democracy #ideology #fourth of july #independence day #true democracy #parks and rec #leslie knope

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morsmordrehasbeensaved · 8 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS ASH, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS SIRIUS BLACK WITH THE FACECLAIM OF LUKE PASQUALINO!

We were really excited when you told us you were willing to reapply, Ash, and you truly blew us out of the water with your newly written biography! You nailed Sirius’ personality in our minds and we loved how he met James on the train which matches’ Kay’s biography as well - and the background on his family was just perfection. We are super excited to have you around and can’t wait to write and plot with you!

Check out our acceptance checklist right here on what to do next!

♔ Out Of Character Info ♔

Name/Alias: Ash

Age/Birthday: 14; October 17

Pronouns: she/her

Timezone and Activity: EST: 70% active; I am not available at school during the weekdays, but I am mostly here when I’m not at school

Triggers: REMOVED.

Anything Else: REMOVED.

♔ In Character Info ♔

Full Name: Sirius Black (Nickname: Padfoot)

Birthday: November 3rd

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality/Romantic Orientation: Bi

Extracurriculars: Dueling Club

Personality Traits:

postive: loyal, flirty, brave

negative: arrogant, rebellious, impulsive

Additional Info: Thank you for allowing me to reapply. I’m really interested in this roleplay group and I think it would be a wonderful thing to be apart of. I really appreciate the second chance and have worked to improve my application. Once again, I do not have any other Harry Potter content. I hope that doesn’t affect your decisions.

Biography:

Sirius Black was born into a pureblood family, who owned a luxurious home where Sirius resided during his childhood. The home was called the House of Black, the family name going all the way back to around the middle ages. Naturally, Sirius’ parents were quite proud of him when he was first born, aiming to create the perfect model child out of him. They wanted him to share the family’s views pertaining to blood purity and soon, Voldemort’s evil reign. However, Sirius quickly began to reject these ideals, even as a child. With a multitude of family members trying shove opinion after opinion into his head, it was challenging to find his own thoughts. Sirius started to believe he was meant to be evil, no matter what he thought about it. His family was like that, so why shouldn’t he? Why should he go against his parents instead of just trying to make them happy? It was all too overwhelming for him, to be stuck in a house full of others who were trying to tell him what to be. Due to these staggering feelings, he didn’t interact with the people in his house unless he had to, which allowed him more alone time for himself. During this time, Sirius was able to read and see what the outside world thought (though reading is definitely not one of his favorite activities) and began to make his own opinions. He found solace in the fact that he wasn’t alone in his ideas of equality, ideas that contrasted the ones of the rest of the Black family so greatly. He believes that no wizard is less than another. The amount of magical blood they have doesn’t matter to Sirius. As he began to express these thoughts, (slowly at first, as if he was testing the waters) his family painted him as the odd one out. His parents especially began to be extremely unsupportive of their rebellious child. They saw him as an outcast to the rest of the family. Sirius began to enter even more conflicts with his relatives. Sometimes the fights would last for hours. Eleven years of living in his complicated home took a huge toll on him, but that didn’t stop his pure excitement when he stepped on the train on September 1st, ready to make a new life at Hogwarts and hopefully not be ridiculed for everything he expressed. . Sometimes the fights would last for hours. Eleven years of living in his complicated home took a huge toll on him, but that didn’t stop his pure excitement when he stepped on the train on September 1st, ready to make a new life and Hogwarts and hopefully not be ridiculed for everything he expressed.

Almost immediately after he set off to his new life, Sirius met James Potter on the train. A boy who walked into Sirius’ cabin that seemed almost too confident and cool for his age. They immediately befriended each other, bonding over shared interests like chocolate frog cards and spells they practiced at home. They clicked extremely well, nearly conjoined at the hip from that moment on. Having his first friend brought Sirius great joy. After all those years with nobody in his corner, he finally had somebody he could trust. The train ride went by quite quickly and the boys arrived at Hogwarts along with everyone else. Sirius was almost sure the Sorting Hat would place him in Slytherin, due to him being the heir of the House of Black and all. However, to his surprise, he was sorted into the Gryffindor house instead. The hat spent a long while deciding and sensed Sirius’ desire to be different from his family. His need to not be like the people who inflicted pain onto him all throughout his childhood. This played into him being chosen for Gryffindor, adding to the fact that he posses a lot of traits that belong to the Lion House, including, of course, bravery.

After his sorting, Sirius sat down next to James, who had a wide grin spread across his face. Sitting across for them were two other boys who had just been placed in Gryffindor as well. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They began to speak to each other, discussing what it was like to get their letters and the train ride there. The other two were a lot quieter and less rowdy than James and Sirius, but the four of them still seemed to find a newfound friendship. They could all tell right away that this bond would last for years to come. Having friends that accepted him was one of Sirius’ greatest wishes at home, and he’d achieved it so effortlessly. Being apart of this group of people allowed him to learn more about different kinds of family and people, and let his loud and open personality shine in a way that it wasn’t able to when he was at home. Although, the boys sure did get into a lot of mischief, but Sirius liked it that way.

In their second year, the group began to notice Remus and how reserved he was. They realized how strange he was acting and that he was missing a multitude of classes. This concerned the three others, so they decided to investigate, eventually uncovering the truth that Remus was a werewolf. While shocked, Sirius didn’t see Remus differently for it. Remus was his good friend and he was all too familiar with being the odd one out when it came to his family. James, Sirius, and Peter wanted to look out for Remus and make him feel less alone. They also needed to cover for him during school, since he’d already missed so many classes at suspicious times. Considering all of this, the three decided to become animagi. They went through a long, grueling process to do so. Being second years, their magic just wasn’t advanced enough to complete the spell correctly. The process took three exhausting years to complete, but it was definitely worth it. The boys were very proud of how everything turned out and Remus was so glad that he wasn’t alone. Sirius’ animagi is a black dog, which is why his nickname is Padfoot. The four called themselves the Marauders and each got a nickname. [“Moony (Remus), Wormtail (Peter), Prongs (James).”] The transformation into animagi was a pivotal moment of their friendship and brought them even closer than before.

Sirius’ school years were full of fun and misbehavior. His times at Hogwarts were the best times of his life. Even with constant punishments and detentions due to their mischievous actions. Out of all the Marauders, Sirius and James were the most popular. They built up a reputation, a popular person on their bad side being Severus Snape. It was mostly James who butted heads with him, as they both liked Lily Evans, but Sirius always had his friend’s back.

Currently, he is in his seventh year at school. With it being the last year and all, Sirius desperately wants to make it count. He finally got out of his home, where his relationship with his family members has grown more and more toxic. Moving in with James and his family was a huge relief. Sirius finally doesn’t have to worry about being ridiculed for everything he does. The Potters accept him as a part of the family right away. Sirius is extremely grateful for this. He always wanted a family that supports him, but all his life he never had that. Now, he finally has it. Even though Hogwarts was an amazing relief from the people that caused him this pain, it didn’t liberate him fully. Sirius always still had to go home for Christmas and summer break, which were the worst parts of the year for him. Having a place and the Potter household means the world to Sirius. It also allows Sirius and James to spend even more time together. James is one of the most important people in his life, along with Remus and Peter. He doesn’t mind that his family blackens out his name and considers him a traitor. He’s found where he really belongs.

After moving in, seventh year begins. This year is a really important time in Sirius’ life. It’s his last year at Hogwarts and evil seems to be on the rise. With Death Eaters and supporters of Grindelwald on the rise of attack, Sirius is prepared to fight back. He’s also growing in maturity. Though he is still the wild, flirty Gryffindor that he’s been all these years, he also realizes how important this year and the rest of his life is. He’s thinking about the future now and is ready to grow and change. As well as this, during the summer between sixth and seventh year, Sirius has realized his daunting crush on Remus. Terrified of losing his friendship with Remus (another person who is very valuable to him), he overcompensates and pines by flirting with nearly every girl. (Except Lily, of course). He believes this is the best way to cover up his feelings and since he has never told anyone, it works quite well. Despite this, the Marauders continue to be inseparable and are prepared to fight alongside each other. Sirius is ready to begin this new chapter in his life and to see what this school year has in store for him.

#morsmordre accepted #sirius black #hp rp #marauders rp #skeleton rp

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ruleandruinrpg · 8 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, AJ!

You have been accepted for the role of ANASTASIA LANTSOV. Admin Rosey: Choosing Anastasia was incredibly difficult because I saw two of my favorite characteristics about her presented so flawlessly. There was the somewhat childish princess and the tender-hearted princess with steel beneath her silk. Ultimately, AJ, I had no choice but to go with your portrayal of Ravka’s heart. The detailed plot ideas were so intriguing to me -- and the seemingly effortless way you integrated her samples into everything are what sealed the deal. Dirt upon silk, and tenderness upon sorrow is what truly tugged at my heart. Thank you for this wonderful application and thank you for taking on the role of Annie. You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: AJ PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her AGE: Twenty-Four TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST & I am currently only in one other active roleplay at this time, so I will be able to give RAR the majority of my attention. I do want to give a bit of a heads up as my family is in the process of buying a new house. Our estimated closing date is June 30th, so that will be about a week of adjusting to the new house and getting WiFi setup. I will definitely keep the admins updated during that time as I do not want to disappear out of the blue. I am also going on a family vacation with my parents from June 23rd—June 26th. It is just a weekend away, but it will be right after acceptance. This is all I could think of to let you all know beforehand. TRIGGERS: OMITTED CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: Here & Here

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Anastasia Natalya Lantsov ANASTASIA — meaning reborn. NATALYA — meaning birthday. LANTSOV — meaning ruler.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

× BLESSING IN DISGUISE — There were so many characters that held such a heavy muse within my mind that begged to be explored that I panicked on who I would ultimately apply for in the end. My list continued to grow as more biographies were released, and I decided that I would attempt to place them in an order of who I wanted to explore more. The first on my list was dear, sweet Anastasia Lantsov. It was almost amusing how easily their sample came to fruition, and the way their words seemed to pour out from my fingers so quickly. Everything about them screamed a character that I have rarely played before: soft. Their softness was a characteristic that they had been forced into, but it was also a trait that they welcomed wholeheartedly. Some would call them weak, but there was something more than weakness that attached itself to me and kept bringing me back to their application. I spent several days bouncing around a few characters until I realized that every muse that I tried to dive into was being tainted by Anastasia. I found that Aleksander was a bit softer than he should be, or that Svetlana wasn’t as terrifying as I wanted her to be because Ana was forcing themself into every characterization that brought my muse away from theirs. Up until them, I was constantly finding my muse and taste drawn to the characters that were more flawed than them; almost always looking for which path to take for either redemption or further damnation. For Ana, there is absolutely nothing that I could find that screamed a flawed character outside of their inability to speak of what needs to be done for those less than themself. This is the ultimate reasoning behind my attachment and draws to their character, and I hope to convey that through the rest of their application.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?:

× THE TRUTH UNVEILED —

Part One. I have to be honest that it was quite easy to come up with this future plot because it is an inevitable fate for Anastasia to be caught during one of their trips to the village. However, the way it happens is very important to me because it could have two very contrasting results. Every little detail of this would have to be thought out thoroughly because the timing, the person, or even the location could be what shifts the outcome one way or the other. For timing, I simply mean what is currently going on in the kingdom when they are caught sneaking to the village. Is there a peace in the country that would guarantee them that suspicions wouldn’t arise, or are there rumors of a rebellion that could cause questioning as to why they are out so late? While the location is not the biggest factor in this revelation for someone to figure out the princess’ secret, it could be the one that gives them the chance to keep it. If they are caught while standing in the middle of the village in the clothes of their cousin, it is pretty obvious that there would be no convincing someone that what they are doing isn’t exactly how it seems. The difference in location would be if they were simply on their way to the village and were caught up in the garden by someone. There are plenty of stories that could save them from the truth spewing out. The most important factor to me in this future plot is the person that unveils what Anastasia has been up to. I want this to be someone that deserves to figure out the secret and actually want to do something about it. Yes, there could be one person that finds out and hovers the secret over their head, but I desperately want the opportunity for them to find someone, whose heart beats for the country as their own. This potential development with another character is not only crucial for Anastasia, but it is absolutely necessary if they want to make a change. Part Two. Further expanding this idea for Anastasia, it would be fascinating to explore what Nikolai did in the canon verse by changing his appearance to hide his true identity. I imagine this would be the case if the tension in the kingdom grew to a point that traveling as herself in and out would be risking her life. In this new disguise, she would be able to fully grasp what many in the village already call her as ( The Shattered Mirror headcanon ) and take on a new life at night. As someone that enjoys increasing the angst within certain plots, it would be an interesting shift if Anastasia were to be caught in some type of attack or confrontation within the village that trapped her there. This would be a very intense moment that would have so much more opportunity if Anastasia were to get hurt by the hand of someone close to her, perhaps Viktor? Maybe he was the one to strike her down when she fought to protect an innocent villager. This type of development would only further my idea that Anastasia’s heart is far too large to belong solely to her, and that is why she so often gives it to those that rarely get noticed.

× THE LIFE DESIRED —

They are more than a single person; they are the heart that beats beneath the chest of their country. They feel devastation upon those less than them while many turn up their nose and look elsewhere. For Anastasia, the life they desire for their people is a life that they cannot give on their own. There are things that must be done to bring the starvation that most within Ravka suffer from, and it is their sole purpose to line everything up in order to conquer it. No one deserves to be less than another; all life should be held at the same value. This is what makes the princess such a bright mind that deserves the attention often given to them, and that is what they will use in their favor. Any that dare listen to their pleas for change, if anyone should step forward to become their saving grace, are likely to get their heart in return. This is what makes this future plot so valuable for Anastasia’s development through the roleplay. Everything they have done has been to see change, and it would be upon discovering they alone cannot heal the wounds that cut deep into their country that will ignite them to look elsewhere. I want Anastasia to start a campaign in favor of those less than. I want them more than anything to find the power to stand up for what should be done. The revelation that their family does not feel the same way as them is so vital to what happens next, and it would be a privilege to explore the opportunity of the princess finding someone else that shares the same feelings as their own.

× THE LIFE LIVED —

As Anastasia is fighting for those that deserve more, there comes a time when they need to face the prejudice that they are living among on a daily basis. The split is far too obvious to go unnoticed, and the princess of all people has proven to be one that sees everything. I imagine that there would be a shift in their own heart to mend the gap between those at the Little Palace and their own. It might be small at first by simply walking a different way to get the chance to come across a few Grisha and sparking a conversation. It could build on these small moments where they befriend one wholeheartedly, who then introduces them to more. This type of outreach will not settle well for those that do not believe the Grisha are worthy of being considered equal so it would be even more fun to find Anastasia on the negative end of someone’s opinion as that seems to be a rarity within their biography. Everyone seems to be so caught up in the princess that it would even take them by surprise to find that they are no longer fighting a singular battle for just villagers, but they are beginning to fight a secondary one for the Grisha as well.

× THE TOUCH OF POWER —

Explanation: For this headcanon, I wrote out a small blurb of what it would be like if Anastasia were granted the chance to be a human amplifier in-game. There is such a purity to her that would add to the roleplay as an opposing force against the Darkling’s own ability to amplify other Grisha. Within her biography, there were hints of how she could become a catalyst to the tradition of the kingdom, and it would only add to her layers and desire to change the country if she were to be one herself. Blurb: There are glimpses of it as she passes them, a quick feeling of connection that she’s never felt before. The way her eyes light up when she’s surrounded by them makes it almost nerve-wracking, to say the least. It took her by surprise the first time the rush came over her; a need to break the barriers and reach out for a single touch. She has contemplated what it would be like to actually be allowed to hold a genuine conversation with one of them; to grow close enough with a Grisha to touch them. That’s when it happens — Very slowly, she finds herself mapping out when and where she will be. The Sun Summoner has become a blessing to this country, and Anastasia says just the right things to her brother to make it obvious that the two should meet. The interaction is odd, almost too forced to be able to convey how much she admires the other, and when all hope is almost lost, she learns the summoner’s name to be Gemma Pavlova. An introduction that results in an exchange of a formal bow, but she needs something else; a simple handshake. Everyone in the room is caught off guard when Anastasia steps forward to stop the bow; all eyes falling on the pair. That’s when they connect — that’s when they know. It was the type of connection that many have whispered about when it came to the Darkling. The way he could touch another and expand the reaches of their power immediately, and for a princess that was painted to be in a cage, she held this exact same connection as he.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: × YES — When it comes to Anastasia’s potential death, I imagine it would be sacrificial in a way as they have already displayed how desperately they want the best for their country and everyone within it. If this is something that does come up, I would love a quick message to let me know the plans to give me a chance to bring this character to close on my end as well: threads, current plots, etc.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

× SAMPLE ONE—

Silk laid in a pile of waste in the midst of chaos as hands pulled and poked at the mess that came in the form of Anastasia Lantsov. It had been another late night of wandering about the kingdom with dirt caked beneath nails that belonged to even dirtier hands. Her smile was frozen to reflect the vision of a princess Ravka desired, yet if they were to look hard enough, it would seem the uplifted corners held a sadness to them that only those closest to her would be able to spot. The corners of her lips trembling to allow real emotion to flood through, but she kept face for those within the room as no one could know the truth of what she had been up to.

Although questions still poured in, Anastasia had already laid out the perfect story hours before they had even returned with a tale painted of a trapped bird singing out for help at a late hour that they couldn’t recall. They reached up to pull a small twig that had managed to weave itself into their hair as proof before tossing it to the floor.

“The poor thing was singing out as if it knew I would come for it,” they said with a heavy breath that had so much weight within it that the entire room stopped moving to listen to their words. “Wouldn’t you have went out to save it? I searched for hours within the garden, falling to my knees more than once to look beneath every bush. If it wasn’t for that last, little chirp, I would have returned this morning empty handed without that poor thing as proof of my rescue.” In this moment, the attention left them to fall towards a bird that rested in the midst of a makeshift nest, which sat directly on the princess’ bed as if they hadn’t even spared a thought for the dirt smearing against the finest sheets the kingdom had.

Adoration soon poured from the mouths of all those within the room to praise the princess for her actions as no one could blame her for rescuing such a helpless creature. It was only when they had finished scrubbing the dirt away and returning her to a state that made her presentable to the kingdom, that they gave her the first moments of solace and privacy. The painted picture of a trapped bird was so well-constructed that she was impressed with how well she was getting at lying. She hated to label what she just did as that, but it was true as the real story did not come close to what she had done the night before.

“You are a kind creature to give me such an opportunity to lie,” she spoke to the bird like a friend as it looked at her with a tilt of its head. She had made a home for the bird and its family months prior and began planning out stories for why she would return to the castle in a heap of a mess. The bird was one of many that she had laid out for her use, and she almost hated how lies were the only way she would be able to help those that truly needed it. “I will return you to your family late this evening as I would hate to raise suspicion when you are supposed to be healing.”

Soon, their attention was pulled to the sight of their left hand as fingers caught against the start of a callous that would never be present on a princess. They never had to work for what they had, and the existence of a callous alone would be enough to cause some suspicions to stir. A quick drop of lotion upon it would have to do for now as they had too much to do before they would be called down for breakfast.

What their advisors did not realize is that just beneath the skirt of their bed hid the truth; Anastasia lifted it to reveal an extensive collection of food and garments for those on the other side of the gate. They quickly did a count to see what they would need to restock before they returned, taking note of the need for more bread and blankets. The skirt of the bed had just hit the floor when a soft rhythmic knock sounded against her door as the delicate voice of Darya poured in through the crack. “Time for breakfast, Annie.”

Her eyes scoped the room for anything out of place before presenting herself at the door to greet the other with a gentle hug that surpassed the formal exchanges some would expect between the two of them. Friendship had always been a constant for both ladies as Anastasia could barely remember a time before there was Darya in her life. The sweet exchange of secrets beneath poorly made forts and laughter that broke the bounds of closed doors was just the beginning of what made Anastasia and Darya so tightly woven together

“You were not too busy, were you? I can go pick us up something if you would prefer to wait here.” Her hands reached forward to reassure the other that she was fine to go before closing the door behind them. The two walked in a ritualistic silence until they were out of the quarters and in open halls that allowed their words to go unnoticed. Her fingers gently played with Darya’s forearm as they wrapped themselves together when they made their way to breakfast every morning ( at least every breakfast Anastasia attended ).

“Have you met her yet,” Anastasia asked to be the first to break their silence, intently watching Darya’s face transform the moment the question left their lips. A hope seemed to emerge through the smallest of gestures as the somber expression dissolved into nothing to show a glimpse of the other’s smile. The girl almost too eager to share her own thoughts about the Sun Summoner left Ana with the idea that much was to be learned.

“Yes—I mean, no. She is marvelous, though; even from a distance. Everything that we have prayed for has come to be. You should get Anton to introduce you. I am sure he would not mind,” Darya spoke softly with her own fingers tickling the inside of Ana’s arm before looking at them again. “I swear, to the Saints above, she seems to light up an entire room the second she walks into it.” She squeezed a bit too hard against their arm at her last statement before continuing on. “She reminds me of you—a little. There is not much known of her before, but the way she silences a room by just walking into it; awe-inspiring really.”

Anastasia gave her best attempt of a kind elbow into her friend’s side before casting her eyes forward. “You seem to be quite impressed with the Sun Summoner,” she added with thin-narrowed eyes casting momentarily to Darya. “It almost makes me think you are contemplating a replacement on my behalf. Am I to fear I will walk into the ballroom to find you have become quite cozy with her?” She counted to three very slowly to give her friend the impression that her concerns were to be taken seriously before finally allowing a laugh to break through. “You have to learn to take a joke every so often, Darya. Not everything that is said is to be considered true. You should know that.”

The conversation would have likely gone on longer if their mother had not stepped into view to pull Anastasia’s attention away from her friend. It was a single look, but that is all it took to refocus her attention on what life was like now. Laughter was supposed to be scarce after such a loss, but with Darya, there were small moments where she forgot the pain that rested in her heart. The gesture from her mother caused a single squeeze into Darya’s arm, smiling towards her friend before lightly stroking the back of her hand. “I must go now, but — Darya, a single request. Please do not get flagged as a danger to the Sun Summoner. I would hate to have to explain your infatuation to my mother.”

× SAMPLE TWO —

Hands clasped tightly behind their back as they walk through the gardens with little inclination of where they were truly going. They simply needed an escape from the crowd that was becoming a bit too over stimulating for them this evening. Every party was a bit too over stimulating for them if they were, to be honest. It was the gardens that provided the momentary escapes that gave them a second breath to survive the rest of the evening.

Anastasia wished desperately to walk the gardens alone, but they knew this would not be granted to them as a presence had already been noted several moments prior. The other person trying their best to keep within the shadows when the princess would take their next turn, creating a game that was no longer fun for them. They would have waited until the next turn if the person behind them had not so recklessly stepped across old leaves to give a hard crunch in the silence of the gardens.

“How impolite to follow someone with no intention of speaking to them— ” Anastasia said with a hard glance over her shoulder to meet the gaze of Maksim Kaev. “—especially someone who knows better.” She extended her hand out to stroke the few lilacs that were within reach, regretting the words she had spoken. Her lips parted to say more, erase her mistake before he had a moment to address it, but he was already beside her with hands stroking the same flowers as she.

“Do you not count the weight of observation as something worthy, Princess Lantsov?” The way Maksim stood behind them made their skin crawl with a feeling they could not place, but it was enough to cause them to continue on their path. “How does one hold a conversation with someone that mimics the pattern of a hummingbird? You flutter from one flower to the next, and I find it almost taunting the way you so suddenly leave right before I have the chance to speak.”

Every step Anastasia took, Maksim doubled to continually bring himself closer to them until they were walking in sync with his strides slowly to keep pace with theirs. Everything he had said was true of them that they hardly stayed in place long enough to get passed the usual conversations. No one ever could hold onto them long enough to get into the deeper levels of who they were.

“Maybe it is you who is at fault here,” Anastasia said with the tips of her fingers still brushing against the flowers on the path before pulling her hand back, if only for a moment to rest her outstretched arm. “What have you done to hold my attention as long as you wish, Maksim?” Her steps paused as two paths in the gardens came to a cross, taking the moment to give the lieutenant the attention he so desired. “Why am I the one to blame when you have done nothing to attract my attention until now? It is you, not I, that should be questioning their actions.”

Anastasia stood in the lantern-lit crossing with no sign of which path they would take next, bouncing on their toes to diminish the uneasiness Maksim seemed to give them. As much as they wished to point him back to the Grand Palace, there was a part of them that wished to know the reasoning behind his pursuit of them. Curls casting shadows upon their face until the slightest movement from Maksim captured their attention.

“You are right—” Maksim’s word were cut short as her hand lifted to silence him, surprising even herself as she gazed up at the Grand Palace, where music poured from the open doors that led into the ballroom. Within the gardens, there was a granted privacy that allowed for titles to be stripped away and connections made that would have otherwise been overlooked. This privacy would also give Maksim exactly what he wanted, in terms of reaching the deeper levels of Anastasia.

“Only a fool admits his mistakes,” Anastasia said with amusement casting over the corners of their mouth before his own hand silenced them in the same fashion as they had done.

“Or a man who is not afraid of them.” Maksim’s confidence had gone unnoticed to the princess with a charm weaved within it. He soon locked eyes with her and made no attempt to look away; instead, he brought himself closer to her with a hand extending out before a rustling from up the path caused him to stop abruptly. She wanted to ask what he had planned to do at the end of those steps, but this would be another mystery to add to their dynamic.

“Princess Lantsov, your mother is requesting your presence,” said a guard that came into view a few short seconds later. Desperately, Anastasia wished to stay just long enough to reveal what actions would have soon followed, but she reluctantly gave Maksim a nod as some symbol of a goodbye. She soon began back towards the palace until fingers caught her own, bringing her attention back to the lieutenant who pulled her hand to his lips.

“Until our next encounter, Princess.” His lips burned as they ghosted over her skin, and he slowly released her fingers, watching her; an assumption made as she could still feel his eyes on her, even with her back to him. For such a short encounter, she felt as if he had unraveled her in a way that no one else before had, and it was both enchanting and terrifying to think how easily he did so.

The rest of the evening was filled with brief conversations on topics that were more impersonal than anything else, and it wasn’t until she had made her way back to her quarters that she realized that she had missed him a bit. Not in the way that she wished to seek him out, but it was more of a realization that he had made her want every conversation to have meaning. She missed being sought out in a way that wasn’t solely connected with her title, and it was once she finally closed her eyes that she floated back to the gardens to dream of the what ifs; what if the guard had never come? What if.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

× THE SHATTERED MIRROR —

It was never supposed to be her destiny to break from her cage and explore the world just on the other side of the bars. Mistakes are defined by being wrong or misguided, and for a few hours after her return from the village, she whispered the word repeatedly to herself until it felt wrong within itself. It was a mistake to call her own actions as such, and it was a quick glance in the mirror with the worn fabric still cast over her head that she saw herself for the first time as someone she wanted to be. She began to feel a discomfort when lace was thrust upon her skin as the luxuries she was born into no longer held the same meaning. Her meals were soon portioned to mimic those of the villagers; her own gluttony being denied. She no longer felt the envy that would rise when another lady at court had something she didn’t, and it was during this transition that someone else was born within her. It was soul-shattering to find that luxury was never her calling, but the struggles of others in the village so close to her. As much as she wished to lash out, she knew that to do so would severe her chance of ever returning to the place that felt more like home than her own. But what had she connected with so desperately within the village that differed than the palace? It was a question that swirled around her thoughts often as she contemplated bringing up her adventures with each of her brothers, but she couldn’t find the right words that expressed the deep passion that she found within the villagers that many lacked at court. Though they suffered, the villagers still were alive. They were still fighting for another day, and it became suffocatingly clear that everyone at court was simply going through the motions. It was a slow realization that she wanted to live as though each day was one scattered event after another with no schedule to fall into. One morning she would wake up far past her usual time with breakfast skipped and feet bare from the heels she often adorned to experience life in a different way. The pattern becoming a signature for those close to Anastasia as they anticipated which version of her they would come across. As if pulling a slip from a hat, her days were small adventures for the princess that so very few experienced. This went on for weeks until it still left her bare of the feelings the village gave her all of those late nights. Yes, she was experiencing life in a different light, but she still had everything she ever wanted. The gifts that were now piling in the corners of her room were looked at with disgust, and ideas of what to do with them seemed to always fall short until a chance meeting with a merchant in the village set her up for a chance to become someone she wasn’t. She could become a patron within the village, though for only a short night every other week, but she decided then that the gifts she had been given were also hers to give away. This is when ‘the Bearer’ was slowly a name she began to know as her own as her identity to those that she began to save could never truly be known. As the Bearer, the gifts of luxury that were given to her by those within her family were sent off for trading in other cities that were returned for goods that were given freely to those in the village. Each time she brought another gift was a promise that food, blankets, whatever the villagers need would come soon. It was finally then that she realized that within the village there was a need for her. There was a genuine appreciation of her presence that the palace had never given her previously. There, in the midst of the village with mud caking her boots and hands reaching out for what she could give, is where she finally found her purpose.

× THE PACE OF GRACE —

It is common knowledge for those within the Grand Palace that catching the princess long enough to hold a steady conversation is a rarity. Her pace around the grounds mimicking a casual sprint than planned steps that someone in her position should take. Time has been something she has never taken for granted, and it shows more now with the way the ribbons of her dress are always dancing behind her. Most mock her inability to stay still for a moment, but her argument is valid that ‘remaining complacent too long increases the risk of missing something’. Those words falling from her lips far too often lately to be overlooked by those in her life. She has made it a mission of sorts for her to make people appreciate the time they have been granted and make the most of the moments they have. This was never a realistic goal for her before life became a shade darker after Ivan’s death. His death hallowed her heart so severely that for days there was no sight of her around the grounds. Many at court found the princess’ heart to be admirable at times, but it was upon the death of the crown prince that they began to call it weak. They whispered about how naive she must have been to think life was infinite. Viktor was the first to push through the walls she had built around her to create a refuge within his arms, but they still felt out of place as Ivan had been the one that often escorted her back to her room when he was at the Grand Palace. He was the one that held her just right way to let her know that she was more than she had thought. The loss of someone that gives you meaning in a single touch is one that will shatter you if you let it. It was a week of daily visits from Viktor that finally pulled her from the walls of her room and took her out into the palace. She would have died in that room if another week had gone by as the frailty of her existence was beginning to disappear until she became nothing more than a painting on the wall. For Viktor to becoming her saving grace, she felt a tinge of anger once she realized that life was still moving forward. Ivan’s name rarely being spoken to those in the castle now, and Anton’s name being thrown left and right as her skin itched to run away from it all. Running away is just what she did — Anastasia ran for hours until her problems fell from her shoulders, and a fire ignited within herself to live the days for two. The real reason that she runs everywhere is that though she lives sporadically from one thing to the next if someone looked close enough at what she did, they would find that she is truly living the life her brother had. She goes from enjoying a walk in the garden to reading hours in the library like Ivan once had. Her heart no longer aches because she feels him within it, and it is a life that she feels is worthy to live.

× THE NEED FOR MORE —

Though her required classes and training ended several years back, Anastasia has taken it upon herself to continue her education within the Grand Palace. Her mother is quite proud of her daughter’s love for the books that rarely go touched and records that hardly get reviewed. The world has an infinite amount of knowledge to be absorbed, and it quenches some hunger within the princess to be the consumer of what Ravka has to offer in that area. There are plenty of people in the palace, whose sole duty is to know and learn, but it is a task that has never been granted to someone within the royal family. Therefore, she has the itch to become more than she is and be someone that holds the answer to everyone’s questions. Her desire to be able to walk in the midst of a political discussion and contribute in a way that will not get her looks of amusement, but looks of respect. To be in her position, she has found a way to contribute to those outside of the palace gates, but there is still the struggle to connect to those that have shared such a huge amount of her life thus far. Therefore, the books that have often been stacked around her in the late nights when she allowed herself to not sneak off to the village were books that were often read by Ivan. She knew that her brother’s position had already been replaced by Anton, but there was still so much of him already forgotten that it has broken her even more than she realized. Her brother’s opinion had been lost upon his death, and she desperately wanted to keep it alive anyway she could. Now that she has accepted his death and has moved forward in the only way she knows how, her love for the books once read by her brother has grown tremendously, which in turn has matured her as well. Not a moment before Ivan’s death would she have found herself interested in the history of Ravka’s military, but there is a familiarity with the words in the books and the ones often said by her brother.

× THE UNFORGIVING TRUTH —

There is this fear that has implanted itself within her that the world would easily move on without notice if she fell behind. It is likely that this came from the death of Ivan, but it had been there much longer than she would like to admit. She has been the porcelain doll on display for the royal family, and there has been little notice of her outside of this role. It is likely that her silent rebellion in the form of helping those just on the other side of the palace gates came from this fear. However, as much as she likes to label it as a fear, it is a daunting truth that she holds little weight when it comes to the country. She is supposed to be the one that holds conversations with those who her family wishes to avoid and cast a smile on those that are undeserving. This weighted truth that bears such a pain in her chest is the source of her outcry for change, and it could ultimately be her downfall in the end. That is why she remains silent to bring up her own actions to those closest to her as she already knows where everyone else around her thinks.

× THE THORNED CROWN —

It was a moment that caused a wave of sorrow to fall over the kingdom that shook the foundation that their feet rested upon. There was never a moment they wished to escape more than this, but to hear the actual words of their brother’s death were more paralyzing than they could have prepared for. Deaths are expected to come at the end of one’s life; when decades have passed and age wears the body down. Death is not supposed to come when so much life is left to live, and this is what hurts Anastasia the most. They are forced to watch another brother take the crown as his own, forcibly taking on a task that was never meant to be his. This is when they realize that the crown is not a gift, but an iron clasp that takes away everything that you had before it was placed upon your head. Anastasia is the first to begin calling it a ‘thorned crown’ to Anton as even they can see the weight of it pushing him down. The two were never close, but there is a duty to be there for a sibling when they need it most. That is why they now take it upon themself to do what they can to take small burdens from Anton and pick the smallest of thorns from the crown he now wears.

× THE GIFT OF LIFE —

Of all the small boxes that had been laid upon their bed with soft ribbons wrapped around them, it was an irregular box that peaked their interest immediately with Viktor* almost spewing too much anticipation to give them to open it themself. It had been his way of helping them heal in this process of such a hard loss for the family, and they admired his attempt to keep their lips in a constant upright fashion. They almost wished they could request the gifts to stop coming, but there was money to be made by such gifts and villagers to survive off of the trade to come. This one was something different, something odd like themself. Small fingers pulled at the ribbon until a chirp from within brightened their face in a way that gave off a soft glow if you looked hard enough. They couldn’t reveal it fast enough, but once they did, the bird seemed to welcome itself into their room as if it had always belonged. Of all the gifts to be given, they had never thought of something so small as a bird could fill such a large place in their heart, and now they have found it to be all the company they need when waves of grief come crashing in. * the person that gave Anastasia the bird can be changed.

× THE STACK OF LIES — ( touched upon in the first sample )

The secrets that had been piling up in Anastasia’s lap were ones that needed to be kept until the hearts of everyone around them changed. Allowing themself long enough to think of their nightly adventures to the village only caused further inclination that they were far from over. Several attempts were made to make sure that they at least tried to stop going to the village in ways of exhausting themself to the point of crashing once they made it back to their room at night, but a jolt of energy would rise within them and push them from the very sheets they laid. A small hidden box beneath their bed would soon be pulled to reveal the clothes taken from their cousin and list of stories to be told if they were caught going or returning. It had been a game to them to try to create different scenarios that would require them to leave their room for any reason. The list that once only contained a handful of excuses was now filled from left to right of ink-spilled lies that they would tell in a heartbeat if it was required of them to protect what they were doing. This is something almost enchanting about the princess is that their mind should be far more credited for what it can do.

× THE QUICK HEADCANONS —

One. Anastasia has such a deep love for the gardens of the castle that she has taken far too many trips through it to keep count. She knows where every flower lies and areas that can conceal her long enough for a bit of privacy. This love only grew further as the years passed, and she was allowed to explore the idea of becoming a botanist, outside of her duties as a princess.

EXTRAS: PLAYLIST ( Here ) // GRAPHICS ( Here ) // MOCKBLOG ( Here ) — I will be working on the mock blog until the submit closes!

ANYTHING ELSE?: OMITTED.

#raraccepted #accepted: anastasia

3 notes · View notes

hogwartselementumrp · 8 years ago

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Hyacinth, congratulations, you have been accepted for your OC Rhys Llewellyn. In finding a lone wolf Logan Lerman FC with a “tragic backstory” in one’s inbox, an admin must brace themselves--if you’ll forgive the frankness and not find the joke rude--but we honestly found your writing style so engaging and your passion for the character so ready to shine through with a bio that felt not at all rushed despite knowing you were racing the clock, and shone through with promise of what you would be like to RP with. Admin Beth may have offered to physically fight Admin Lily (we’re tired, stressed people and these things happen), though in the end there was no need for such measures and we agree together to accept you. We can’t wait to see you develop him into a character that shines as an individual and grows a three dimensional life of his own that continues the potential set in the application. Get him on the dash because I am eager to interact with him.

Side Note: We already have a character named Rhys that has been a part of the RP for over three years. Now, people share names in real life and even in this RP Lily once wrote two vastly different Lawrences, Lawrence Yeaun and Lawrence Frisk. Both are played and played marvelously and seldom is there confusion, but if sharing a name makes you uncomfortable or you are worried about the confusion of players, we want to give you the chance to change the name or to have him go by Llewellyn. You are in no way obligated, but it might help everyone out.

Now, I have written a longer acceptance note than Lily. Welcome to the RP!

NAME/ALIAS: Hyacinth

PREFERRED PRONOUN: She/her

AGE: 19

TIMEZONE: GMT-4

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Around an 8-9 out of 10.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP (NEW MEMBERS): through a google search

ORIGINAL CHARACTER INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Rhys River Llewellyn

Face Claim: Logan Lerman

Now, please check our dorm page! To see which house is needing a character and in which year!

School Functions (check Quidditch availability’s): Healer Program

Why do you believe this will be a good character in this specific roleplay?

Just a few months prior to the roleplay, Rhys experienced a very drastic, devastating tragedy in his life. It will be really interesting exploring his headspace after that occurrence, and the relationships he will create because of what happened to him. Rhys is at a very delicate, confusing point in his life. His previous religious faith, which was fairly constant, is now gone. He is now estranged from his father, attending a new school, and discovering his own sexuality. I believe he will be able to discover who he truly is, or at least begin to, and in turn, help others do so as well.

RHYS LLEWELLYN is 18 years old, in his FIRST year HOGWARTS UNIVERSITY and was in the house of RAVENCLAW.

❝The weight of the world / is love / Under the burden / of solitude, / under the burden / of dissatisfaction / the weight, / the weight we carry / is love

↳ MAGIC

Rhys was gifted with a very sharp mind and wisdom far beyond his years. This didn’t translate very perfectly into magic, as even the mere thought of it had never entered his mind, but he studied extremely hard in his years at Hogwarts. Naturally, he wasn’t particularly gifted, but his hard work and determination put him at the top of his class. His instinctive curiosity and eagerness to learn things also gave him an extra edge over his classmates. As for his elemental magic, he far preferred spells and charms. They were easier to master through studying and practice, easier to control. Even so, Rhys saw his elemental magic as a challenge he had yet conquer, and devoted his time to improving it. Rhys was almost predestined to be a healer. His selflessness and instinctive compassion for others led him to apply for the Healer Program, which he was confident he would excel in.

↳ BACKSTORY

Rhys Llewellyn and his twin sister, Eve, were born on the first day of June in a small town of Wales, with the sun shining brightly overhead and not a single cloud in the blue sky. They’d been born a full month early, after hours and hours of painful labor. And when their mother, Adelaide, held her two pink, squalling babies in her arms, she placed a kiss on the tops of their heads and whispered an apology. For she could not stay, and two days after the two babies had entered this world, Adelaide hurried away into the night, leaving her children with nothing but a broken father and a long-forgotten memory of a gentle kiss that would be the only one they would ever receive from their first home.

It is surprising that Rhys and Eve grew up fairly undamaged. Their father, Jonathan, was a fierce, Evangelical pastor, forever trying to find an explanation for his loss in a higher power. Jonathan had only two loves in his life: His wife, who’d left him, and God. And after she left him, it seemed like he needed to fill up that empty hole with all the love he could ever contain into God, leaving nothing for his two children.

Rhys and Eve grew up relying on only each other for the necessities of life that went further than food and shelter. It is no wonder the two siblings grew very close. But despite the fact that they spent nearly all of their time together, they could not be more different. Eve was loud and outgoing, intent in her beliefs and unafraid to voice them to the world. There was an overly-flamboyant, almost frantic way about her, as if she started up an act of someone she was not long ago and now had to over exaggerate herself or risk being found out. Yet around Rhys, she could be the loud, confident self she was in public but also the more sensitive side that she typically kept hidden for fear of getting herself hurt. The two twins were like day and night. Rhys was mellower, far preferring anonymity and his own company over others. He was very intelligent and introspective and preferred to mull things over before doing anything, unlike Eve, who rarely planned for anything and preferred to live life spontaneously. But when they were with each other, they were better versions of themselves.

With Eve, Rhys felt like he could do anything and not be afraid.

When Rhys was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was anything but delighted. How was he to face a school, a magic school, without his twin sister? But Eve was adamant he should go; she knew Rhys was something special. There were times when certain things happened around Rhys, odd things, and in her opinion the idea that he was a wizard was not something particularly far-fetched. She, like many others, had the overwhelming sense sometimes that Rhys was different. Otherworldly. Perhaps it was his intelligence, or his compassion for others, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the poetry he loved so much. So, to be perfectly honest, Eve was not very surprised at all. She would have been more shocked if it turned out Rhys was just ordinary.

His father, of course, was furious at the mere thought of his son going to learn witchcraft. It was a terrible sin, something one would be condemned to hell for, a type of satanic worship.

But Rhys, who rarely objected anything his father said, went anyway, and when he came back from his first year at Hogwarts, he was met with a stony silence from his father and a tight-lipped smile from Eve, her voice the one she used with other people, not him. And, year after year, Rhys found that he heard her real voice less and less, until it disappeared entirely.

Over his seven years at Hogwarts, Rhys didn’t exactly feel the automatic acceptance he’d assumed he would. In turns out, even at a magical school, he was odd and out of place. Preferring to study and read and write poetry than attend quidditch matches and explore Hogsmeade, he never really made any lasting friendships. But it was no real issue for him, as he often preferred his own company over others.

The summer before he was to attend his first year at Hogwarts University, Rhys’ life fell completely apart. Ten days after their shared birthday, Rhys found his sister dead in her closet. She’d hung herself, leaving no other explanation except for an ‘I’m sorry’ scrawled on a torn piece of notebook paper.

In the aftermath, Rhys could not stay. Guilt and fear and anger and blame and all-consuming grief was everywhere in the house, everywhere in his father, everywhere in his own heart. It was heavy with a blackness he was unused to. He could not stay. So, like his mother, like his sister, he left.

And in leaving the house, he left his father, and in leaving his father, he left everything he had ever known, and in doing so, he freed himself.

↳ PERSONALITY TRAITS

» {+ positives} creative, selfless, insightful

» {- negatives} shy, anxious/worrisome, distracted

↳ BASICS

» BLOOD STATUS: half-blood

» ELEMENTAL POWER: air

» AFFINITY LEVEL: average affinity | very studious

» DATE OF BIRTH: July 1st

» WAND: willow, dragon heartstring, 10 inches, supple flexibility

» FACECLAIM: Logan Lerman

RHYS LLEWLLYN IS PLAYED BY HYACINTH

It wasn’t like his father preached all the time about how Rhys was an abomination that would be sent straight to hell. But it happened often enough that he decided it would be safest if he just kept silent about the whole being-attracted-to-boys debacle. Keeping it from his father was second nature - it wasn’t like Rhys actually told him anything. But with Eve, it was practically impossible. In fact, he wasn’t really sure why he wasn’t telling her about this part of him. Maybe it was because he barely understood it himself.

Or maybe it was because he wished it weren’t true. Rhys wished he could say that he wasn’t at all ashamed with who he was. It it were Eve, she would be attending pride parades everyday and kissing whomever she wanted in front of their father, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to say anything. If it were Eve, she wouldn’t be ashamed at all because she knew there was nothing to be ashamed about.

Rhys knew, too. But he wasn’t as brave as she was. He was scared. Of his father, of a God he barely believed in, of himself and the truth.

Because there was this boy at Hogwarts, a boy with a sunshine grin and endless jokes, a boy that Rhys kissed, but would have liked it much better if his mind wasn’t screaming sin sin sin sin sin.

He wanted to kiss him again, but shame swallowed him like an ocean for weeks after he did it the first time, and Rhys didn’t particularly enjoy drowning.

He kissed a girl, too, once. Before he’d kissed the boy, back when he was still unsure. In the Hogwarts Library, his back against the hard wood of the bookcase marking the Legal Section. Their lips smashed together, too urgent and unsynchronized. Rhys hated the way their faces fit together, the lack of strong jaw and vague stubble to ground him. There was too much hair to wade through, too much peony filling his nostrils. His mind wasn’t telling him he was sinning, but instead pounded a crescendoing chorus of this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong.

Rhys had home come from his Sixth Year at Hogwarts, having kissed two people that were both sins in his mind. The boy because the Bible said so and the girl because it’d felt inherently wrong when it happened. And his father had looked down at him, his head tilted and eyes narrowed as if he’d sensed something on Rhys that was even dirtier than witchcraft. But nothing had been said, and he breathed a desperate sigh of relief.

He was hiding, and that was bad, and that did not make him happy. He knew all these things. But he was also scared. And he also loved his father, despite everything. In the end, the only thing that counted was love, was it not?

#accepted

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alvarezcharles · 5 years ago

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My Husbands Ex Wants Him Back

#How To Get Back At A Cheating Ex Girlfriend Awesome Cool Tips #How To Get Your Ex Back In 30 Days

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