nah, I think I want to wait it out and see what happens. Plus I think it's something Aki needs to get through on his own.
banjoanjo Member
Still likes pistachios
- Last Seen: 9 mos ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 779 (0.21 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- banjoanjo 10 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
In
Persona - Academic Akrasia (Being rebooted, see new int check)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
[Interest Check] Stand Proud - Pleasant Valley Sunday (A JoJo-'em-up).
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
aw man, I was planning on making a character who played trumpet
In
[Interest Check] Stand Proud - Pleasant Valley Sunday (A JoJo-'em-up).
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Definitely interested! I'm almost finished with the Part 4 manga and the anime has exceeded all expectations so far.
Is this still going?
In
Persona - Academic Akrasia (Being rebooted, see new int check)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
He groaned and fell to his knee. It was like there was a physical barrier between his current consciousness and what he needed to remember. He slapped his forehead in a further attempt to get it out. Arrgh, at this rate he’d just get taken down by those shadows without even putting up a fight. His body was still sluggish from the ordeal, the darkness sending shivers all over his body and seemingly weighing him down. He wouldn’t last long like this.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, an insignificant form of reassurance in this situation. A purple haired girl was shouting something at him over the din of inhuman shrieks and weird humanoid creatures that seemed to be controlled by some teens (classmates?) that were also present. He managed to catch the last bit of what she was saying.
“-yourself. Listen to that voice, and you should have the power to pull through." She spoke with a confident smile.
It seemed she meant well, but to him that smile was as comforting as a crocodile’s (ie. Not at all comforting). Warning bells were going off in his mind and he hastily shook off her hand. Upon first glance, this girl seemed kind enough, but his instincts and the remainder of his memories were screaming otherwise.
“Listen, …uh.” The name escaped him. Whatever, there was no time for tact right now. “I appreciate the pep talk but my memories are kinda not functioning right now and the remaining memory stuff that’s working is saying that I shouldn’t trust you. I was scared of you before, guess I still am.”
He had a feeling he didn’t usually talk this brazenly.
“But we’re in a life or death situation here, so we’ll have to make do. You keep killing stuff with your … cat … Stand … thing , and I’ll back you up and keep working on getting myself back. Deal?”
He pat himself down, looking for something he could use from his pockets. Pencils, phone, slips of paper with notes and little doodles, and … woah, those were definitely against school regulations. Concealed in an inner pocket of the weirdly coloured sweater he was wearing, undetectable from the outside, were a pair of brass knuckle dusters. How someone like him had managed to get a hold of these and why he was carrying them in the first place was a mystery, but those questions would get their answers later.
He placed them on his fingers and got into a fighting stance. In his condition, he wouldn’t be much assistance in the fight. His body still felt sickly, vision still hazy, and the chills only got worse by the second. The guy with the Hawaiian shirt just morphed into something. The only solid way he’d be able to help would be to look for weak spots against this new enemy, work out a strategy or find a way to escape. The sinister aura emanating from the monster reaffirmed one of his earlier thoughts. He wouldn’t last long like this.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, an insignificant form of reassurance in this situation. A purple haired girl was shouting something at him over the din of inhuman shrieks and weird humanoid creatures that seemed to be controlled by some teens (classmates?) that were also present. He managed to catch the last bit of what she was saying.
“-yourself. Listen to that voice, and you should have the power to pull through." She spoke with a confident smile.
It seemed she meant well, but to him that smile was as comforting as a crocodile’s (ie. Not at all comforting). Warning bells were going off in his mind and he hastily shook off her hand. Upon first glance, this girl seemed kind enough, but his instincts and the remainder of his memories were screaming otherwise.
“Listen, …uh.” The name escaped him. Whatever, there was no time for tact right now. “I appreciate the pep talk but my memories are kinda not functioning right now and the remaining memory stuff that’s working is saying that I shouldn’t trust you. I was scared of you before, guess I still am.”
He had a feeling he didn’t usually talk this brazenly.
“But we’re in a life or death situation here, so we’ll have to make do. You keep killing stuff with your … cat … Stand … thing , and I’ll back you up and keep working on getting myself back. Deal?”
He pat himself down, looking for something he could use from his pockets. Pencils, phone, slips of paper with notes and little doodles, and … woah, those were definitely against school regulations. Concealed in an inner pocket of the weirdly coloured sweater he was wearing, undetectable from the outside, were a pair of brass knuckle dusters. How someone like him had managed to get a hold of these and why he was carrying them in the first place was a mystery, but those questions would get their answers later.
He placed them on his fingers and got into a fighting stance. In his condition, he wouldn’t be much assistance in the fight. His body still felt sickly, vision still hazy, and the chills only got worse by the second. The guy with the Hawaiian shirt just morphed into something. The only solid way he’d be able to help would be to look for weak spots against this new enemy, work out a strategy or find a way to escape. The sinister aura emanating from the monster reaffirmed one of his earlier thoughts. He wouldn’t last long like this.
Name
Milene Laporte
Gender
Female
Age
17
Nationality
Born in France, currently based in Melbourne, Australia
Element
Fire
Role
Smart Guy
Appearance
Long straight bronze hair, dark brown eyes, pale-ish skin that tans during summer. Stands at around 167cm. Dress code for her school demands that it is tied up into a ponytail, but she usually wears it like that outside of school for convenience anyway. Average build, not exactly toned, but has fairly muscular legs from cycling. Wears a constant pokerface, expression doesn’t change much apart from occasional chuckles and eyebrow raises.
Milene doesn’t put much effort or money into her appearance but still barely passes as “not unfashionable”. Wears clothes that are easy to move around in, usually jeans, sneakers, a simple t-shirt and light jacket. Doesn’t own much clothing and has one particular jacket she seems to prefer. Is pretty much immune to weather whether it be heat or cold so her outfit doesn’t change much throughout the year.
Personality
From the outset, Milene is blunt person. She states the facts as she sees them but doesn’t go out of her way to disparage someone, though she often accidentally makes scathing remarks that alienate people. She prefers reason over emotion as a way of figuring things out and can easily logically disarm most people in an argument. Most people see her as condescending because of her curt manner and detached wit. She doesn’t mind though, “different strokes for different folks” as she likes to say. Laidback and generally excels in school, though her grades in history are a bit lacking. Despite her unassuming outer personality, Milene’s thought process can be quite vivid and imaginative.
Her utilitarian mindset may put her at odds with some people. Her sense of justice may be a bit stunted by this, as she’s a very “needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” sort of person. She seeks efficiency in everything she does, be it in her speech or school work. Her extremely colloquial speech is a result of this, though she’s not one for talking much in the first place.
A fault of her personality is that she tends to judge heavily upon first impressions. She doesn’t give respect until the person has proven deserving of it. But when she does approve of a person, her loyalty is astounding. If someone is deemed worthy of it, she will support them with everything she’s got. Unless you handle her well, she won’t be very cooperative.
Slight fear of knives and sharp objects. Unnatural fondness of Skittles.
Backstory
Milene was born in Toulouse and lived there until the age of 9. Her parents worked at a prominent aircraft engineering company that sustained their fairly comfortable upper middle class lifestyle. Apart from an accident in the tool shed that led to her fear of sharp objects, Milene’s life in France was uneventful. When not exploring the town on her bike, she was perusing the contents of her father’s bookshelf, which mostly consisted of scientific journals and books on mechanical engineering. At first she only read them to admire the pictures, but as she got older she managed to grasp the language and key ideas.
Thanks to her parents’ jobs, they moved to Australia. Her classmates were initially curious about the newcomer (the accent certainly helped) but when her antisocial tendencies became apparent, the interest soon dissolved. For high school, Milene’s parents had her enrolled into a private girl’s school where she was finally lucky enough to make friends and put her French to use in class. When her parents declared that they were moving back, Milene chose to stay in Melbourne in a rented apartment, where she currently resides.
Likes
Skittles
Cycling
Bebop
Wandering through the city at night
Dislikes
Kiwis (the fruit, not the people)
People with no common sense
Sound of cracking knuckles
Knives
@Howler
Funny story, the smart guy character i'm making is an Australian private school girl (coincidence, i swear)
@DeadBeatWalking
The profile should be up within the next 24 hours. Sorry for the delay
Funny story, the smart guy character i'm making is an Australian private school girl (coincidence, i swear)
@DeadBeatWalking
The profile should be up within the next 24 hours. Sorry for the delay
In
Persona - Academic Akrasia (Being rebooted, see new int check)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Darkness, everywhere. Malicious golden eyes, peering from the void. And the butterflies, fuck, of course, the butterflies. Stupid, stupid dreams. Stupid choices, stupid people causing chaos and running off. The only solace in the pit was the presences of a bespectacled, bloodstained boy and the violet haired girl he was still holding on to.
I … I need to find a way out, he thought, I…
I? Something’s off.
“Would that let me out?” Should be simple enough.
“My name is-“
“You absolute jerk!”
Huh?
A young girl’s voice rang out.
“Why would you say that, _____-kun? Kana-chan’s going to be taken away from her dad because of what you told the teachers. You ruined everything!”
Confused frustration builds. A young boy speaks this time. It was him, years ago.
“Come on, everyone already knew. Kana-chan gets bruises on her arms all the time and none of you had the guts to point it out. If any of you actually took some time to investigate like I did, this whole mess would have been fixed ages ago.”
A girl crying. Jeers and scorn from classmates.
“You didn’t fix anything!” “Yeah, you wrecked her family, you creep!”
A door slammed open. Running, people yelling after him. The place near the bridge, a safe haven. A place to cry without anyone seeing.
A newfound conviction. No one deserved his help. That’s all he was trying to do, help, and look at what he received. No one cared about him and that was fine. There was no one else to worry about, no one to stab him in the back or drag him down. He pushed down the lingering desire to go back, to hang out with his friends like he used to, to apologise for his hasty actions. But if he showed any signs of weakness, it would only get worse.
Who am I? “I’m A-“
“FUCKING MONSTER, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?”
A teenage boy is on the ground, clutching his hip area. A boy with a bloody mouth is screaming at a student wearing a green cardigan cowering behind a teacher. The teacher berates the screaming boy.
“Enough of this nonsense. I’ll not have you throwing baseless accusations at _____-kun like this. Get yourselves to the infirmary at once. I expect a full explanation afterwards, hopefully one that doesn’t denounce the person that was the first to bring assistance. You should be learning from his example, instead of getting into fights like this.”
The boy with the bloody face opens his mouth to deliver another tirade but the almost undetectable glint of the box cutter’s blade in the cardigan wearing boy’s hand stops the words from coming out.
Bloody-mouth helps his friend limp to the infirmary while the teacher huffs off back to the staff room. As the teacher turns the corner, the cardigan boy discards his fearful visage and murmurs to the injured teens. They glare as they shuffle past, so the cardiganed boy mutters something only they could hear.
“I warned you.”
They rush off after that. The box cutter will have to be disposed of, somewhere far, far from school. The victim of that blade had been stabbed just next to the pelvis, the weapon twisted roughly enough to leave the him unable to walk properly for a long time, effectively ruining any dreams of a middle school baseball career. The blood covered brick piece that's hidden in the nearby bushes will need to be binned too.
There was no joy gained from these heinous deeds. But there was no remorse either. Whatever it took to ensure his safety and happiness, the boy in green would do it with no hesitation. His compassion for the human race had been stunted for a long time now.
But what was his name? Who was he?
Another memory. Someone complimenting his sketch of a riverbank. A false smile and a false humble response in return. How long had it been since he had smiled for real? An ear-to-ear grin, with his nose scrunched up the way it used to always do. He couldn’t remember. There was no heart put into his work. It was just a matter of observation, putting whatever he saw onto paper, using techniques practiced for hours in the dark of the night. People liked artists and with his observant eyes, it was the obvious hobby for him.
Who was he?
“It’s easier than you think”
This voice addressed him directly now. It sounded familiar. It was his own.
“An identity is what you are, right? Not what people think you are, maybe not even what you think you are, but the essence of the soul itself,”
The voice chuckles.
“Ah, what a shame that yours is so murky.”
The shadows are moving in.
“You love nothing and no one. You closed off your heart long ago to keep it safe, yet you forgot to open it when everything was finally ok. You lost yourself,”
More shadows.
“You want to know who, no, what you are?”
A ball of play doh, letting others make of him whatever they wanted to see. A chalkboard, completely blank unless something needed to change to benefit others. A remorseless saboteur that struck from the shadows in the most cowardly way possible. An airheaded dreamer that had a knack for the arts. A kid that wanted to be loved, who did everything with the best of intentions for his friends.
Which one was it?
“Heh, who knows?” he smiled wistfully.
He closed his eyes as the shadows lunged.
I … I need to find a way out, he thought, I…
I? Something’s off.
"A simple test; can you state your name?"
“Would that let me out?” Should be simple enough.
“My name is-“
“You absolute jerk!”
Huh?
A young girl’s voice rang out.
“Why would you say that, _____-kun? Kana-chan’s going to be taken away from her dad because of what you told the teachers. You ruined everything!”
Confused frustration builds. A young boy speaks this time. It was him, years ago.
“Come on, everyone already knew. Kana-chan gets bruises on her arms all the time and none of you had the guts to point it out. If any of you actually took some time to investigate like I did, this whole mess would have been fixed ages ago.”
A girl crying. Jeers and scorn from classmates.
“You didn’t fix anything!” “Yeah, you wrecked her family, you creep!”
A door slammed open. Running, people yelling after him. The place near the bridge, a safe haven. A place to cry without anyone seeing.
A newfound conviction. No one deserved his help. That’s all he was trying to do, help, and look at what he received. No one cared about him and that was fine. There was no one else to worry about, no one to stab him in the back or drag him down. He pushed down the lingering desire to go back, to hang out with his friends like he used to, to apologise for his hasty actions. But if he showed any signs of weakness, it would only get worse.
Who am I? “I’m A-“
“FUCKING MONSTER, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?”
A teenage boy is on the ground, clutching his hip area. A boy with a bloody mouth is screaming at a student wearing a green cardigan cowering behind a teacher. The teacher berates the screaming boy.
“Enough of this nonsense. I’ll not have you throwing baseless accusations at _____-kun like this. Get yourselves to the infirmary at once. I expect a full explanation afterwards, hopefully one that doesn’t denounce the person that was the first to bring assistance. You should be learning from his example, instead of getting into fights like this.”
The boy with the bloody face opens his mouth to deliver another tirade but the almost undetectable glint of the box cutter’s blade in the cardigan wearing boy’s hand stops the words from coming out.
Bloody-mouth helps his friend limp to the infirmary while the teacher huffs off back to the staff room. As the teacher turns the corner, the cardigan boy discards his fearful visage and murmurs to the injured teens. They glare as they shuffle past, so the cardiganed boy mutters something only they could hear.
“I warned you.”
They rush off after that. The box cutter will have to be disposed of, somewhere far, far from school. The victim of that blade had been stabbed just next to the pelvis, the weapon twisted roughly enough to leave the him unable to walk properly for a long time, effectively ruining any dreams of a middle school baseball career. The blood covered brick piece that's hidden in the nearby bushes will need to be binned too.
There was no joy gained from these heinous deeds. But there was no remorse either. Whatever it took to ensure his safety and happiness, the boy in green would do it with no hesitation. His compassion for the human race had been stunted for a long time now.
But what was his name? Who was he?
Another memory. Someone complimenting his sketch of a riverbank. A false smile and a false humble response in return. How long had it been since he had smiled for real? An ear-to-ear grin, with his nose scrunched up the way it used to always do. He couldn’t remember. There was no heart put into his work. It was just a matter of observation, putting whatever he saw onto paper, using techniques practiced for hours in the dark of the night. People liked artists and with his observant eyes, it was the obvious hobby for him.
Who was he?
“It’s easier than you think”
This voice addressed him directly now. It sounded familiar. It was his own.
“An identity is what you are, right? Not what people think you are, maybe not even what you think you are, but the essence of the soul itself,”
The voice chuckles.
“Ah, what a shame that yours is so murky.”
The shadows are moving in.
“You love nothing and no one. You closed off your heart long ago to keep it safe, yet you forgot to open it when everything was finally ok. You lost yourself,”
More shadows.
“You want to know who, no, what you are?”
“You’re whatever you need yourself to be.”
A ball of play doh, letting others make of him whatever they wanted to see. A chalkboard, completely blank unless something needed to change to benefit others. A remorseless saboteur that struck from the shadows in the most cowardly way possible. An airheaded dreamer that had a knack for the arts. A kid that wanted to be loved, who did everything with the best of intentions for his friends.
Which one was it?
“Heh, who knows?” he smiled wistfully.
He closed his eyes as the shadows lunged.
planning on doing a smart guy/fire character. should be up soon
interested
© 2007-2026