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tsikuri · 5 years

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HPHM character profile.

I was tagged by the lovely @cptaincarswell like a week ago but I have been soooo busy, I don’t even have time to die x’D Thank you so much, darling! <3

And now I tag @slytherincursebreaker @annevmoreira & @electricslytherindog

General Information

Name: Raine Ferreira Casterwill.

Age: 16.

Gender: female.

Nicknames: Rai. Just Jacob, Ms Rosmerta & Jae call her like that.

Date of Birth: December 23rd. I don’t want to get confused so I used mine:’)

Astrological/Zodiac Sign: Capricorn.

Ethnicity: Latin. I guess (?)

Nationality: Mexican/British.

Species: witch.

Blood Type: O+

Blood Status: half-blood

Family

Father- Roberto Ferreira Arellano.

Mexican muggle.

Architect.

He met Raine’s mom during a holiday in his city.

Finds out about magic a few months after being dating Juniper.

After his divorce, he comes back to México to continue his life over there. Juniper & he had a big fight about if Raine should stay in England or go back to México with him

He does everything he can to be in touch with Raine.

Magic still freak him out a little bit.

He is really affected because of Jacob disappearance that’s one of the reasons why he wanted to bring Raine with him to México.

Mother- Juniper Casterwill.

Comes from a Ravenclaw family.

Her mom was a student in Beuxbautauns

Has two younger brothers

She becomes a historian and her specialty is the investigation of antique buildings

She met Raine’s dad during a trip to México. She was there because she wanted to practice her spanish and do an investigation about the buildings over there.

A year after her divorce, she was attacked by death eaters she was pretty shaken up about it so she came back to her parents’ house to live with them and she takes care of their magical book shop.

Older brother- Jacob Ferreira Casterwill

Half-blood Ravenclaw.

Was a really kind and adorable kid but the search of the Cursed Vaults changed him

Really good in a broom but he does not like quidditch.

Current status: disappeared.

I don’t want to put a lot of headcanons because I don’t want to get disappointed.

Affiliation(s)/Organization(s)

Slytherin

The Casterwill Family

Some underground duel arena with a cool name. (This one is after graduating Hogwarts).

Occupation(s) and a little bit about her future:

After graduating from Hogwarts she practically disappears and becomes a bounty hunter. That’s how she discovers the illegal duel arena where she spent almost two years of her life.

When that period of her life is over she cames back to México and starts studying college to become an architect like her dad.

Sometimes she assists some curse-breaker investigations because she is just that good.

Conclusion, she is an architect!

Magical Characteristic.

Form of Boggart:

Before the vaults: Jacob being evil and with the dark mark.

After the vaults: she being a killer because that means that her inner battle with her demons was lost.

Form of Patronus: A hummingbird

Form of Riddikulus:

Before the vaults: Jacob & his bad jokes was everything she needed

After the vaults: She definitely does not know how to handle that.

What do they see in the Mirror of Erised?: she can’t explain what she sees but she has a feeling of interior peace.

Wand(s):

Length: 28.5 centimeters.

Wood: Ebony wood

Core: dragon heartstring

Time using it: since the fifth year (I probably will change it but idk when)

Animagus: Crowned wood-nymph hummingbird. Raine does not use her ability really much because she is not registered in the Magisterium. Sometimes she even forgets about it.

Amortentia:

What she smells: her mom’s perfume, Jacob’s shampoo & her dad’s house.

What she smells to others: chocolate-mint, fresh air & rain. (Hahaha Raine smells like rain)

Appearance

Height: 1.53 mts

Weight: 56 kg

Complexion (skin tone/conditions):

Light neutral skin. She is pale for a Mexican but she is tanned for a British.

Skin problems caused by stress and anxiety.

Her hands are normally full of little scratches.

Raine has good cicatrization so normally she does not have any scars after a fight (HAHAHAHAHA…Not for so long).

Hair Color/Style:

Wavy brown hair. Normally combed with a claw hair clip so it looks like a ponytail.

In the fifth year, there was an accident involving Andre practising colovaria and Billingsley trying to cast a Patronus. She wakes up in the infirmary two hours later with blue hair.

Eye Color: light brown eyes. In the sunlight, they look like gold.

Hogwarts Information

Worst Class(es):

Herbology: she likes plants but from the distance.

Potions: she HATES POTIONS. Raine does not like mixing animal parts between other things. She almost fainting in class is really normal.

Flight: Raine wasn’t that bad but she definitely was under the average. Being friends with Charlie & Andre helped her a lot to improve in her flying.

Best Class(es):

Charms & DADA. You can say natural talent or her desperate necessity to not get killed in her search for the vaults.

Transfiguration. She found this class really interesting, some charms are really boring for her but it is a class that she enjoys a lot.

Least Favourite Teacher(s):

Binns. He could definitely do the class more exciting.

Snape. She does not hate him, but he hates his commentaries to her work. That kinda inspires her to be better at potions (even if that means to throw up).

Rackepick. It’s a love-hate relationship. Kinda “I think you are cool but I can’t trust you!”

Favourite Teacher(s):

Flitwick. She loves how she can talk with him not necessarily about the classes but also about how is she feeling in the school and how he supportive he is when Raine ask him about some spells.

McGonagall. Raine loves McGonnagall. That’s all. Is like her hero.

Again, Rackepick. The fact that she betrays her it does not mean that Raine did not enjoy her classes and all she learnt from her.

Quidditch:

Raine is not that good in a broom. So she does not play it.

She goes to matches as long Andre or Charlie are playing because she likes to support her Friends.

Even if she is bad at quidditch she knows a lot about the sport, even she is surprised by that.

Favourite spell(s):

Depulso

Orchideous

Reparo

Diffindo

Trivia (random facts about them, future job, face claim, theme song, etc.):

Some songs for her: Friendly Reminder, Come Alive, Sweet Despair & Let Me Know.

Raine is the first Slytherin in a family full of Ravenclaws.

Has three younger cousins but they didn’t go to Hogwarts with her. And after what happened they probably sent them to Beauxbatons Academy.

She also takes the class of Arithmancy. Raine always liked numbers so instead of a class, she sees it as a hobby.

Raine could have been a dragonologist in Rumania just like Charlie. But for that times everything was a mess in her life so she rejected the offer.

Charlie & Dumbledore tried to recruit her to the Order of the Phoenix, but she rejected them. She still had a lot of resentment to Dumbledore and the magical world, she was trying to create a new life in the muggle world.

No less, she fought in the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998.

Diego, Talbott & Jae are the reason why she decides to take control of her life again.

BILL DID NOT INVITE HER TO HIS WEDDING. It was Fleur fault, and she found out about the wedding just a day before so she assisted to it, BUT ANYWAYS.

In her dark time, she learnt the three Unforgivable Curses.

After finishing college she spent most of her adulthood working on México. Years later she came back to England.

Raine is a really good singer and enjoys a lot go to karaokes and thing like that.

She does have a muggle friend who finds out about the magical world by accident (Raine & he were drunk).

Two times at year McGonagall ask her to Hogwarts just to check that nobody is messing with the cursed vaults and that everything is in order. And every time she goes there McGonnagall try to convince her to become a DADA professor and the head of Slytherin house but Raine always refuses.

Until that time when she was investigating the vaults and twelve kids appear from nothing saying that they are her sons & daughters.

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sheewolf85 · 6 years

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Writing Challenge – Day 33

Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP just found out they’re pregnant. Now imagine them coming up with a creative way to tell Person B. Bonus if Person B misunderstands hilariously. Pair: SpicyHoney Rating: M Tags/Warnings: language, mpreg, skelepreg, I don’t think this counts as kinkshaming, but there’s a misunderstanding involving kinks, Edge might be kind of an idiot, anxiety over a misunderstanding, internal fears NSFW/SFW – mostly? Notes: I’m only rating this an M because of the kink in the misunderstanding. I’m not sure if PG-13 would be more appropriate, but I guess I’d rather rate higher than lower than necessary. AO3 Link

Stretch stared down at his pelvis for a long moment, unable to believe what he was seeing. At first, he’d thought he missed a spot showering that morning, but when he’d looked closer…well, that wasn’t spent magic. He’d poked at it gently, curiously. It was strangely spongy. Inside the tiny, orange orb, he could see an even tinier soul glowing white.

It was a womb. He was pregnant.

He sucked in a deep breath and let the initial wave of panic ride over him. He and Edge had never talked about having kids. Edge was very particular in his life plan, and this would throw a kink those plans. The money they’d managed to raise for that vacation Edge had talked about for two years now—all of it would have to be used to get ready for the baby. They’d need to get a bigger place. They’d need to buy shit.

He gave himself five minutes. Five minutes to panic and feel overwhelmed and scared. After those five minutes passed, he straightened his spine, wiped his face, and forced himself to think about this logically.

Pushing his own emotions aside, he asked himself if Edge would really be upset. No. Edge was a master at adjusting to shit life threw at him. He would understand that Stretch hadn’t done this on purpose, and together they would figure out what to do.

And maybe for the first few months, Stretch could work extra to make up for the money they’d be using out of the vacation fund. Maybe they could still do that before the baby came. It was a long shot, but Stretch wouldn’t give up hope.

After he’d managed to calm himself down and stay calmed for a while, he told himself it was time to think about how he was going to tell Edge. A part of him wanted to just get it over with and face the consequences, but another part of him wanted to drop cute hints until Edge figured it out. The one outcome Stretch wanted to avoid at all costs was the one where Edge didn’t think he was happy about this. Because he really was. He’d thought about kids before, but never really felt it was time to bring it up.

He thought of an idea and smiled to himself. It would be perfect. Part puzzle, part confession, part hopeful plea to be happy about this. With that thought, he finished dressing and went to get started.

Edge eyed Stretch carefully. Something was off. He couldn’t put a phalanx on it, but something was different with his boyfriend. He didn’t like it. He had thought if something was wrong, Stretch would talk to him. Instead of talking, Stretch was acting like nothing was amiss at all.

Stretch noticed the way Edge was looking at him. He wanted to say that everything was fine, but he knew once he opened that conversation it wouldn’t stop until Stretch confessed. He hoped Edge would hold off on confronting him until after dinner, because then Stretch could put his plan in place. He had tried to act normal, but in doing so had overcompensated and raised Edge’s hackles even more.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Edge finally asked as they sat down for dinner.

Stretch figured it was a miracle he’d gotten this close. Instead of making Edge wait any longer, he got up.

“i have something i need to show you. stay here.” He left to get the bag from the closet. It was a pink and green gift bag with no words or hints on the outside. He set it down on the table in front of Edge’s plate.

Edge furrowed his brow bones. “WHAT IS THIS?” He eyed it like it was going to attack him.

Stretch smiled. “it’s the answer you’re looking for.” He leaned forward on the table, resting on his elbows, and waited for Edge’s curiosity to get the better of him.

Edge looked his boyfriend over carefully. Nothing in his face or his stance showed any kind of malice or trickery. Perhaps a bit of excitement and worry, but nothing bad.

“ALRIGHT, ASSHOLE; I’LL BITE.” Food forgotten, he picked up the gift bag and pulled out a handful of pink and white tissue paper. Inside was a card and a small, wrapped box. He set the tissue paper aside and pulled out the card. Eyeing Stretch the whole time, he opened the card. The front of it was white with three words printed in bold letters:

Happy Father’s Day

Edge raised a brow bone and opened the card. Stretch had written, “i love you, daddy” on the inside in his messy scrawl. Edge coughed.

“UM…” He wasn’t sure how to feel about this.

Stretch waited semi-patiently for Edge to open the box. He did slowly, picking the tape off carefully instead of ripping it open. Inside was a dark blue pacifier with a skull and crossbones on the front. Edge picked it up and looked it over, his chest roiling with discomfort as he contemplated what Stretch was trying to tell him.

Stretch bounced his leg impatiently, waiting for any sign that Edge was going to be happy about this. He couldn’t let himself believe that Edge was disgusted, and yet that was what his face was showing.

“so…?” Stretch prodded. He leaned forward again, this time pushing down a wave of panic. Edge’s face hadn’t changed.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THIS,” Edge said, setting the pacifier down. “ALTHOUGH I’M NOT SURE I APPRECIATE THE GIFT. I THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER TO TALK ABOUT THIS BEFOREHAND.”

Stretch felt his soul fall to the ground. He swallowed and looked down at his plate. He should have just told Edge. He shouldn’t have tried to make it cute. Edge was from a world that didn’t appreciate cute. He should have known better, dammit! He took a deep breath and told himself not to panic. Everything was going to be okay, one way or another. He loved Edge, and he knew Edge loved him back. They’d figure something out.

Edge watched as Stretch all but fell apart beside him. He felt bad, but he wasn’t going to lie about his feelings just to appease someone else. That was asking for trouble in the long run. He reached out and placed a hand on Stretch’s arm.

“LET’S EAT, AND THEN WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS, OKAY?”

Stretch nodded. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to eat much, but he tried. He felt sick. He couldn’t help but think of the worst possible scenarios, one after another running through his head and making him nauseous. Edge could ask him to get rid of it. Edge could leave him. Edge could…

“HEY, BREATHE.”

He flinched and looked at Edge, realizing that he was breathing erratically. Edge stood up and took Stretch’s hands, guiding him up and leading him to the couch. They sat side by side, and Edge didn’t let go of his hands.

“THIS OBVIOUSLY MEANS MORE TO YOU THAN I REALIZED. I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU, STRETCH, BUT I’M NOT SURE I’M COMFORTABLE WITH THIS. CAN YOU TELL ME WHY YOU WANT…THAT?”

Stretch tried to calm down. He wasn’t sure how. How was he going to explain to Edge that he wanted to keep the baby? If Edge wasn’t comfortable being a parent, they were going to have to either compromise or split up, and Stretch wasn’t okay with either of those options.

“i never thought about it before, but this morning…it was there, and i…i don’t know, edge.” He shook his head and leaned into Edge’s side.

Edge was thoroughly confused. “WHAT ABOUT THIS MORNING MADE YOU WANT TO CALL ME DADDY?”

Something clicked in Stretch’s mind. He realized at that moment that they were having two very different conversations. He suddenly understood why Edge would be uncomfortable. He couldn’t help it. He pulled back and burst into laughter. Relief tore through him at the same time as the absurdity of the situation. Edge thought the gift was him proposing a new kink!

Edge watched with hesitation as Stretch lost his shit next to him. It took several minutes for him to calm down enough to say coherent words.

“oh…oh my stars…hahaha!” he took a few breaths and leaned in to kiss Edge. “i love you, even if you are an idiot sometimes.”

Edge bristled. “LISTEN, FUCKFACE, I’M NOT THE ONE—”

Stretch waved him off, shaking his head. “no, no…see, i don’t want to call you daddy. not like that. but, you are a daddy.”

“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?”

Stretch leaned back, lifting his shirt and pulling the front of his pants down just far enough to expose the tiny womb nestled above his pelvis. “i’m pregnant, asshat.”

Edge sat still for several long moments, staring at the evidence of their offspring. Before Stretch had any time to get worried again, Edge’s face broke out into a wide smile. He pulled Stretch onto his lap and kissed him hard, one hand going down to very gently touch the womb.

“I’M A FATHER?”

“yep.” Together, they watched Edge’s fingers trace the outside of the baby bump. He leaned into Edge’s shoulder. “are you okay with this?”

Edge nodded reverently. “IT’S NOT SOMETHING I THOUGHT WOULD EVER HAPPEN FOR ME. WHERE I’M FROM…CHILDREN ARE ONLY ALLOWED FOR CERTAIN COUPLES CHOSEN AND PROTECTED BY THE KING. AS CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD, I WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ALLOWED…” He trailed off, turning his attention back to the baby. “SOMETIMES I HAVE TO REMIND MYSELF THAT I’M NOT THERE ANYMORE. I’M HERE WITH YOU, AND I’M ALLOWED TO HAVE THINGS LIKE THIS.”

Stretch nuzzled Edge’s jaw. “i really love you.”

Edge turned his head to kiss Stretch deeply, pouring every ounce of love and devotion he felt into it.

#my writing #39-Day Writing Challenge #spicyhoney #skelepreg #mpreg #misunderstandings #anxiety over misunderstandings #edge can be a bit of an idiot sometimes #daddy kink mentioned #not an actual kink in here tho

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franeridart · 7 years

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are you going to draw more of that lovely erasermic? :o

Unless I find reasons to stop shipping them in the near future, then sure~ as I said, I really like that ship

Anon said:i love it when you draw chris and josh, you should do it more!! Your oc's are great!!

THANK YOU! I’m really really happy to hear you like them! I draw them just as much as I wish to, tho haha

Anon said:THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US WITH MORE CHRIS!!

Anon said:Honestly I love your ocs so much! I like seeing your fanart because you really flesh out characters we don't get enough development of, but I really love seeing your ocs. I can tell you love them and enjoy drawing them just by looking at it, and that makes me love them even more! You're a wonderful artist!

SOB thank you!!!!! holy heck!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;O; I can’t believe how much love my kids get hahaha I’m so so grateful aaahhhh!!!!

Anon said:Okay, so I was just going to tell you how great your comic is (and it is), but I just read your last ask to that anon, and I'm sorry, but deku didn't do nothing to gain his quirk? Like, what? He risked his life and almost killed himself trying to say his exfriend/then bully? That isn't just "being nice"? He didn't know all Might would save him? He risked his life even though he was powerless just to help another person? He earned the quirk, all Might said so in the second episode, like, what?

Since you don’t seem to want a polite and civil exchange of opinions on this, and are actually being incredibly rude here (whether you meant for it or not, I don’t know) I hope you won’t mind me keeping this as short as I can. All Might worked in the beginning of the bnha manga as a textbook definition of a deus ex machina, came around, solved an otherwise unsolvable plot point out of the blue bending the laws that had just been established for that universe, and Deku literally (literally) didn’t have to go through any conscious trial, soul-search or any other self-aware journey with the intention of fixing his own problem. All he did was to be heroic and to be quirkless, which for him are circumstances since those are innate traits of his character. And the only singular thing he has is that he’s quirkless, his heroic personality is shared by all of UA (Mina acted in the exact same way in Kirishima’s backstory as he did to save Bakugou, didn’t get any cool op powers out of it)

All Might was supposed to give OfA to Mirio, the literal most heroic character in bnha, a boy who had been working his ass off to become a proper hero since he was a child, but instead he found a quirkless kid and decided that he deserved a chance to become a hero too. I’m not saying that’s not true, or that Deku didn’t deserve it. I’m saying that he didn’t actively or consciously do anything to gain that power. He simply acted in a way true to his self, and that was it.

I’m gonna have to make present to you that the next time I get an ask with that tone in my inbox I’m blocking you without answering. I’m not here to be called an idiot by the first random stranger I find online, if you want a conversation with me all I’m asking is for you to be polite, that’s not too much at all in my opinion.

Anon said:Your last BakuShima comic was so cute!!! AAAAA!! 💖

Thank you!!! I’m super happy you liked it!!!!!! :O

Anon said:I love you. So much right now. Can I give you a virtual hug because I swear

I dunno what I did to deserve this but SURE *holds u back*

Anon said:do you think you'd ever sell any minajirou merch? (maybe like the one with the flower background) because if you do i would buy 20 (not literally but,, i think you get the point) Sorry if this sounds annoying or anything! im just curious

Not annoying at all!!! If I remember right the one I posted was a bit small tho, I’ll have to see if I can work with the size in a way that would fit the default redbubble dimensions... if I can’t I’ll be sure to make the next one big enough to fit, tho!!!! And thank you for wanting to buy my stuff!!!!! :O

Anon said:I'M NOT THAT ANON BUT I CAN HELP W MOMOJIROUS & yes we totally agree they're fuckin gay and canon there's no doubts here. SO anyway I at least see them liking in each other exactly what you said- they have what the other lacks (or thinks they do), and still find the other to understand them and be interested in them in every sense of the word, also tol and beauty and smol and cute are def the first thoughts about each other, damn maybe I should have thought about word limit I need more space

Awwww anon I thank you for trying to explain to me why they work!!! But that’s not the problem I have with it at all haha I understand the ship on a superficial level perfectly, that’s why I ship it! I just can’t seem to find myself in the relationship anywhere, so empathizing with it comes harder than it does when it’s MinaJirou haha

Anon said:you draw kirishima's eyes so pretty I can't look away from them

THANK YOU Kirishima’s eyes are super pretty in canon, I’m so so happy I can portray that in my style well enough!!!!! :O

Anon said:Ok, sorry for going through ur hq!! tag sjeow, oh gosh I love ur art and ur art style and I love the way I draw the boys !!!! Aaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!! Thank u for blessing my night!!!! I hope something makes ur day the way going through ur art *cough* again *cough* made my day!!! (Also a question: what's ur second fave ship from hq!! after bokuroo?? )

MATSUHANA :O and thank you so so so so much for liking my stuff!!!!!!! I hope you’re having a great day today too, anon!!!

Anon said:I love you Fran, but I completely disagree with what you told the last anon about the idea behind bnha. You had me with the positivity concept, and I would also love it if eri could fix mirio and nighteye, but the rest of that was just so far off to me; and probably for many other fans in this community. Like, first, a story does not have to be the level of snk or dgray man to have bad things happen. That is how all story telling has been since the beginning of time.

A good narrative story is never straight sunshine and happiness throughout, even if it doesn't involve death. People don't just enjoy the bad things that happen in a story because it's realistic or because it's sad, they enjoy it because that is how a story and it's characters grow. They make mistakes and learn from them; these moments help the characters change and pushes them forward through every new obstacle.

It helps drive them and gives their stories/actions/ideals meaning and gives the audience a reason to care. And that is where I wonder if we are even reading the same story, because this concept is shown throughout the entirety of bnha. It is no where near the "positive-to-a-naive-point" you seem to believe it is. The story starts off with a weak, defenseless deku being beaten by his once best friend?

Like, I really don't want to sound condescending, but I don't understand how you could come to this conclusion. Bakugou has an inferiority complex from hell and suffers constantly from his own inner turmoil, todoroki has an an abusive father with a horrid childhood, iida's brother/idol was paralyzed and almost killed, shigaraki unknowingly killed his parents as a child, toshinori may still be alive, but all might (the hero) is gone to the world forever,

eri was used and experimented on HER ENTIRE LIFE, believing she was a disease to the world and could only cause suffering. I could go on for pages about the suffering these characters have ALREADY gone through- but that is okay, because the story is better for it. Because we as an audience wouldn't have cared nearly as much for deku's gain of one-for-all, if it wasn't for the trials and turmoil he faced his whole life living as a quirkless child;

Bnha is a positive story, but it does not rely solely on positivity to get by. It is a story about determination; to push back against adversity, to go on even in the face of the unknown or impossible; even if fate itself is against you. It's about climbing your mountains and beyond that, dare I say, beyond plus ultra. It's is not trying to adhere to its genre, it's is trying to be everything the genre could be and more, and as succeeded thus far.

Which is why I can understand the disappointment from the last anon, because solving everything through friendship and "hand holding" has become a norm in this genre specifically- and bnha is anything but quick and easy ways out.

Sorry if this is long, and I really hope you don't take this as an attack against you or your opinion. If that is all bnha is to you, and if that is how you perceive the show, who am I to say you are wrong. But I hope you understand what I have said at least, because you still are a huge inspiration to me as an artist and in this community. Hope the rest of your day goes alright.

Alright, first off, if you don’t want to come off as condescending try and maybe don’t be condescending. I’m nearly sure you didn’t do this consciously, considering how you ended the rant, but going “are we even reading the same story” when you supposedly want a civil exchange of opinions is the worst thing you could do ever. You pretty much said “I don’t wanna disregard your opinion but here is a list of reason why you’re wrong and I’m right”, please next time you mean to keep it civil try and avoid that, because that sounds just as bad as you’d assume.

Second, I thank you for the recap of all the tragic backstories bnha gave us, but my answer was about conclusions to arcs, not beginnings. I literally never once said that bnha is a happy-go-lucky story from start to end, I only said it made an habit of reaching for the best possible conclusion it could ever go for by the end of every arc up until now.

“The story starts off with a weak, defenseless deku being beaten by his once best friend”, sure (aside from the “once best friend”, Deku and Bakugou were never friends to begin with, please do reread the second Kacchan vs Deku for Bakugou’s view on their relationship) that’s how the story starts, and it ends with Deku with the strongest quirk on the planet, mentored by his childhood hero, with a civil and friendly rivalry with his childhood bully, on his way to become the number one hero, happy and loved and respected. “”Bakugou has an inferiority complex from hell and suffers constantly from his own inner turmoil” again, sure, and he could have given in to it and become a villain or let his terrible personality just become worse and worse, every single bad thing happened to him could have made him closer to a bad guy or given him good reasons to go against the heroes, and instead he’s working to become better, is loved and cherished, has friends that will build him up and care for him and risk their lives for him, and is actually in a way healthier place than he was in the beginning. “Todoroki has an an abusive father with a horrid childhood” SURE and now he’s got his mother back, he’s learnt to be the bigger person and put distance between himself and his father to instead use him to reach his own goals, is happy and has friends and, again, he’s supported and loved and is in a way happier place than he was in the beginning. “Toshinori may still be alive, but all might (the hero) is gone to the world forever” yes, and in any other manga the reveal would have brought a whole damn lot of drama and people calling him a fraud and turning against him, but instead that scene is the most heartwarming one in the whole manga, the whole world supporting and loving him and yelling his name to cheer him on

I could go on, but I think I made it pretty clear? Every single arc, be it a character arc or a story arc, starts tragic to end up with the most positive outcome you can have for it. There isn’t one arc that has had a tragic conclusion yet. So is it really that weird for me to think it’s believable and not surprising at all that Eri’s story, for however tragic it might have started as, could also have a happy ending? That this manga never tried to present itself as one in which things can and will turn out for the worse?

I’m not even sure exactly what your incredibly long ask was about, man. What were you trying to prove to me? Which part of the answer I gave were you trying to disprove? You just went on about how sad everyone was at the beginning of the manga as if that proved somehow that Horikoshi isn’t actively working to give everyone the happiest future they could have.

A recap of my answer is: “I personally don’t mind Eri having a fix-it quirk because it fits well in Nighteye’s plot and falls perfectly in line with how every other arc has turned out for the best up until now”

And you came at me with an eight asks long rant that can be summed up in “you’re wrong because people in the beginning of the story were sad”

Listen. I’m always open to conversations about different opinions and takes on a story. But, again, I’m gonna need you to be polite about it and open to an equal exchange. Simply going at the end “I hope you won’t feel attacked” and “have a nice day” isn’t enough if for the rest of the rant you talked to me as if you were assuming I’m an idiot. And I’m actually gonna need you to properly read my answers before trying to follow up with them, next time. Please. I don’t have the time to rephrase my answers sixty times just because people keep answering without actually reading them.

#fran answers #i'm sorry about the tone of a couple of the answers i gave in this #being talked down on is one of the things that make it harder for me to remember im trying to be as polite as i can get #but well #that's the last time anyway #this is an art blog after all #i didn't make it to have this sort of arguments #we'll just stick to the doodles from now on shall we (=u=)#anonymous

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foxcroft-rpg-blog · 7 years

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Congratulations, Kathryn! Wow, your application just made Neil feel so real. Reading it over, I felt like I was there with Neil, Adam and Willa. I felt like Neil was someone I knew. You built on his character in a way that just made sense, and you have a great grasp of potential plots for him. I’m so excited to see you write more for him.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Kathryn

Age: 19

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Time zone: GMT

Activity: so I’ll be active pretty much all the time until the 18th April, when I go back to uni and activity would go down somewhat (until I come back in early June). it’s an intense term even for Oxford because I have exams at the end of May/start of June, but I feel like I would still be able to see to replies before then - writing would be a really nice study break too, so I’d be dedicated to keeping on track of those! I might struggle to keep up OOC though.

Anything else?: nothing from me! :)

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Neil Monroe

Date of birth:

30th October Mischief Night. That’s what they celebrate on his birthday, and not without bitterness does he see how apt that is. Scorpio sun, Pisces moon. ‘You have a charismatic presence and a lot of willpower, but there are periods when you simply want to get out of the world. You may experience depression and mood swings. You are able to take on the feel of your surroundings. You comprehend things others are unable to. You are tuned-in, aware, and have an ability to sense things. You know innately the difference between right or wrong and no one ever has to tell you.” (x)

How long have they been in Foxcroft:

Neil has lived in Foxcroft all his life, except for the couple of nights he spent in the cheap motel at the edge of the purple cornfield one town over, when he decided that twelve was old enough to emancipate himself from his mother. Same house, same peeling paint, same scorched and sick-stained carpet. The poor end of town, at the fringe of swamp and suburbia, where the smells of the marsh are ripe and tang and the windows are always fogged up and the only cars that pass by are joyrides. Broken porch swing out front, blackened panels left charred from when his dad tried to set their house on fire. Home sweet home. (He’s been more accustomed to sofas over the last few years: Hazel’s living room, when her parents allowed it, or her bed, playing with her curls, with his palms all scraped from the tree he’d climb to get in when they didn’t. Willa’s window seat, a couple of nights a week, his legs folded up at awkward angles and the wind-chimes outside tinkling him awake. Adam’s guest room, once his parents moved out and the manor was theirs, playing golf indoors and never drawing back the curtains, losing all sense of time and liking it that way. Adam’s bed, a lot of the time, especially after Hazel died. Shivering even though it was warm there, shaking and trying to cry quietly, only settling down once he felt his friend’s arms around him. That bed was cold, now. There was no room for him there.)

Sexuality:

I’m going to go with bisexual. I think he consciously feels mostly attracted to girls, but just through writing that last answer I also feel like, whether he’s acknowledged it or not, he and Adam were a bit more intimate than friends usually are: nothing articulated, always just silent gestures, moments… maybe just because of the grief, they thought, but still. Take the vibe of lazy, day-drunk Sundays, skipping school together to go skinny dipping in the swamp, climbing into the Sweetwater Church organ loft at midnight, throwing stones up at Willa’s window and getting chased off by her father, collapsing under a lamppost in fits of giggles. The odd sloppy drunken kiss, fingertips on the other’s cheek, but none of it is real, right? Just warm. Like holding onto each other on the worst nights, when the buzz wears off and they remember what they’ve lost.

FC change: n/a

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

I don’t think I could write about Neil’s personality as if it were a constant: grief brings out different traits, so it’s best to start before all the tragedy. Growing up, Neil was the classic case of the smart kid whose potential was extinguished by his bad background, only Foxcroft didn’t have that inspirational teacher who saw through his tardiness, his falling asleep in class, the coffee-ring and ash-stained sheets he wrote his homework on. But Neil was always very sharp, shrewd, perceptive: he would look at someone and understand them, or at least invent their character in his head. He knew how to read people and how to act around them, depending on the amount of liquor on their breath or whether there was a glass within their arm’s reach ripe for the throwing.

He used that skill, that insight, whenever he was asking for change, or pleading with Mr Rivers down the street to pay him to mow the lawn that he’d only just come round to mow two days before. He was the son of a depressive alcoholic mother and a father who snapped one day selling insurance over the phone, drove his car into a school bus and died in jail two years later. His self-reliance, then, was another strength, one which he cast off like an old coat the moment he found friends who held out their hands for him to hold – now that those hands are stiff and cold and dead, he needs to rediscover that self-reliance, but he’s struggling.

Besides the shrewd intelligence, the self-reliance, and the daring pluck that allowed him to steal, Neil’s other strength was perhaps most integral to his survival: his capacity to imagine, to dream, to conjure, to escape. His ghost stories were always the most chilling, his jokes the most elaborate, his impressions of late-night talk show hosts (his mother, passed out by ten o’clock, never sent him to bed) the most biting. He’d hidden his father’s guitar in the airing cupboard so that his mother couldn’t pawn it, and had played it so much since that he no longer thought of his dad when he touched the frets. There was something almost magnetic about Neil, when he was at his best: endearing, riddling, infuriating and charming.

He was far from the plucky urchin who enjoyed unbridled freedom, though, and from an early age suffered from a distrust of all authority which manifested in insolence: shrugging off the principal’s threats to contact his mother, flipping a middle finger at the police officers he ran away from. Leaving town every few weeks, only coming back when his legs shook from the hunger, not heaven, that he’d found on the open road. Not allowing many near, until Willa, and even then taking a long time to open up and reveal his hand. Worse were the bouts of melancholy, the hopelessness, the desperation he’d feel, the emptiness that a night around a fire with his friends and a bottle of whiskey could only fill temporarily. His moodiness, the unpredictable nature of his intense emotions: getting worked up over a harmless joke, overly defensive over the pettiest thing. Hazel had been the balm to that, the constant that he could cling to when he was caught in the tempests, and when she died the tempests died with her, and he was left with only the flat, mute, empty sea. Somehow, his friends found, that was worse: he’d lost his vigour, his spark.

Now, with Adam gone too, he’s lost everything. He can’t remember what’s real and what he’s imagined, and some days he doesn’t even know if he’s real himself. He’s quiet and his eyes are red-rimmed, ringed with dark circles. He spends a lot of time at the banks of the swamp, daring himself to walk in there and not walk back out again. He wonders whether they walked in, noble and courageous to the last, or if they were pushed. He wonders whether he was the one that pushed them.

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft?

oh lol he was totally fine about it :) next question? ha hahaha ah aha haha no okay

What happens to the moon when the sun dies? After all, the moon’s only light is a reflection of the sun it chases. A sunny yellow bicycle, reported missing. She was found, drowned. She was drowned in the swamp. Somebody drowned her in the swamp and he lost all sense of taste for weeks after. His tongue was powerless when it wasn’t wrapping around her name, trying to think of a joke, a line, a sweet nothing to whisper. Whispers. Nobody spoke to him at a normal volume anymore, everything a murmur, a pigeon-coo. Even quieter whispers, too, whispers under their breath, he looks terrible, broken, hollow. Hollow. The tree-hollow they’d kept love-notes in, the trunk beneath it they’d carved their initials into after a picnic at the creek. He’d been carved out when she died, a whole chunk of him skinned off and buried with her. His friends had hidden his pocket knife and Adam had visited him every morning with coffee for breakfast. They didn’t drink, or talk. But he’d started to heal after a while. His smile wasn’t the same, his wit not as biting, but he moved his lips and opened his mouth and gave it all a try, anyway, even if just to appease Willa. The three of them stood at the edge of the earth together, one missing, but three still left to look over the precipice like the four always had. Their howls into the night were more like bleated cries, now, their knees skinnier and their eyes duller, but still they howled.

Then he woke up one night and Adam was dead. Adam was dead. He asked the police officer to repeat herself, he was dreaming. He was dreaming and Adam was dead. You know this already, don’t you, because we think you killed him. Adam is dead and you did it, didn’t you? He was the one you’d been holding onto, after Hazel, but maybe you held too tightly or maybe you were high but now he’s low, low down in the soil because he’s dead and you killed him. He’s been dead for two months and where have you been? Where have you been, son? Your mother is on a drip in the county hospital, they pumped the liquor out of her stomach and she’s just about hanging on. That’s where she is, but where have you been? Your buddy and your girlfriend have ended up in the dirt you come from, but where have you been? How do you not know? How do you not remember? Do you remember killing Adam Foxcroft? Don’t raise your voice at us. We have the right to restrain you. Has he suffered a mental break? We can’t hold him on this, it’s not enough. We have to let him go. One last thing, then. One more question. Did you kill Hazel, too?

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them.

Although Neil grew up in the southern end of town, where the nearby swamps bred misfits and the shared stench fostered a sort of camaraderie of outcasts, he didn’t feel like he belonged there. Nor did he belong to the suburbs, or the business district of the town centre, even though the latter was where he spent most of his time once his dad had been put away and his mom had put herself away with drink. The early days of begging and busking he’d done had garnered him a nickname among the proprietors in town: Oliver Twist, said affectionately at first with a fistful of dollars, but as the years went on it wasn’t so cute, and Oliver became a menace, a loiterer, a dirty-faced criminal.

He saw right through the churchgoers: the same people who would turn their noses up at his rotting shoes and moth-eaten sweaters as he lay on a bench on a Saturday night and looked at the stars with glassy eyes would all fall into rank Sunday morning and preach about saving the poor. He had little love for the long arm of the law, too, though thankfully his legs were longer, and they carried him out of that arm’s reach most of the time. He has even less love for the Foxcroft P.D. now, as he finds himself trapped in their web, jostled into a corner like a stray dog, about to be administered a fatal shot. They’ve finally got Monroe, they think, and they’re relishing it.

The other good people of Foxcroft are pleased too, he knows, as they watch him walk into the station with their beady eyes and mutter about time behind their papers. Even the good kids, the ones he never understood, the ones who might’ve liked him if they’d given him a chance, if they’d heard his jokes or let him sing them a song; even they want to see him gone. He’d tried to run away even before all of this, skipping to the next town over with a PB&J wrapped in newspaper in his pocket, not even through with puberty but already aware that there was no room for him in Foxcroft. The tragedy was, though, that in those nights in the cornfield Neil came to understand that there was no room for him anywhere: people of his ilk had two options, and his parents had shown him as much. Be locked up in jail, or lock yourself away inside. He knows which one the town and its people want for him, but when he sits on the hill and looks up at the moon with silent silver tears on his cheeks, all he wants is to be free.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate.

I guess the first thing to address is the gaping hole in Neil’s memory. He knows that the lapse started on the night of the eclipse, but he doesn’t yet understand its significance: for now, the eclipse just equals the last time he saw his best friend alive. He has no idea what could’ve led him to forget two months’ worth of his life: the police are pushing him pretty fervently along the drugs line, but he’s never been much of a user – he can’t afford it. They softened a little once they’d ruled that out, telling him that those who are suffering from trauma can often will entire years out of their memories, that maybe something had triggered him which had caused him to do the same. They weren’t too soft, though, he realised: their idea of a possible trigger for such a memory loss was the murder of his best friend by his own hands. Then they turned to the bloodied hands he’d been found with, and they mused on the idea of a cult. Vulnerable kid, out in the wilderness alone to clear his head, picks one wrong car to hitchhike in… They pitched these theories to him like plots to a cheap horror movie, and none of them fit.

He hasn’t realised that, in the month or so he’s been back, his mood has been waxing and waning in pace with the lunar cycle. He doesn’t see the correlation between the thin sliver of a crescent moon and his cold fever, his physical weakness, the ache in his joints and his shaking hands. He just blames the cigarettes. He has noticed one thing, though, just recently. A mark on his body that is foreign, a mark he doesn’t remember having before Adam died. He spotted it in the mirror after he finally got to shower, after the police had taken samples of the blood on his body and he was allowed to wash it off at home. The ghost of a pale crescent etched high up on his left side, under his collarbone, small and sinister. He touched it, and it felt cold even though the water washing over him was scalding hot. He couldn’t remember getting it done. He couldn’t remember anything.

When he touched it, he could feel his heart beating; he remembered feeling it racing when he was with Hazel, when he was with Adam. He remembered how their hearts were still, but when he touched the crescent on his chest he felt his own heart still pumping, bitter and stoic. The strength in his body gave out and he sank to his knees, keeled over in the shower, back arched and chest shuddering with sobs. He saw the blood on his hands again, the blood which didn’t belong to him, and he scrubbed at his palms with his knuckles until they were red raw for real. He stayed in the shower with his head in his hands until the water ran cold, but still he didn’t feel clean.

Please include 1-2 possible plots you see for this character. The first cluster of plots I think we need for Neil deal with the short-term, and focus on his role in the investigation as it is right now. I want to see tense encounters with Murphy, visits and investigations which aren’t perhaps all above board, or compliant with official procedure: Murphy’s so close to pinning it on Neil and burying the truth that I think he’ll be getting desperate, and I want to see real threatening tension there between them. I also think Levi is important in this regard, and I’d love to cook up some sort of exposé on the Monroe family (it’s perfect for the paper: a crazy, jailed, dead father; drunken, depressive, hospitalised mother; and their inevitably criminal, sociopathic, murderous son) and play that out with Neil and Levi: I think Levi would be really important in telling Neil’s redemption story, too, if that ever comes, so developing their relationship would be very interesting. Amelia is crucial to short-term plots as well as the longer-term burn: we’ll have to tease out an excruciating process of trust, but I want there to come a point where Neil gets to look Amelia in the eye and tell her how he really felt about her brother, and I feel like when that point comes, she’ll believe his innocence, and maybe they can develop a good bond. Because of his role in the murder case, I think it’d be quite easy for Neil to be believably cast out by a lot of characters, and it’s unlikely that he’d push to make connections at this point, so I’ll be on the lookout for ways to engage him with people in circles that he isn’t already involved in. (Cassidy and Summer and the other ‘good kids’ are an interesting case, for example. I wonder, does anyone in the town not think he did it? Or at least pity him nonetheless? I’d be keen to work on a plot related to that, but I think a crucial figure in ‘saving’ him is obviously Willa. The rebuilding of their relationship would be very important in the long-term.) Working on the slow enmity-to-friendship of him and Cherry is another plot I’d be keen to develop. I’ve also been doing some thinking about Shae, and thought it would be cool if one day either they bump into each other and get talking about it - at the bar, maybe, on neighbouring barstools - or Neil just straight up approaches her, and basically he asks Shae to try and read his mind to go digging for answers, to help him un-block his memory, to find the truth, etc. He’s skeptical and reluctant at first, probably, but there’s lots of potential there! I also really, really want to throw him and Valerie together, and Jonah. The fact that they know they’re responsible for at least one of the deaths, of his girlfriend at that, and that now he’s likely going down for both murders – a conversation between them would honestly be squirm-worthy and I want it now. I also want to develop a plot between himself and Dominic - they might have never met before, but maybe they meet whilst both grieving down in the swamps. They get to talking, and they realise how well the other knew Hazel and how little they were aware of it until that point, and voilá - tension.

WRITING SAMPLE

The round white mouth of the interrogation lamp burned full like the moon outside the station, its hot electric hum causing his skin to prickle. The officer had stepped out, undoubtedly in an attempt to rustle his nerves, to leave him with his thoughts in the hope that they’d bubble up so much he’d end up squealing. As if they didn’t already shriek in his skull. Neil’s fingers were shaking, as he sat silently at the table, and he patted his chest for the cigarette box they’d confiscated as he’d come in. Muscle memory. He was good with that: sirens mean run, fists mean duck, bottle-clink means grit your teeth and try to read the newscaster’s lips over the shouting. Oliver Twist, they’d called him, the cherubic thief you can’t help but forgive. Little did they know that Oliver would grow up, and his angel face would become gaunt and his eyes dull, and suddenly his skinny hips and bruised knees would be repulsive, and instead of smiled at he’d be spat on and instead of hand-outs, he’d get handcuffs. On his way in that night he’d been marched past the same officer who’d sat in his patrol car silently six years back, watching the store owner pummel a minor for shoplifting a frozen pizza and some Band-Aids. He’d been photographed for the mugshots by the same officer who’d visited the house after his dad’s arrest, who’d reviled his mother, sneering, to his face: Surname sure does suit her, doesn’t it? Monroe. Blonde hair, bit of a looker, popular with the fellas. Wonder what she’s got rattling in the bathroom cabinets. Daring Neil to hit him, daring him to commit an arrestable offence right then and there, just so they could pack him up for good. Over his dead body, he’d thought: it had turned out to be over Adam’s, instead. He’d never really been able to grow much facial hair, but stubble had ghosted his sallow cheeks when they found him. ‘Like a terrible ghost’, the old Mr and Mrs had described him in their story for the papers: Neil’s reappearance had given them enough dinner-party material for a lifetime. He felt like a ghost, too, a wailing phantom lurking about in the streets of a town which just wanted him gone. He was even living in a ghost house, empty of its owners, bills piling up by the door. He hadn’t gone to visit his mother in the hospital yet. It was almost as though, in his head, she’d died too. Some days he wondered why he hadn’t died himself already. Was he staying alive for the next microwave quesadilla, the next pack of cigarettes? He used to own his poverty like it was interesting, playing the role of the jaded stray too old for his years, too clever for his own good. All that cleverness – the biting remarks, the Sartre aphorisms he’d picked up from a documentary soundtracked by his mother’s snores – was useless now. All the blasé bitterness in the world couldn’t save him, nor help him pick up the pieces which lay around him in ruins.

He’d tried to weave the tapestry together a thousand times, just like the police officers who sat opposite him and attempted to do the same with their questions, their scribbles, their murmurs. None of it made sense, though, almost as if there were a thread missing which condemned the whole thing to fall apart. A missing piece in the story, a missing chapter in the timeline: for him, it was missing months. He needed to make sense of it all, needed to understand as much as he’d craved all those years to be understood. He still craved that now, as he stared into the cup of bad coffee the officer had left him with and tried to find the answer in its black stillness: where have I been? Who am I now? Where the hell am I going?

EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?:

kill him !!!! kill him now !! but no in all seriousness, I’d be okay with him dying and, to be completely honest, I feel like he’s marked himself for death already anyway. my aim in plotting will be to bring him back from that edge with the help of other characters, but if the future turns of events obscure that goal, or if someone takes it upon themselves to kill him themselves, I’d be totally chill with that. it makes a lot of sense for Neil not to make it out of this mess alive, tbh, as much as he’s my baby and I’d hope he does.

Why did you choose this character?:

I’ve played a lot of characters with internal struggles and woes and worries before, but Neil has this darker edge to him which I wanted to explore as a writer. He’s a bit more of a wild target, too (chaotic neutral, I think?) where I’m more familiar with the lawful neutrals and goods. And, of course, there’s a lot of meaty plot to get through with him, and a lot of things to straighten out with regards to his friends, identity, and his role in the case, all of which I’m really excited to bite into.

Extras:

I have a mock blog for him here, though it’s somewhat sparse, but my pinterest board for him conveys a bit more. I’ve also made a playlist of songs that either relate to him or actually feature in his story throughout the years - there are little notes besides each in the description that should explain that more fully.

How did you find us?: through a friend referral!

p.s.: finally, thank you so much for reading all of this !!! I know my app was hideously too long and overblown but I hope you liked it

#rp #rpg #roleplay #lsrpg #bio rp #accepted #neil monroe

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