AuntFlavia Member
The Unofficial Consulting Dork
STATUS: Stranger Things is soooo goooood 10 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: AuntFlavia
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 881 (0.19 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- AuntFlavia 12 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
10 yrs ago
Current
Stranger Things is soooo goooood
4
likes
10 yrs ago
Mondays and Wednesdays get a bad rep. It's actually Tuesday that is the worst weekday.
2
likes
10 yrs ago
Writing down an idea you're not happy with is the hardest thing, but you just gotta do it, because then it builds up and improves and the floodgates open.
2
likes
10 yrs ago
Man, I hate spring a whoooole lot.
10 yrs ago
Ever hypnotize yourself with your own avatar? IT'S HAPPENING TO ME RIGHT NOW
Bio
Personal:
Female, 24. I live in the tundra. If I list my interests, I'll break the character limit.
Writing/RPing:
I prefer realistic settings, but I can be pliable. Not big on Fandom RPs unless it's one I'm really into. No anime either. I'm kinda picky in general. RPing is pretty much the only way I can write. I can't think up plots, so I wouldn't make a good GM I think. Maybe in the future. For me writing is like doodling; it's a creative release, but I'm not an artist. I'm not great at writing romance either, and I refuse to write sex scenes with any more detail than 'tastefully fade to black'.
Availability:
I work full time, but I should still have time for RPing. Illness doesn't stop me, and if I can't get a post up I will say so in the OOC. Thursdays are out.
Roleplays I'm currently in
Wink Murder
Wolf Manor
Old Guild
Silent Hill RPG
Hüeller Morgann
Female, 24. I live in the tundra. If I list my interests, I'll break the character limit.
Writing/RPing:
I prefer realistic settings, but I can be pliable. Not big on Fandom RPs unless it's one I'm really into. No anime either. I'm kinda picky in general. RPing is pretty much the only way I can write. I can't think up plots, so I wouldn't make a good GM I think. Maybe in the future. For me writing is like doodling; it's a creative release, but I'm not an artist. I'm not great at writing romance either, and I refuse to write sex scenes with any more detail than 'tastefully fade to black'.
Availability:
I work full time, but I should still have time for RPing. Illness doesn't stop me, and if I can't get a post up I will say so in the OOC. Thursdays are out.
Roleplays I'm currently in
Wink Murder
Wolf Manor
Old Guild
Silent Hill RPG
Hüeller Morgann
Most Recent Posts
Don't apologize, darkness is neat
Thank you. Also, that's pretty frakkin cool.
Cool, and I'd just like to say that 'find out why the hell this man exploded' might be my new favorite sentence.
John sat cross-legged on the floor of his room. He didn't know what time it was.
It was a cramped but cozy room in the utilities area of the building, closer to the bathrooms and kitchen than the actual bar. Apparently it used to be an extra storage room, because there was a very large cupboard that took up most of the space. In fact, the cupboard was large enough to fit a person in, so John had taken the doors off completely and fit a small mattress inside. It was big enough for him; he wasn't very tall and wasn't one to toss and turn all night either. Above where the doors used to be John had put up a disjointed curtain rod and panel for extra privacy. All that was left in the room was his keyboard sitting comfortably on its stand, a desk and dim desk lamp so he could sketch and a chair for both. His room was always dark and warm.
John didn't want to stay in the Order's headquarters under the bar, even when they said that there were bigger and nicer rooms. Being down below frightened him, and not because of the supernatural elements. He supposed that being underground reminded him of his own mind; when you thought and traveled too deep, all the weight and rock pressed above you, ready to collapse and bury you in the dark again. Then there would be nothing to do but scream and shout and cry into the void, and wait until forever for the nothing to answer back.
He stood up and looked down at the black and white keys of his instrument, glowing softly in the muted light of the room. When he placed his fingers on them, his jumbled and drifting thoughts seemed to coalesce. Everything was all right then, because he knew what the keys were; the keys could make notes, and John knew which notes to play to make a song. He didn't recognize the songs, but he knew them by heart and could play them whenever he wanted, even if he was feeling especially lost that day. The keyboard, the notes and the songs were his anchor to his life before. When John played, it was like a window opened to the 'before' time, and he could reach out and touch his past self of which he knew so little. So he started playing.
This song was the easiest to remember; it was short, slow, simple and very sweet to John's ears. His hands and fingers moved lazily as he lost himself for a few moments, only to be brought back by the sound of a faint knocking on the door next to him just before it opened. John could recognize the silhouette of the person out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to look away from the keys. It was his doctor, or he supposed that the man was a doctor. They met regularly so he could ask John questions like “How are you feeling?” and “Do you remember who did this to you?” and “Will you tell me if this man looks familiar?” The last question was always accompanied by a picture or a drawing of someone he had never seen before. He didn't have a briefcase this time though, so maybe John wouldn't have to try and remember anything today. He relaxed.
The man glanced at John's keyboard for a moment and listened politely before asking, “How do you like the keyboard?”
“I love it, thank you. It helps me.” John said, his voice softer than he'd like. It made him sound out of place; all the other men he had met had strong, tough voices.
“Well, Jennifer approved the request. All I had to do was ask her and explain what it meant to you.”
“Thank you.” John said again. They were both silent for a while, then out of confusion about his presence, John said, “You said yesterday that we weren't doing questions today.”
“That's not why I'm here. I just wanted to check up on you, and to make sure you're feeling comfortable today.”
John didn't understand why. There had been plenty of days where the doctor didn't visit at all. He turned his attention back to his song, slowing down the melody because he was getting near the end.
“Going Home.” The other man said suddenly.
“You are?” John asked, furrowing his brow.
“No, that's the name of the song. It's actually part of New World Symphony, do you remember?”
“No.” John answered quickly. Truthfully, he didn't even try to remember. John thought he said that he wouldn't ask any questions today.
“That's all right. Well, you let me know if you need anything, I'll be...you know, downstairs.”
With that he left, leaving a confused amnesiac in his wake. John sighed and stopped playing. He wasn't feeling too good today, his thoughts were dark and he couldn't help it. Maybe work would take his mind off of it. John shuffled out of his room, hoping to find something to clean or sweep up to distract him for a while, at least until people started showing up.
It was a cramped but cozy room in the utilities area of the building, closer to the bathrooms and kitchen than the actual bar. Apparently it used to be an extra storage room, because there was a very large cupboard that took up most of the space. In fact, the cupboard was large enough to fit a person in, so John had taken the doors off completely and fit a small mattress inside. It was big enough for him; he wasn't very tall and wasn't one to toss and turn all night either. Above where the doors used to be John had put up a disjointed curtain rod and panel for extra privacy. All that was left in the room was his keyboard sitting comfortably on its stand, a desk and dim desk lamp so he could sketch and a chair for both. His room was always dark and warm.
John didn't want to stay in the Order's headquarters under the bar, even when they said that there were bigger and nicer rooms. Being down below frightened him, and not because of the supernatural elements. He supposed that being underground reminded him of his own mind; when you thought and traveled too deep, all the weight and rock pressed above you, ready to collapse and bury you in the dark again. Then there would be nothing to do but scream and shout and cry into the void, and wait until forever for the nothing to answer back.
He stood up and looked down at the black and white keys of his instrument, glowing softly in the muted light of the room. When he placed his fingers on them, his jumbled and drifting thoughts seemed to coalesce. Everything was all right then, because he knew what the keys were; the keys could make notes, and John knew which notes to play to make a song. He didn't recognize the songs, but he knew them by heart and could play them whenever he wanted, even if he was feeling especially lost that day. The keyboard, the notes and the songs were his anchor to his life before. When John played, it was like a window opened to the 'before' time, and he could reach out and touch his past self of which he knew so little. So he started playing.
This song was the easiest to remember; it was short, slow, simple and very sweet to John's ears. His hands and fingers moved lazily as he lost himself for a few moments, only to be brought back by the sound of a faint knocking on the door next to him just before it opened. John could recognize the silhouette of the person out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to look away from the keys. It was his doctor, or he supposed that the man was a doctor. They met regularly so he could ask John questions like “How are you feeling?” and “Do you remember who did this to you?” and “Will you tell me if this man looks familiar?” The last question was always accompanied by a picture or a drawing of someone he had never seen before. He didn't have a briefcase this time though, so maybe John wouldn't have to try and remember anything today. He relaxed.
The man glanced at John's keyboard for a moment and listened politely before asking, “How do you like the keyboard?”
“I love it, thank you. It helps me.” John said, his voice softer than he'd like. It made him sound out of place; all the other men he had met had strong, tough voices.
“Well, Jennifer approved the request. All I had to do was ask her and explain what it meant to you.”
“Thank you.” John said again. They were both silent for a while, then out of confusion about his presence, John said, “You said yesterday that we weren't doing questions today.”
“That's not why I'm here. I just wanted to check up on you, and to make sure you're feeling comfortable today.”
John didn't understand why. There had been plenty of days where the doctor didn't visit at all. He turned his attention back to his song, slowing down the melody because he was getting near the end.
“Going Home.” The other man said suddenly.
“You are?” John asked, furrowing his brow.
“No, that's the name of the song. It's actually part of New World Symphony, do you remember?”
“No.” John answered quickly. Truthfully, he didn't even try to remember. John thought he said that he wouldn't ask any questions today.
“That's all right. Well, you let me know if you need anything, I'll be...you know, downstairs.”
With that he left, leaving a confused amnesiac in his wake. John sighed and stopped playing. He wasn't feeling too good today, his thoughts were dark and he couldn't help it. Maybe work would take his mind off of it. John shuffled out of his room, hoping to find something to clean or sweep up to distract him for a while, at least until people started showing up.
Oh man, now I'm afraid to post second. :p John's doesn't have the most exciting life, especially by comparison, and I just wanted to establish his character and some mood before diving in proper. Ah hell with it. It'll be up in like 60 seconds.
Same here, working on it already, probably won't be too substantial though.
*dances*
I'm fine with either method really. I've been on this site for a few years now and in every rp I've been in there hasn't been a problem with people posting too quickly (if anything the opposite), so everyone posting when they can shouldn't be a problem unless one of us has way too much time on their hands. Personally, the only rp I've been in when we had to actually worry about posting order and timezones was a tabletop rp with dice rolling mechanics. I don't think there's too much to worry about since things usually end up being fluid most of the time, and if someone gets left behind in the dust and doesn't post for weeks then they probably weren't going to post for weeks anyway. Besides, if there is a problem, we can easily adapt and adjust.
And can I just say that I think we've got a good range of characters here? And a good amount too, it's enough that if a few people drop out we'll still be good to go.
And can I just say that I think we've got a good range of characters here? And a good amount too, it's enough that if a few people drop out we'll still be good to go.
Sweet
Name: Unknown, though he calls himself John because of his 'John Doe' hospital bracelet.
Age: Unknown, looks late twenties or early thirties.
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.
Appearance: Slim build, average height with medium length dark brown wavy hair and blue eyes. His most prominent feature is his sharp aquiline nose.
Magic: Adept in Illusion. Mostly he can only use his magic for small things, like making a drawing appear to come to life, or making something appear that isn't there. He has been getting stronger with practice.
Equipment: None, though he does carry a pencil around with him at all times, and his keeps his old hospital bracelet with him.
Personality: John's mind is in a fragile state, though it seems like he was always a sensitive man who leaned more towards the artistic and spiritual side of life. He fluctuates between being a chatterbox and being very quiet out of embarrassment because of his struggles with remembering words. Despite this, he is very friendly with the regulars at the bar and finds them very encouraging. He loves to be around them and hates being alone. It would take a lot to make him mad, but not much at all to hurt his feelings. There is a certain wide-eyed ignorant innocence about him.
History: John remembers nothing of his life before waking up in a hospital to people asking him questions about who he was and what happened to him. He was originally found by a passer-by. He was lying in a ditch on a long stretch of highway in the dead of winter, presumably very far away from home. The good citizen called for an ambulance at once and he was taken to the nearest hospital. After an accidental display of one of his illusions, the Order soon swooped in and took him somewhere safe and away from the prying eyes of the general public. Their main interests were keeping him safe, figuring out who he was and trying to find out who had taught him his magical skills. With that they began trying to rebuild his memories with limited success. He can't remember specific names, places, or people, but some memories are implicit. For example, he already knew how to speak, but he had to re-learn the English language, though it was very easy for him learn it again. He is also very adept at drawing and he recently found out that he could play the piano very well even though he doesn't remember learning and can't read music. It isn't clear if his memories from before are gone forever or just buried. Despite his progress, it's clear that is mind was damaged somehow, sometimes he can't connect the dots and complex things confuse him. John lives and works at the bar, cleaning up the place and washing the dishes. When the Order asked if he wanted to get a small apartment of his own, he declined. John wanted to stay at the bar, since nowhere else would feel like home.
Age: Unknown, looks late twenties or early thirties.
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.
Appearance: Slim build, average height with medium length dark brown wavy hair and blue eyes. His most prominent feature is his sharp aquiline nose.
Magic: Adept in Illusion. Mostly he can only use his magic for small things, like making a drawing appear to come to life, or making something appear that isn't there. He has been getting stronger with practice.
Equipment: None, though he does carry a pencil around with him at all times, and his keeps his old hospital bracelet with him.
Personality: John's mind is in a fragile state, though it seems like he was always a sensitive man who leaned more towards the artistic and spiritual side of life. He fluctuates between being a chatterbox and being very quiet out of embarrassment because of his struggles with remembering words. Despite this, he is very friendly with the regulars at the bar and finds them very encouraging. He loves to be around them and hates being alone. It would take a lot to make him mad, but not much at all to hurt his feelings. There is a certain wide-eyed ignorant innocence about him.
History: John remembers nothing of his life before waking up in a hospital to people asking him questions about who he was and what happened to him. He was originally found by a passer-by. He was lying in a ditch on a long stretch of highway in the dead of winter, presumably very far away from home. The good citizen called for an ambulance at once and he was taken to the nearest hospital. After an accidental display of one of his illusions, the Order soon swooped in and took him somewhere safe and away from the prying eyes of the general public. Their main interests were keeping him safe, figuring out who he was and trying to find out who had taught him his magical skills. With that they began trying to rebuild his memories with limited success. He can't remember specific names, places, or people, but some memories are implicit. For example, he already knew how to speak, but he had to re-learn the English language, though it was very easy for him learn it again. He is also very adept at drawing and he recently found out that he could play the piano very well even though he doesn't remember learning and can't read music. It isn't clear if his memories from before are gone forever or just buried. Despite his progress, it's clear that is mind was damaged somehow, sometimes he can't connect the dots and complex things confuse him. John lives and works at the bar, cleaning up the place and washing the dishes. When the Order asked if he wanted to get a small apartment of his own, he declined. John wanted to stay at the bar, since nowhere else would feel like home.
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