Wind
Asleep even when Awake
<- Click (스텔라장) - (빌런)
- Wind -
Who am IYou should really click the picture rotating to hear some fire music.
Name: Wind
Age: 21+
Year: ????
D.O.B: December
Zodiac Sign: Sagg
Sexuality: N/A
Pronouns: Any and All, but Male if you must.
Info~Pairings: M// MxF
Time RPing: 10+ years
Format: Mirror//3-4+ Paragraphs
Strength: Story and Character Creation
Time Zone: EST
Post Turn Around: 2/week--1 every other day
Writing Style: Third Person
Ghost Friendly: Yes
Guidelines
✦ PM threads!
❖ 1x1 preferred.
✦ 1 or 2 posts per week would be great.
❖ Intermediate would be wonderful with paragraph style if possible!
✦ I'd like anime face-claims please. I get kind of get uncomfortable if we use real life pictures.
❖ I'd prefer if no one ghosts but if you do not answer within a week I will assume you have ghosted.
✦ Doubling is not preferred but if it will make you happy I will oblige.
❖ I will expect you to play some NPCs to further our story. Just faceless no names if you can unless it's very much needed. [I will be doing the same]
-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-❖-
✦ 18+ I don't feel comfortable with those underage.
❖ Note that even if I do romance with you in a story, I have no interest in finding a partner on here. I am merely here to create a beautiful story with you, nothing more, nothing less.
⟼By Commenting Below You Agree To These Rules ⟻
Things I'd Like To RP:
Character's I Can Play for You
♚ Shows/Movies/TV:
⋆ Heaven Official's Blessing
⋆ Beastars
⋆ BNA
⋆ FATE
⋆ Inu Yasha
⋆ Please Save My Earth
⋆ Digimon
⋆ Harry Potter Universe
⋆ Hunger Games
♛ Games:
⋆ Don't Starve Together
⋆ Ace Attorney
⋆ Undertale
⋆ Obey Me
⋆ FIre Emblem
♜ Topics:
⋆ Guardian Angel: A is a Guardian Angel for B. One day B is about to die and A gives up their immortal angelic body to save them and becomes mortal.
⋆ Ghost: A is a regular human that is suddenly able to see a ghost. Together they try to figure out why B is haunting/A is able to see them.
⋆ Memory Loss: A and B suddenly find themselves on a sandy beach. It seems their plane has crashed and they must find a way to survive!
⋆ Pretend: A is in need of a date and they select B to be their date for the night.
⋆ Kidnapped[EscapeRoom/Only for advanced people]: A and B find themselves in a room together and chained together. They have to find a way to get out!
⋆ Alpha and Omega: The world has been annihilated and the society has been split into Alpha and Omega. A star-crossed lover type story.
⋆ Hunter and Hunted: A is a hunter tasked to kill the species that is B. As B is caught it slowly changes into a humanoid form and A now tries to hide B from government.
⇉ Don't Be Scared To Ask ! ⇇
Virus[V-ruse] Shuzenji
Boku no Hero Academia OC
A distant relative of the famous Recovery Girl.
Quirk: Recovery via Lips.
Take and Stores pain within his body causing necrosis in his unless he shoots it out into another living organism.
Personality: Quiet, shy, soft-spoken.
Easily embarrassed because of his quirk.
Mostly useless because of his germaphobia and would only kiss someone if it were 100% an absolute emergency.
Only joined HA due to insistence of his distant relative.
Furukawa Tatsuya
Persona 5 OC
Code Name: Drake
Personality: Quiet, Reserved, Impulsive, Depressing, Snarky
Backstory/Bio:
He was born of a pretty wealthy family.
He had good looks, money, smarts but all the glitz and glamor bored him to tears.
He became a thrill seeker looking for any sort of fight or reason to be out in the dark.
He became proficient in fights by using weapons or items or even his own fists.
Some called him a cold sadist, but taken the hits made him feel alive that he saw himself to be more of a sorry masochist.
The normal every day life bored him to tears.
He wanted to feel like he was his own person...not a product of his family's well breeding.
Even with all the glitz and glamor there wasn't really anyone he could really connect with.
They all wanted him for his money or whatever and that's what bored him the most.
Life just wasn't cutting it.
[Eva]ngeline Ophelia Arnette
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Personality: Calm, Intelligent, Intuitive, Hard Working, Straight Laced
She is described by many as a thoroughbred soldier.
Descended from many an acclaimed heroes throughout their time, but she, herself, in fact, is mostly a plain and normal girl herself.
She excelled in the many tests given to her. She was good at those.
Being told what to do and do it was one of her specialties and probably the reason most of her fellow called her a "robot".
She was good at taking orders, figuratively and literally.
As long as she was told by her higher up who she was to take orders from, she would listen wholeheartedly.
This didn't, however, keep her from "double checking" what they wanted really was what they wanted in case it didn't sound logical to her.
But if she did get the second affirmation she would most likely end up doing it.
Kira Phyrra Mydoll
A small time streamer with an even smaller fan base.
Age: 18+ ???
Gender: Female
Personality: Somewhat self absorbed. Very independent.
Name
bleh
Code by Stardust Galaxy | Edited by Wind
It's been a while since I've rp'd but here's how I used to and what I hope to go back to.
It's been a while since I've rp'd but here's how I used to and what I hope to go back to.
Wilson wiped his face off with the towel. He so wished he could return to bathing or even to lounge around on his bed, but there was no time for that unfortunately. There was a guest in his home and he needed to go and entertain him. "Ugh..." he groaned and tossed a disgusting shirt on the other side of his room. Being a genius and a gentleman was hard when all you do all day is work and not care about your living arrangements. Another shirt was tossed aside, did he even have any clean undergarments? Surely he wouldn't be forced to wear the only clean thing in the home...that being the towel wrapped on his waist.
A small sighed left him once again. His special reserve clothes would have to do, at least just for tonight. He took out a sleek, black suit jacket and gingerly touched it with his thin, pale fingers.
He never quite understood his fascination with this one particular suit, but it was special to him and usually only worn on particular occasions. This would be the first time he'd wear this on a not so special occasion but that was as much his fault as it was his unexpected guest's fault.
He traced the outline of his suit. The lapel was peaked, he liked the sharp look it gave it. The double back vents, as was usually a standard in british suits. The jetted pockets would give a sense of formality, always a good and classy addition to any suit. Wilson shrugged on his white shirt and his vest and pulled the jacket on, buttoning it and quaffed his tie.
He slid on his black socks, as well as, his pressed pants.
He looked good, he always looked good in this suit.
To finish the outfit he took out his favorite black wingtip shoes and his dark coloured gloves. Spiffy and formal, almost too formal and he hoped it wouldn't scare off his new possible assistant. The lack of clothes had forced him to don his most favorite of clothing. He supposed that one be one of the chores his assistant could be in charge of. The pay was paltry but it was a live in job so the assistant would at least have a roof over their heads and food on the table. When thinking about the theoretical food on the table his stomach growled loudly in protest. He had opted to bathe instead of eating and was quite peckish now.
He sighed in defeat. Instead of a nice cup of tea, perhaps a meal was also in order with the tea.
He opened the door and walked promptly down the stairs and nodded in acknowledgement to the other sitting down awaiting him. Wilson's click clack of his shoes could be heard echoing through the hallway till they stopped in front of this kitchen. Tea was one thing. Tea was an easy-to-create thing as all British lads and lasses were apt at tea.
Dinner on the other hand... may not turn out so well. Dinner was hopefully another thing that his (possible) assistant would hopefully be helpful at, seeing as he was hopefully of French descent; not trying to be stereotypical, just hopeful, as Wilson quite enjoyed a decent French meal.
Sounds of clinks and clanks, scraping and even blowing up could be heard in from the hallway. Sparks of light would glimmer and cease to exist. Wilson treated cooking like science, why wouldn't the recipe be correct if he followed it closely and correctly?
He pushed out a makeshift serving cart that actually served as a surgical tool table with the food and tea table waved the other to come to the dinner table.
He groaned as the table was full of notebooks, books, pencils, cataloging equipment and the like and brushed it all to the side.
The placements of the tea and food were correct, although the food itself appeared less than appetizing being burnt in several places and probably raw and cold in others. A slight black aura oozed from the food making look that much more delectable. Whenever Wilson did manage to pull himself out of his work to cook it was always like this. It wasn't the most delectable thing in the universe but it was at least "edible" and by far, this was the best creation yet, the best looking food he had ever attempted to make and he was quite proud.
Wilson hadn't died from anything... yet. He may have had a few stomachaches, fever, dysentery here and there but that never stopped him from attempting to feed himself. Sadly this was probably one of the few reasons that Wilson stayed so skinny and young for his age.
Malnourishment, lack of sleep, and constant states of work, anxiety and stress stunted his growth to keep him from being a burly, fully grown man.
He placed some plates in front of he and his guest and began the interview while they sat, not wanting to waste any more time than he already had as it was getting quite late into the evening and almost into the wee hours of the morning.
"So..." he began, "I collect you're from France? Or mayhaps you just like to look like a mime." He took at bite of his food, chewed slowly and swallowed. "You know this job doesn't pay well and may be dangerous right?" Dark hues looked toward the red shirted, with makeup a particular bear would envy, male in front of him. He still hadn't spoken even tho spoken to...maybe being a mime wasn't just a profession..."This job entails more than written on the ad I'm afraid," Wilson continued without nary a glance towards the mime, "you'll have to do all the domestic chores, sometimes be subjected to tests and also assist with experiments. Are you sure you are alright with this?"
A small sighed left him once again. His special reserve clothes would have to do, at least just for tonight. He took out a sleek, black suit jacket and gingerly touched it with his thin, pale fingers.
He never quite understood his fascination with this one particular suit, but it was special to him and usually only worn on particular occasions. This would be the first time he'd wear this on a not so special occasion but that was as much his fault as it was his unexpected guest's fault.
He traced the outline of his suit. The lapel was peaked, he liked the sharp look it gave it. The double back vents, as was usually a standard in british suits. The jetted pockets would give a sense of formality, always a good and classy addition to any suit. Wilson shrugged on his white shirt and his vest and pulled the jacket on, buttoning it and quaffed his tie.
He slid on his black socks, as well as, his pressed pants.
He looked good, he always looked good in this suit.
To finish the outfit he took out his favorite black wingtip shoes and his dark coloured gloves. Spiffy and formal, almost too formal and he hoped it wouldn't scare off his new possible assistant. The lack of clothes had forced him to don his most favorite of clothing. He supposed that one be one of the chores his assistant could be in charge of. The pay was paltry but it was a live in job so the assistant would at least have a roof over their heads and food on the table. When thinking about the theoretical food on the table his stomach growled loudly in protest. He had opted to bathe instead of eating and was quite peckish now.
He sighed in defeat. Instead of a nice cup of tea, perhaps a meal was also in order with the tea.
He opened the door and walked promptly down the stairs and nodded in acknowledgement to the other sitting down awaiting him. Wilson's click clack of his shoes could be heard echoing through the hallway till they stopped in front of this kitchen. Tea was one thing. Tea was an easy-to-create thing as all British lads and lasses were apt at tea.
Dinner on the other hand... may not turn out so well. Dinner was hopefully another thing that his (possible) assistant would hopefully be helpful at, seeing as he was hopefully of French descent; not trying to be stereotypical, just hopeful, as Wilson quite enjoyed a decent French meal.
Sounds of clinks and clanks, scraping and even blowing up could be heard in from the hallway. Sparks of light would glimmer and cease to exist. Wilson treated cooking like science, why wouldn't the recipe be correct if he followed it closely and correctly?
He pushed out a makeshift serving cart that actually served as a surgical tool table with the food and tea table waved the other to come to the dinner table.
He groaned as the table was full of notebooks, books, pencils, cataloging equipment and the like and brushed it all to the side.
The placements of the tea and food were correct, although the food itself appeared less than appetizing being burnt in several places and probably raw and cold in others. A slight black aura oozed from the food making look that much more delectable. Whenever Wilson did manage to pull himself out of his work to cook it was always like this. It wasn't the most delectable thing in the universe but it was at least "edible" and by far, this was the best creation yet, the best looking food he had ever attempted to make and he was quite proud.
Wilson hadn't died from anything... yet. He may have had a few stomachaches, fever, dysentery here and there but that never stopped him from attempting to feed himself. Sadly this was probably one of the few reasons that Wilson stayed so skinny and young for his age.
Malnourishment, lack of sleep, and constant states of work, anxiety and stress stunted his growth to keep him from being a burly, fully grown man.
He placed some plates in front of he and his guest and began the interview while they sat, not wanting to waste any more time than he already had as it was getting quite late into the evening and almost into the wee hours of the morning.
"So..." he began, "I collect you're from France? Or mayhaps you just like to look like a mime." He took at bite of his food, chewed slowly and swallowed. "You know this job doesn't pay well and may be dangerous right?" Dark hues looked toward the red shirted, with makeup a particular bear would envy, male in front of him. He still hadn't spoken even tho spoken to...maybe being a mime wasn't just a profession..."This job entails more than written on the ad I'm afraid," Wilson continued without nary a glance towards the mime, "you'll have to do all the domestic chores, sometimes be subjected to tests and also assist with experiments. Are you sure you are alright with this?"
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