r o | e p | a y s a m p | e s . . . ; ;

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Male Student Regular Post

a n d yx[ F I N C H ] van derxr o o r k

What G O E T H E never said - - -


Oh dear. Now I sound like a total jerk. I basically made light of the entire idea of being here, and it was not a Lethifold after all. I can see that now. Finch was floored. He had thought the teachers were so competent. They could stop any attack, he had thought. He'd thought that nothing bad would happen to him, or to any of his fellow witches and wizards. Unfortunately that wasn't the case.

He heard the angry, violent strings of curses coming from the mouths of most of the super-Marauders. Victoire, Rose, Georgianna. They were all supremely mad, be it at the Marauders' heads or at the Death Eaters'. Finch decided not to make any rash decisions. To be honest, he didn't really think it was anyone's fault to begin with.

The Ravenclaws seemed to be mostly level-headed. At least, those who weren't freaking out and rearing at the bit trying to get at the Slytherins ( such as Rose, for instance ). There were Nathan and Owen, who seemed to think that the easiest way to handle the problem was to consider there to be no problem at all. Finch was actually much in agreement with them. He mentally echoed the best-sounding idea at the moment.

Maybe the kid just ran off someplace, got lost in the Forbidden Forest. God knew how many rooms and secrets and staircases the castle held by itself. It was entirely plausible, right? Katelyn seemed worried, though, and Finch leaned across the table to pat the back of her hand lightly. "Befürchten Sie, mein schöner Freund nicht. Alles wird sich Geldstrafe herausstellen," he whispered with a little half-smile in Tara's direction as well. "Do not fear, my beautiful friend. Everything will turn out fine."

Of course, the Hufflepuffs didn't seem to think so, and Finch understood that entirely. The child- Eddy Watkins, was it? Walbrook? Walters?- was of their own House, after all. When Georgianna flew at James Potter ( Go get him, girl! ), Finch seemed to know that she was just worried for the rest of her House. Sure, it was one little boy, but that one little boy could be a symbol of the horrors yet to come towards the other Badgers.

Maria seemed to be thinking quite rationally, which was a good sign. Maybe if the House had a few more students like her, they could calm down the rest of the easily excitable students of Hufflepuff and maybe start to get some answers. Finch had a feeling that everyone in the upper years would be questioned, not just the ones that were known to identify with one side or another. He hated that there were sides at all, and he hoped he wouldn't be forced to pick. The nonsense just needed to end.

Those Lions were so easily excitable, maybe even more so than the Hufflepuffs. However, the Gryffindor kind of excitement was more of a "let's take action- we'll just blow everyone up!" way of thinking than a "we need to do something about this- let's think about a strategy" kind of thing. Hate was a very strong word, and Finch liked to think that there was far too much of it in the school as it was, but he really, really, really did not like some of the Gryffindors.

Junnifer was beautifully energetic, Annabella was wonderfully honest, Laurent was coolly outgoing, and Sabine was just a delight. But there were the types of people Finch could not stand, like James and Lucy. Of course, he had to respect the Head Girl, so Lucy could pass sometimes. But James just irritated Finch, and for practically no reason. So when Georgianna became a living Oppugno spell, Finch could not help but snicker into his collar.

Then there were the Slytherins. It was almost laughable at how nonchalant they all were. Alex was still eating, as was that one Felicia-May. Skye and a few others had disappeared, obviously deeming the rest of the feast unworthy of their time. And to call it a feast was a huge misnomer- because the word 'feast' implied a celebration, holiday, or happy occasion, none of which were actually occurring at that moment. But some of the Slytherins were acting like this was just any other dinner. And it was quite unfortunate. Sure, Finch wanted to act like this was any other accident. But he just couldn't.

This was probably more serious than some students were making it out to be. "What are we going to do? Actually, let me rephrase that. Can we do anything at all? Finch had no traces of a smile now. Tapping the tips of his feet impatiently against the floor of the Great Hall, he bit his lip, clutching one hand tightly in the other. He brought one hand up to brush his blonde hair away from the middle of his forehead, but clenched them back together a split-second after. He blinked a few times at Sabine, grinned for a flash of a moment, then moved his eyes downward again, moving his fork to scoop up some corn. This was getting dangerous, and Finch did not like it at all.



t h e talks you [ NEVER ] had,
the saturdays you never spent,
all the [ G R O W N - U P ] places
you never w e n t x ✗

[Wendla Bergmann]

Disney Character-Based School RP Female Character Intro Post

clemente's own [ 'demented peruvian princess' ]

i ' l l xx t u r n xx h i m xx i n t o xx a xx f l e a , xx a xx h a r m l e s s xx l i t t l e xx f l e a .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx p u t xx t h a t xx f l e a xx i n xx axx b o x .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx p u t xx t h a t xx b o x xx i n s i d e xx o f xx a n o t h e r xx b o x .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx m a i l xx t h a t xx b o x xx t o xx m y s e l f , xx a n d xx w h e n xx i t xx a r r i v e s ,
i ' l l xx s m a s h xx i t xx w i t h xx a xx h a m m e r ! !
______________________________________

Crazy-a** Y Z M A : Inelle [ Beltaine ] Sheridan

It was probably a quarter until eight. Darkness was the only thing flowing through the windows. Curtains the colour of eggplants were drawn, blocking everything but the faint square outline of daylight from the kitchen. A tiny, glowing lightbulb lit up the corner of the room, flickering off as a pale, thin hand flipped the switch to face the linoleum flooring. "Yes, papa, yes, of course. Yes, I ate breakfast- it was eggs on toast, papa, yes. Yes, my bag is ready- a notebook for each class, papa, yes. Yes, papa, I won't be taking the bus- yes, papa, my car has gas. Yes, papa, I paid for it," Inelle snipped to herself, clutching her cherry-red patent leather tote close to her body as she walked out the door of her house, tugging on the doorknob to make sure the door was locked. If he had asked any and all of those questions, I would not be less annoyed than if he hadn't, like now. Inelle was tired of her father basically holing himself up in his study, not even coming out to say goodbye or good luck to her on her first day of school. However, it wasn't as if she wasn't used to it- Roger rarely said two words to her in an entire week.

Pressing a button on an automatic key in her palm, Inelle unlocked the driver's-side door to her clean white Dodge Avenger Tuner Stormtrooper. It was indeed a flashy car, but that did not nearly satiate Inelle's appetite for originality. To be frank, her car was nowhere near the oddest thing about her. Her... 'style,' if one could call it that, was (to be put mildly) eccentric. Right now she was wearing one of her more 'normal' outfits. Bright red motorcycle boots pushed the gas pedal on Inelle's Dodge, snug but still stocky over rainbow tights. A black lace tutu matched the frilly black-lace-bow hair accessory that was clipped to her brown hair a few inches over her left ear. Moving one hand off the wheel dangerously, Inelle tugged up the top of an ivory-white corset, which she wore over a faded red tee. So she could navigate the road, back knit armwarmers left her fingers free, whose nails, in turn, were painted with neon-yellow (almost highlighter-coloured) nail polish.

It wasn't that she liked to blatantly stand out, it was that she didn't want to be forgotten. Inelle already got way too much of that at home. She doubted there would even be food in the refrigerator if she didn't grab a hundred dollar bill out of Daddy's wallet once a week to go out and buy groceries. He was always either at work or in his study, which was ridiculous and quite disappointing. Birthdays and holidays were a b***h especially, particularly when classmates giggled and squealed about their vacation plans, ideas for what to do over the weekend, and such. It even was horrible when they complained that, "Oh, my dad is making me go to some stupid thing with him, so I can't go to the mall. It sucks, right?" Inelle only wished her father was more attentive. It was like she didn't exist to him anymore. What she would give for him to call her his Bella one more time... As the saying went, you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone. And despite the fact that she had hated when Roger used to call her by that nickname, Inelle really actually missed it now.

Ines was what her name used to be, and Ine was what her mother used to call Inelle. It was worse that her father didn't pay any attention to her anymore because of the fact that Inelle knew that he still could. What she wasn't quite sure of was why and how her mother actually began to lose her mind. When wasn't a question, because she was probably around seven or eight years old. Where was obviously Chicago. Chita would never again be the beautiful Peruvian woman she was when Roger met her in the Andes. The adjustment was just too much for her to bear, apparently. And that broke Inelle's heart, just knowing that maybe, if her father hadn't tried to 'help,' she would be living in the Andes with Chita and the rest of the villagers. She wouldn't have to hide things. She would live without secrets and without this horrible tie to Hercules* keeping her from just cutting her losses now. She would like boys primarily. She wouldn't have to like anyone, just marry and/or reproduce with a boy her mother and the matchmakers chose.

As Inelle pulled out of her reverie, she neatly pulled into a parking space fairly near the front of the school. Pressing her bare fingers against the heating fan on the left side of the dashboard, just to the right of the steering wheel, she shivered a little. She flipped down the overhead mirror, reapplying pitch-black mascara and cherry-red lipstick. Her appearance finally passing her sharp-eyed scrutiny, Inelle slammed open the door to her Dodge, closing it much more quietly after pulling her patent-leather-red bag out after her. Clutching it close to her body either for warmth or for comfort, Inelle locked the car doors and walked through the front gate of Clemente. She spied that Zinnia girl in front of Alice and her boyfriend what's-his-name (Trevor?), looking awkward as anything. She saw Sebastian and Élodie sharing coffees on a different bench, looking decidedly less awkward. Then there was Inelle, holding her bag flush against her chest as she walked through the school. She wished someone she knew were there. If not Scar*, then at least Hercules*.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Disney Character-Based School RP Female Character Regular Post

clemente's own [ 'demented peruvian princess' ]

i ' l l xx t u r n xx h i m xx i n t o xx a xx f l e a , xx a xx h a r m l e s s xx l i t t l e xx f l e a .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx p u t xx t h a t xx f l e a xx i n xx axx b o x .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx p u t xx t h a t xx b o x xx i n s i d e xx o f xx a n o t h e r xx b o x .
a n d xx t h e n xx i ' l l xx m a i l xx t h a t xx b o x xx t o xx m y s e l f , xx a n d xx w h e n xx i t xx a r r i v e s ,
i ' l l xx s m a s h xx i t xx w i t h xx a xx h a m m e r ! !
______________________________________

Crazy-a** Y Z M A : Inelle [ Beltaine ] Sheridan

Inelle smiled with half of her face, her eyes half-lidded as the smoke plumes floating from Seth's cigarette wafted in front of her nose. She inhaled deeply, sucking in the clear majority of a drag off his cigarette. Most likely no one knew that she loved the smell of smoke- be it barbecue smoke, firewood smoke, or cigarette smoke. It was something she had to live with if she wanted to be one of Seth's acquaintances/friends/accomplices, whatever word people chose to describe their relationship.

They were `dating,` but Inelle knew it was only to make Mulan* jealous. So it was primarily to others that they looked so scary as the two of them being so tall and looking down their noses at everyone all the time. Yes, she had kissed him. Yes, it was wonderful. Yes, she had not hesitated to spread the fear of their power. Inelle didn't know if Mulan* was aware, but it was sure that Seth was an extremely handy person to hold onto.

Now, Garrett was a different story. He was absolutely irresistible to everyone who met him- aside from the bitches who thought he was either mentally handicapped or had Tourette's ( which in their feeble minds, much to Inelle's entertainment, were two entirely different things ). The only thing wrong with him was that if someone had OCD ( or even barely-there traces of OCPD like Inelle ), it would be physiologically impossible to be near him. The boy radiated disorganisation, be it his clothes, his room, his backpack, et cetera, et cetera. Being a crappy organiser was one of the bad things Garrett had to his name.

But being entirely good-looking, strong, and a trickery-oriented Cheshire-Cat, everything else just blew the girls away. Unless that girl was Zinnia, who was absolutely ******** clueless when it came to the fact that Garrett was head-over-heels for her. However, Inelle landed on the good side of all of these relationships. She relaxed as she realised how good it must look that she was flanked by Seth- practically-mafia-material bad-boy hot- and Garrett- all-American except for the Irish sports-star hot.

Chuckling at Seth's urgency to absolutely destroy the titchy freshmen, or whoever just happened to get in his way, Inelle rested a hand lightly on his arm. "Darlin', just you wait. There will be plenty of freshmen to terrorise sooner or later. And there are always the early-birds who are so..." she scrunched up her nose in mock excitement, grinning like nobody's business- "... Eager to get to class early and butter up their teachers so they can get their very own front-row seat!" Inelle clapped in faux delight, the cheesy grin slipping off her face faster than rain down a pane of glass.

She turned to Garrett, moving a lock of hair from in front of his face so it was aligned perfectly with the rest of his good-boy-messy ginger hair. Smiling contentedly at him, Inelle felt almost... motherly. It was somewhat sickening. But she felt responsible for these boys, be it to support their dreams or to support herself so she wasn't ever broken again. It felt obligatory that she take care of them as best she could. Otherwise, who knew what would happen? Plus, Inelle's status at Clemente would drop faster than Tristan's grade point average on a week where he just got a new stash.

"Sweetie, when are you gonna learn to take care of yourself? How can you expect to catch Zinnia's eye at all if you're putting yourself out there looking like a complete schmuck? Now, lucky I'm here, or you wouldn't have a clue what to do, now, would you." Inelle hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder so it wouldn't fall and turned Garrett towards her, standing on the balls of her feet so she could smooth out his shirt and expertly ruffle his hair a bit, zipping up his backpack, all so he would look presentable. Looking him up and down, she nodded her approval in a `well, it'll do` kind of way. She bit her lip and yawned some. Pulling out her compact, she checked her own reflection. Deeming herself acceptable, she closed the mirror with a -snap!- and held her head back up.

It was shocking that Garrett was taller than Inelle- not too many people were- but he was a whole six inches taller, which was saying something. She'd actually gotten him more than a few times a couple of years back by asking him, "How tall are you now?" to which he'd reply "Five feet eleven inches," or however tall he was at the time. She would then follow up with a deadpan, "Why don't we forget about the five feet and focus on the eleven inches?" Which would get him blushing to no end. It was hilarity. But after The Incident ( capitalisation entirely necessary ) she had no interest in... that at all. Well, not with Garrett. Even with the whole Incident looming over her, she still felt some affection for the guy. But only in a motherly/sisterly way. Not a I-wanna-jump-your-bones way.

Now, Seth was different. Sure, he was hard, and cold, and predatorial, but damn. He was absolutely to all ends attractive. Now, this was what sucked: he was totally and completely hung up on Mulan*. Inelle could suppress those feelings whenever she wanted, but the fact was- she jumped on the chance to make Mulan* jealous simply to be able to legitimately know what it would be like to be half of the antagonistic power couple at Clemente. But then, there was always this one specific girl... but no one knew about that. So Inelle had to be content with fake-dating Seth. Which, to be honest, she was. Quite very much so, actually.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Female Student Intro Post

slytherin's own [ 'jupiter supremacist' ]

s u p e r b o y xx a n d xx t h e xx i n v i s i b l e xx g i r l , xx s o n xx o f xx s t e e l xx a n d xx d a u g h t e r xx o f xx a i r
h e ' s xx a xx h e r o , xx a xx l o v e r , xx a xx p r i n c e , xx s h e ' s xx n o t xx t h e r e
______________________________________

Chaser Rat

Felicia-May crossed one leg over the other, smoothing down the half-itchy but not entirely unpleasant-feeling grey wool school skirt that went with the uniform. She didn't forget to put on her uniform, exactly, because all the pieces were still there. She had the green-outlined grey crocheted vest over her long-sleeved button-down, the Mary Jane shoes and the House tie. The whole ensemble was there, essentially. It was just that she didn't wear her Slytherin robes on top. They were just so bothersome. If you wanted something black and bulky to flap off you as if you were some kind of ultra-demented supervillain, then wear a cape or a cloak. But really, robes were entirely unnecessary. Feli-May was wearing green tights under the skirt, too, so she wasn't exactly flashing anyone, either. She was raised with more pride and prudence than that. But as she'd learned over time, if you've got it, flaunt it. Holding up one hand to her face, she inspected her nails about three inches away from her face. Ugh, they're all uneven.

If anyone who passed by, in their haste to get to the Great Hall, wondered what she was doing sitting by herself on a cement bench a few hundred metres from the large wooden doors, they didn't vocalise it. So Felicia-May thought it fairly useless for her to express her desire to watch everyone who filed into the Great Hall (late, she might add) until she caught a glimpse of some people who really mattered. Deciding to avoid embarrassment and public humiliation, she made up her mind to wait in the corridor until the Headmistress made her announcement. She would be able to hear her, anyway, the great rich wooden doors were so wide open. All Feli-May had to do now was wait for McGonagall to shush the crowd and tell everyone what was going on. Feli-May tried to quell the maternal instinct inside her that made her want to comfort a few overly frazzled first years. They had to learn sometime, and what's the harm in showing it to them now rather than later? She hadn't gained or lost anything by knowing the world's fear and heartache early in life.

Professor McGonagall wasn't exactly in her prime. She must be nearly two hundred years old by now. However old she was, she still had the same disposition and attitude that she had when Felicia-May's (and every other non-Muggleborn wizard at Hogwarts) parents had attended the school. She heard all the little Potters and Weasleys talking a few times about how McGonagall used to teach Transfiguration, and how nobody dared to muck around or goof off in her class. She was the kind of woman who commanded respect and good behaviour without even uttering a word, and that in itself made an impact on Felicia-May's opinion of her. Now, Professor Longbottom and Professor Trelawney were a different story. Professor Longbottom was on good terms with most of his students (because, really, to be honest, he was quite good-looking, along with firm) and allowed talking and other trivialities, but no nonsense could ever happen. He was that sort of nice teacher that let kids do what they wanted, as long as they completed their assignments. And as for Professor Trelawney? Well, to put it lightly... her class was on the batshit road to ultimate chaos and disorder.

The din quietened down in the Great Hall, and Felicia-May stopped chipping at her nails. As Headmistress McGonagall made the grim announcement, Feli-May felt a flash of lightning tremor up her spine. A second-year? Missing? Well, at least she sure as s**t knew it wasn't a Lethifold. As soon as she heard the clink and clatter of plates appearing, Felicia-May stood up, pulled down her skirt some, and walked into the Great Hall. Slinking along the wall and hoping the Headmistress wouldn't make a fuss, she inched her way to the Slytherin table, where everyone was eating as normal. She had to keep up appearances, anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem. Especially considering she was practically salivating at the mouth (as opposed to...?) at the sight of the various foods. She knew she should be less than impressed, as it was normal dinner and not a feast, but Feli-May had been out flying earlier (yes, with robes on) and went straight up to her dorm to do other things right after, until it was time for classes, which in themselves were physically draining.

Nodding her head slightly at Scorpius, who was sitting on the side facing the Ravenclaws, Felicia-May picked up a fork and twirled it between her fingers for a while. "So. Who do you think did it? Personally I think the kid just wandered off someplace. We don't know what kinds of s**t there is in the Forest. Well, we do, but really. Hufflepuffs aren't that bright to begin with, and a second year? Hardly something to worry about. He'll turn up eventually." Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies. As Feli-May well knew, some of the supposed 'duffers' in Hufflepuff were bright, some of which topping anything she'd seen. Well, one in particular. Scooting to the side a tad so as to get a better look at the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, she sighed. She bit her lip as she chewed a bite of garlic mashed potatoes. The Hufflepuff table was notably more somber in atmosphere, obviously due to the Headmistress' announcement. Felicia-May was sure that her seemingly offhand comment made her seem either incredibly naïve or incredibly blasé, neither of which she was feeling in the slightest.

She was a steadfast Death Eater, and nothing anyone said could change that. Everyone who knew her well (which was how many, about two or three? less than five, to be sure) knew the reason. Everyone knew that the Death Eaters were the most powerful group in the past two Wizarding Wars. The actions of only one person made them collapse, and that was due to the mistake of one person. This time, Felicia-May's one person decided she would lay the smackdown on the Marauders/Order of the Phoenix/whatever they decided to be this round. She felt that her one person was worth fifty of theirs, and that the Marauders could go and cry in a sad little corner. But this announcement was different to Feli-May. To tell the truth, she was actually worried- no, not worried, terrified- out of her entire mind, body, and soul. Sure, she sided with the 'evil' ones, but that didn't mean she was a single person embodying a whole antagonistic force. She had feelings like everyone else. She had her strengths. She had her talents. But she also had her weaknesses. And Felicia-May's weaknesses were Hufflepuffs.

However, to show that weakness was something so shameful that Feli-May felt it to be her job- no, her moral duty and obligation as a Slytherin to uphold the dignity that her house so deserved. She was Sorted into the House of silver and green for a reason, and that commanded a certain code of conduct. It was unspoken, yes, but she had no intention of behaving out of line. Felicia-May figured the rules were: One. Hate Gryffindors first, then Hufflepuffs, then Ravenclaws, then everyone else. Two. If you are not pureblooded, make sure you stay quiet. Or someone will get you. Three. Dating is restricted to either purebloods, or halfblooded Slytherins. Usually. Or at least that was how it used to be, she supposed. Alex was practically a Ravenclaw, considering how much he hung out with them, and Lacey was friends with Maria. Sure, Aimee and Skye (and sometimes mostly Scorpius) wouldn't touch anything other than a pureblooded Slytherin, but there were always the sub-zeroes. The frigid ones. And try as she might, Feli-May would never be frigid.

Making up her mind then and there, Felicia-May stood up forcefully, the prongs of her fork clenched between a few of her back teeth. To most, she might look simply as if she were enthusiastically making a point, or perhaps shouting angrily at someone opposite her. But her mouth was shut tight, and her bright coral lips were firmly pressed together. Digging her nails into the deep-coloured maybe-balsa wood of the Slytherin House table, she wondered if this was the right thing to do. She looked straight at her goal, but her eye caught on Professor McGonagall, who looked about ready to cut someone if they didn't go back to their respective tables. Of course, there were many, and then -WHOOSH- another (oh, no) Slytherin who probably should have been Gryffindor, the brains on him, dragged in on a broomstick. To top that off, McGonagall looked ready to reprimand Alex as well, only less sternly, as he was only conversing with the Ravenclaws (Nate and Roork looking a lot easier done than Elias, Tara, Rose, and Ravi). Felicia-May's woolen-skirt-clad bottom hit the bench again. She'd save her Hufflepuff-cavorting for a less eventful day.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Female Student Regular Post

slytherin's own [ 'jupiter supremacist' ]

s u p e r b o y xx a n d xx t h e xx i n v i s i b l e xx g i r l , xx s o n xx o f xx s t e e l xx a n d xx d a u g h t e r xx o f xx a i r
h e ' s xx a xx h e r o , xx a xx l o v e r , xx a xx p r i n c e , xx s h e ' s xx n o t xx t h e r e
______________________________________

Chaser Rat

"I'm not sure who did it, though you know who they're going to blame." Scorpius was definitely right, Felicia-May thought. Forking in one last bite of her food, she nodded vigorously. She swallowed hard when she realised some students were joking about how they wished they could have gotten to the kid first. God, could they be any more obvious in their ignorance? This only helped prove the point, because, to be frank, it was pretty dumb of them to even think that they could get away with that. But still, the ease with which they joked around should have helped their cause- anyone who played around like that in the face of such... Feli-May didn't want to say tragedy, but, well, an event, couldn't possibly be behind it. Right?

Felicia-May agreed with Scorpius, of course, but what absolute crap that was. Sure, the teachers were watching the Slytherins with eyes sharp and steady, but that didn't mean any of the other Houses weren't in on it. I mean, how do they know this whole thing wasn't staged? Wasn't Eddy Watkins on second string Quidditch for Hufflepuff? He could have flown somewhere far, far away and the Hufflepuffs could still know about it. However, Felicia-May had a vague feeling that thought was dead wrong. The Hufflepuffs were excitable, yes, but so were many members of the other Houses... Feli-May included. It hurt her to know that everyone around her was so disaffected, and she wanted to tell everyone ( or someone, at least! ) that she was pretty damn worried for the boy!

Felicia-May leaned to her left, trying to identify a Slytherin first year who looked worried. Comforting others would probably be helpful when it came down to it. Her careful gaze caught on a first year girl whose name Feli-May thought was Belinda. The girl looked as if she was ready to head out of the Hall, and it would be a good idea if she had an escort. Nodding curtly to her older Housemates, she stood up and walked over to the first year. She placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Do you want to come to the common room with me?" she murmured, trying to give the girl a steady smile. The brown-eyed girl nodded slowly and stood up. Felicia-May waved a hand and made her eyes widen in an inquiring way in Mr Radovan's general direction, who nodded vaguely.

Wondering what the right thing to do would be, Feli-May asked Belinda if she was feeling okay. "Well, I would be lying if I said yes." Her face remained serious and her eyes remained sad, and one hand came up to her mouth so she could chew on a nail. The first year looked up at Felicia-May but her eyes dragged back down to her feet after a few seconds. She seemed to really be upset. "Did you know him?" Belinda's face contorted, and Feli-May decided to take that as a yes. Running her tongue across the outside of her teeth, Felicia-May took a second to figure out what to do. She furrowed her brow as they neared the common room, and her gaze snagged on a girl scrambling through into the dungeon.

Password, password... Feli-May hesitated a moment before declaring confidently, "Serpentine." The dungeon door swung open, even though it had just closed for that small scurrying girl. She gestured for Belinda to sit down in one of the chairs nearest the biggest greenish lamp. Felicia-May took the seat directly in front of her. "So..." she started slowly. The first year's face hardened. "So what? Yeah, I knew him. I liked him a lot, but you know, what do I know? I couldn't be friends with him. God, I didn't take him. I don't know who did." It was obvious Belinda didn't really want to talk. Or if she did, she wasn't going to. Her restraint was perfect for a Slytherin, and Feli-May figured that was why she was in Salazar's House.

"Fine. I just want you to know that I like a Hufflepuff too. It's okay, you know. So long as you handle it right. Because people are going to hate you for it. You just have to hate them first." Felicia-May cracked a full-faced smile at the girl, who smiled gently back. "You're right." Feli-May rolled her eyes in an 'I know' kind of way. Standing up and patting the first year on the head in a semi-condescending way, she headed across the common room. She made her way up the stairs, hollering into the sixth year girls' dorm to see if Emi was in there, as she hadn't seen her all afternoon. Shrugging her shoulders, Felicia-May continued on upstairs, opening the door to the seventh years' dorm room and snaking her way past all the other girls' crap on the floor to her bed. Och.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Female Student Intro Post

Tunםrα Mαrnι Goℓםвerg________________________________________❝τяυтн ιs вεαυтιғυℓ, ωιтнσυт ∂συвт; вυт sσ αяε ℓιεs.❞

Tundra hugged her knees to her chest, crossing the fingers of one hand over the other. It wasn't as if she were rocking back and forth or anything; she wasn't freaked out at all. It was just way, way more comfortable underneath the table than sitting in a chair, oddly.

Funnily enough, Tundra knew that if she were to crawl out from under the perfectly-crafted, perfectly smooth wooden desk, she would definitely scare whoever was out there. Was it... Tundra paused all movement, halting her breathing to see if she could hear any voices. Maria, definitely, and was that Dominic? And -mew-, that was Nathifa's cat, right? "You're too adorable." Yes, yes, it was Nathifa's Nicolae.

-ribbit- What? Tundra's hands unfurled from in front of her knees. -ribbit- There it was again. -ribbit- Okay, now it was getting annoying. Trying to stay as silent as possible, she pressed one hand against the carpeted floor of the Hufflepuff common room. As Nathifa's cat prowled and pounced along the floor, the soft little -ribbit-s got louder and much closer together. Tundra lifted herself onto all fours, preparing to leap out at whatever was making that noise.

Pausing for a moment, Tundra let her eyes roam around the carpet. Bronze orbs widened as, from under a round sofalike chair, hopped a tiny little toad. Rocko! Eyes darting around the floor to see if Nathifa's feet were far enough out of the way that she could leap out without hurting anyone, Tundra moved her hands to touch the floor at her sides. One, two...

Tundra shot out from under the desk, grabbing her pet toad before he could come to any harm. Of course, Nicolae wouldn't eat Rocko or anything, because he was Nathifa's cat, after all. He probably wouldn't hurt an ant. No, something smaller than an ant. A gnat. No, an amoeba. But Rocko was pretty squishy, and if someone stepped on him accidentally, Rocko would start going -squish- instead of -ribbit-.

"Ow!" Tundra winced as, instead of stopping after tightly gripping hold on Rocko, she continued moving and smashed clear into the corner of the fireplace. "Gosh gosh gosh ow!" Jagged-edged brick was not her friend today. Actually, it probably wasn't at the start of her term at Hogwarts, either.

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh I'm sorry I hope I didn't mess you up, Nathifa, did I? 'Cause if I did I'm so so sorry." Tundra stood up rapidly and dusted herself off quickly. She glanced down at the toad in hand, and shrieked. "Ah!" Rocko's eyes were bulging out of his tiny toad head, and she realised she was squeezing him far too hard. She dropped him onto a round cushion on a big, soft armchair and rubbed his back with two fingers.

"Oh oh Rocko I am so so sorry." Tundra cradled him in one cupped hand. "Um um I think I'll just go now, um. Oh God I missed dinner too huh? Oh gosh um I'll see you guys later okay!" Tundra practically tripped over herself trying to leave the common room, but made it out in one piece. Luckily enough, so did Rocko.

Murmuring softly to her ( presumably horrified ) toad, Tundra managed to turn left and then turn a corner to find the Great Hall's entrance. Actually entering the Great Hall without embarrassing herself too much, Tundra slid to a stop in front of where Professor Zeller was standing. "Hi Professor Zeller, um, could I please go sit at the Gryffindor table? I promise promise promise I'll be no trouble, please please?"

Professor Zeller frowned. "Yes, but Miss Goldberg, do you know what went on here? Besides, of course, you arriving very very tardy for dinner." Tundra shook her head no, carefully clutching Rocko. "A student has gone missing. Eddy Watkins, of our own House. We are trying to determine how this happened, but nobody knows anything as of yet." Tundra gasped.

"I know you would have nothing to do with this, but I know you tutored him in Care of Magical Creatures, so please, if any information turns up, just let us know." Nodding vigorously, Tundra headed over to the Gryffindor table. How could something like this happen? Seeing the faces on the Gryffindors' faces, Tundra automatically knew that they had no idea either.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Female Student Regular Post

Tunםrα Mαrnι Goℓםвerg________________________________________❝τяυтн ιs вεαυтιғυℓ, ωιтнσυт ∂συвт; вυт sσ αяε ℓιεs.❞

Tundra couldn't wait for later that Sunday. She had awoken as soon as she felt the first weak rays of the sun peeking through her eyelids. It was like a 'hey, wake up! today's a super special day!' greeting just for her. To: Tundra, From: The Sun. She had bounced out of bed, not caring whether she woke up Samantha, Maria, or any of the other girls, considering: one, she didn't know them that well; and two, it was the first Quidditch match of the year. Sleep was for losers. And for people who couldn't find the energy to wake themselves up.

Hopping around the girls' dorm and dressing quickly, she thundered down the stairs, wondering briefly what was for breakfast. Of course, in her haste to get downstairs, she skipped a few at the bottom and quickly found herself flying across the room, ramming straight into... Wadsworth. "Homaigod homaigod are you okay I'm sorry I'm sorry- Homaigod we have the game today are you excited I'm excited!" If there was one thing that wasn't Quidditch-related that Tundra was good at, it would be talking other peoples' ears off.

She sprung up almost immediately, dusting herself off quickly before trying to pull Wadsworth up. However, she gave up pulling because he was probably at least ten or twenty pounds heavier than she. At least. She didn't mind that she was so small, particularly because it allowed for speed and hiding in places no tall person could get to her. But it was definitely a hindrance when it came to a few things, pulling people onto their feet whom she had just knocked down included. Another bad thing about being so short was that she had a lot of trouble on the Quidditch pitch. Not that she sucked, or anything.

It was simply the fact that because she was small, her power wasn't always on par with everyone else's on the team. Even Wadsworth's swings would probably be a lot more effective than hers. But she had been training, so that was probably going to help her a lot on the pitch. And that was what Tundra had been aiming for. The practices had been effective, Captain Georgianna had made sure of that. Their strategy was strong, their formations down pat, and each player was in sync with every other player on the team. The only thing they had to worry about now was that maybe Slytherin would be stronger.

But Tundra knew that could never be. So she was even more excited now than earlier that morning. She pulled Rocko out from under one of the pouffes littering the common room and she kissed him on top of his little green toady head, pushing him in front of Wadsworth's face. Smiling brightly, she made Rocko give Wadsworth a little kiss on his nose, bringing him back to her hand and cradling him softly in her cupped palm. Rocko was certainly a wonder of a toad, considering how often he got lost and how entirely squishable his entire body was.

Tundra felt chipper, and she sat herself down on a pouffe, the one from under which she had grabbed Rocko. She looked back up at Wadsworth. "So, Wadsworth, are you ready are you ready for the game? We're going to be great, we'll beat Slytherin so bad they'll be running faster than a whore runs from church. But but but you look worried. Don't be worried, I told you I told you we'll be great we'll be fine, okay? We rock! We practiced practiced practiced." She leapt up and kissed him on the cheek briefly. "So don't freak out, okay okay?"

Sitting back down daintily, Tundra pressed Rocko to her cheek. I wonder what they have for breakfast. I hope they have mashed turnips... they taste like hope feels. Ooh, and hash browns... I'm feeling like hash browns and turnips. Yum yum yum, I wish Mum would make hash browns more often. Tundra's super-Jewish family ate a lot of vegetables, a lot of good, hearty food. Yet it did nothing for Tundra's stature? Please, there must have been something in that that prevented her growth.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Disney Character-Based School RP Male Character Intro Post

Craig's small body was swathed in his down-filled duvet as he huddled against the corner of his bed. His breaths came in an even rhythm, his ribs raising and lowering in a regular pattern. Black hair mussed and sticking up every which way, Craig unconsciously rubbed his head against the honey-coloured wooden bed frame. A clock on the wall opposite his bed glowed eight o'clock. Various muffled bumps and shouts came from the halls and bedrooms outside Craig's own, loud enough to be heard in the room, yet quiet enough not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Suddenly, a burst of music blasted out of a device clenched tightly in Craig's sleeping hand. "Keeping an eye on the world going by my window, taking my time," John Lennon's voice crooned at a volume quite unnecessary at this time of the day. Craig sat up and stretched as John sang about waking up. He fumbled to flip open his phone, a gold Motorola Krzr. Without opening his eyes, he rasped, "Hlr-" he coughed to clear his throat- "Hello?" That was a lot better. But who could possibly be calling at this time of morning? It was too early.

"Craig, time to get up," a voice chirped on the other side of the phone line. "You have school today, remember? It starts in forty minutes, hon. Now get up, Roo." It was Miss Marianna, Craig's ( and the other eight wards' ) foster mother. Craig sighed loudly, making sure the blast of air was received on the other side of the phone. "You could have come in and woken me up." Ha ha, no, she couldn't have. Craig was always unnecessarily violent and/or angry when people woke him up, and he tended to involuntarily lash out, whether it be with words or a clenched fist.

A sigh came from the other side, apparently in mocking response to his. "You know I couldn't. Now get up, or I will send Carey in to get you." She obviously considered this a very convincing threat, due to the confident tone in which she decide to declare this. It took quite a bit for Craig to get angry at any of his younger 'siblings.' However, Miss Marianna and Mr Oscar? Wasn't so difficult at all. Especially when they felt like the worst possible thing they could threaten him with was a hyperactive, twelve-year-old... well, Carey.

"Fine, Miss Marianna, I'm getting ready." He heard her click off the line. Craig growled to himself as soon as he'd pressed the 'exit call' button on the right side of the keypad on his phone. Dragging his duvet behind him as he wore it like a cape, he thanked God that his room was the only single out of all the wards'... and with its own bathroom, no less. He brushed his teeth, trying not to yawn and thus impaling himself in the cheek with the head of the toothbrush. It took Craig forever to do anything with his hair, but he managed to get it slightly reasonable-looking before crawling out to go to his closet.

He closed his eyes and stuck his hands into his closet, grabbing in one hand what felt like a shirt and, in the other hand, what felt like pants. Opening his eyes some, Craig looked at what he had chosen and pulled it on, not really bothering to see what it really looked like. He figured it was a pair of jeans and a flannel button-down shirt, which were actually almost the only things in his closet to begin with. It was an easy inference. He headed out the door after slipping on a pair of socks and his favourite sneakers, still clutching his duvet around his shoulders.

"Bye everyone," he yawned, and was responded to by a chorus of "Bye." "Bye!" "See you later, Craig!" and "Adios!"es. The only voice he didn't hear was seventeen-year-old Beverly's, and to be honest, he didn't mind. He hated her just as much as she hated him, so they stayed out of each other's way. Craig rubbed his eyes with one hand, yawning some more as he slowly made his way to school. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he texted Tristan. The sound of his phone beeping would probably kill him, but like hell if Craig cared.



Quote:

t- i'm nearly at school. who you with? if you say alice, man, i am kind of not in the mood for her right now- wiped, but not in your sense of the word. but i'm tired as hell so it shouldn't matter. i mean, i love the chick, but it's like... she's so cheery. but dude, if she has cupcakes today, tell her i want first choice. unless you already took some. but i digress. meet you at that one bench by that one tree. you know the one, right? k, whatever. see you. -c



Craig could barely keep his eyes open as he trudged on his way to school. He arrived at the school, blinking a few times to see if anyone he knew was there already- apparently he'd arrived just in time to see Makenna Edwards, of all people, purring something probably obscene into Theodore Rawlin's mind. She was made of the most s**t, fire, and brimstone of anyone he had ever met, ever. Craig's mind tuned out of what he just saw for a second and he had a brief but vivid fantasy involving himself and Makenna, during which he stabbed her repeatedly with household objects.

Until she was dead. Good times. [********] he hissed under his breath. He could feel his eyes burning, and now he actually told his body to refuse to close. His hands clutched the deep purple duvet so hard his knuckles were white, but he just stood there. That was something Craig was good at. Standing and doing absolutely nothing, that's all I'm good at. Swallowing deeply so it was more like a choked gulp, he cut his eyes at Makenna as he moved to a bench near her group. Keep your enemies closer, right?

[Wendla Bergmann]

Disney Character-Based School RP Male Character Intro Post

Quote:

Hey Craig. No one at the moment. Alice is off with Kam. Sorry, no cupcakes today. I'm already at the bench, thank God. I'm 'wiped'... in your sense. I don't think I can even handle standing to move right now. Let's hope school doesn't start sooner than 8:30. See you. I guess. -T



Craig's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he loosened his grip on the corner of his comforter to pull it out of his pocket. As soon as he finished reading the text from Tristan, he craned his neck to try and see where his friend was sitting. However, Makenna and Theo and everyone there were in his line of vision. Giving Theo one last glance, wishing him to look at him for a split second, Craig stood up slowly and made his way over to the bench where Tristan was sitting. Lucky for T, Craig was in a semi-social mood.

"Hey T. I was pretty disappointed to hear that there were no cupcakes. You do realise that's the only reason I let you keep her around." Craig paused for a second, waiting to see if Tristan would react. He sat down next to him. "Just kidding. But God, whose idea was it to make maths first period?" He yawned and drew his knees to his chest, pulling the duvet tight around him. He figured he looked like a little purple meatball, considering the mess that was currently his hair.

He nestled in closer to Tristan's side. He loved to do that, and he hoped Tristan didn't mind. It wasn't so much sexual as it was comforting. Miss Marianna was always too busy, and like hell if Mr Oscar cared a whit about any of his wards that were older than twelve. Everyone else in the house was bigger, but none of them would let him near enough for enough time to let him do that. Maybe he just needed to grow. He was too damn short. Craig closed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip. He knew there must be something wrong with him.

Craig wondered whether Theo even knew that he existed. Probably not, he figured, because who wants to be friends with the kid who can never wake up? Especially when the object of his affection was energy and hyperactivity personified. And how could he, Craig, sleeper extraordinaire, ever make an impression on a guy like Theo, when girls like Makenna were doing so well on their own. Craig flinched, but snuggled in closer to himself and Tristan. Even thinking her name made him want to burn things vehemently. Homaigod indeed.

[Wendla Bergmann]

Harry Potter-based Female Student Intro Post

xxxxxxxxhouse of gryffindor ⇠
oh beautiful, for smoggy skies, insecticided grain.

Donna had woken up that morning excited as anything. Well, not at first, because she woke up several minutes before dawn every day. But later, when she was more awake, she was excited. At dawn she had made her way out of the seventh year Gryffindor girls' dorm, barefoot and still in her pajamas (one hundred percent recycled cotton, of course), out of even the main grounds until she was at the perfect spot. She had done this every morning since third year, even on holiday and classless days, because in third year she found out how beautiful it was. Donna had touched her toes, then stretched her arms all the way up into the sky, she felt. Closing her eyes and standing perfectly still, she could feel the Earth's rotation, and she resisted the urge to sway, because that would give her a headache. But she saluted the sun until it was all the way up in the sky, when she padded back to the dorm and found herself to still be the only girl up.

The excitement was unbearable; Donna could barely contain herself. Of course, most of the students were feeling the same, but for a different reason, she assumed. The Quidditch match was today, which was why all the students were hopped up and hyper and ready to greet the world with a big, shiny, happy face. Donna was as well, but her position on the issue was most likely radically different than the other students'. It had taken her ages to figure out how to word everything, but she had written endless amounts of letters to Professor McGonagall since her fifth year. She pulled out a quill (made from a raven that was found dead) and recycled parchment once a week, and every Sunday night she would write the Headmistress a letter stating her position on Quidditch and why it should be abolished from the school.

That's right- Donna hated Quidditch with a passion. Her main goal in life was to get it outlawed, even if only at school. Her opinion- no, her research made it clear how bad and what horrors Quidditch did to the environment. Imagine how many trees had to die for all of the brooms for the teams- seven per team, which meant twenty-eight brooms, plus the referee's, twenty-nine, and whatever brooms were in the Quidditch storage at Hogwarts, which were probably about seven in number, thirty-five, and whatever students who weren't on the teams' brooms, round that, that's about fifty. And if there were fifty brooms at Hogwarts, that would be approximately twenty-five trees dead. And if each of those trees were healthy and unaffected by chemicals, that was twenty-five lives lost.

So this year, Donna decided to take a stance. She had prepared the proper Sonorus charm, with a little assistance from Victoire Weasley, and was all ready for the first operation of SOTWTMTQIAB, which was not-so-short shorthand for the Society Of Those With The Mindset That Quidditch Is A Biohazard, a group started by Donna in favour of her issue. Not my issue, an issue that everyone at Hogwarts should be concerned with! So Donna was prepared to take a stand at the Quidditch game today. She didn't even know who was playing, but it would be a good opportunity to find some recruits! Maybe if she found a few first years that were eager enough, she could teach them early so they wouldn't harm the earth as much as they possibly could!

Donna was practically dancing in her seat all day until the match was due to start. When the clock finally struck thirteen minutes 'til, she sprang up and bolted out the door, running as fast as her bamboo-sandaled feet could carry her. Which was actually quite fast, when one was also considering her legs contributed a significant amount to her height (which happened to be six feet five inches). Everything was pretty much a blur after that- her Sonorus charm worked, at least in the matter of achieving her goal of yelling chants at a level where the spectators would still be able to hear Ravi commentate. Donna also vaguely remembered various hexes and objects thrown at her, which she did not appreciate. She wasn't sure, but she thought that at least half came from the red and gold side of the stands.

Not discouraged, Donna had decided to head back directly after the game. According to which side was cheering, she figured that the good guys won- she didn't even know who was playing. But she didn't particularly care, for Quidditch was a violent, gruesome sport that was also bad for the environment. Unfortunately, nobody had cared much for her cause, as proven by the hexes and objects Donna had to survive being thrown at her. And on top of that, she still had to make up her mind about what she was going to do on Halloween- would she go to the party? And if so, would she even bother bringing a date? "That's not a problem. Who needs a date- it's only masochism gussied up as love."

good [ M O R N I N G ] starshine, the { E A R T H } says [ H E L L O ] ┅ ┅ ┅ ☆

[Wendla Bergmann]

Original Big-Company Female Character Intro Post

Audrey Sherimaine Gerstenxxxxxxxx


Audrey stretched her arms out wide; she was still tired, even though she had been shaken awake over six hours ago by a very annoyed-sounding Hispanic woman, who hissed curse words in Spanish and almost threw Audrey's BlackBerry at her face. A series of 'urgent' phone calls from her best friend back in Michigan flashed on the screen. That was what set Alejandrina all in a tizzy? Well, that was what Audrey got for not turning it off during the night. She could blame her parents, who insisted she keep it on in case of emergencies, but they most likely would not accept the blame for her drowsiness during the day. Sure, a caffeine rush would be good for an hour or two, but it wouldn't be worth the crash later. Coffee was garish- there was no way she would touch the stuff. She'd contentedly sipped at her chai tea at around nine, but that, too, was long gone.

At least GerstenCorp was doing well. Or so Audrey had thought. Her mother and father had spontaneously announced a press conference for an inter-company bond. It was odd; how out-of-the-ordinary could the company get? Sure, they were a large corporation, but GerstenCorp had always done surprisingly well on their own. There were thousands, if not millions, of everyday investors, as well as all the big-shot owners of other companies who were either shareholders or offered their services and employees to assist Audrey's parents in maintaining the establishment. Yet today, their decision seemed snap. Audrey, however, knew that everything her parents chose to do was well thought out and intricate. But why, she wondered, would they keep a new syndicate relationship secret from her? This Audrey didn't understand.

So when Alejandrina had mentioned the press conference, Audrey had dashed to grab a worm-silk headscarf and large sunglasses. She'd hopped on her bicycle and pedalled as fast as she could to the building where the conference, she'd been told, was taking place. Luckily only a few reporters tried to overtake her, plaguing her with questions about old-fashioned ideas such as marriage uniting countries- but in this case, apparently, two companies. None of these queries Audrey understood nor answered, instead deciding to impede the media's annoying persistence by using her "handy-dandy" can of pepper spray. When she arrived at the building, she was quite unimpressed. Brick and blank granite, it certainly wasn't the most attractive place in the world, but the discretion may have been exactly what GerstenCorp needed.

Upon entering the bland structure, Audrey was ushered into a room empty but for an ancient, rumbling AC and an equally ancient television set. And a certain- bleeding, but still recognisable- other heir to another prominent corporation. None other than a bored-looking Thaddius Beale. "Oh, Thaddius. So, it's with Beale Enterprises, then. What can B.E. possibly offer GerstenCorp that's not entirely environment-destroying? Wait a second..." Audrey stopped her stream of pure sarcasm to allow for a pregnant pause. Eyeing the peeling, off-white wall paint with disdain, she continued dryly, "I think you know what comes next? In my miniature tirade, of course. For even I don't know what exactly my parents intend with this inter-business union. I don't expect you do, either." She glanced at the television, currently blaring a nasally anchor's take on current events.

Realising she had probably irritated Thaddius more than he already was, Audrey sat down in the unoccupied, uniquely-upholstered plush chair next to Thaddius' chair. Silk scarf already removed, she smoothed her windswept hair a bit before biting her lip and staring at the screen. With each passing moment, her apprehension grew significantly. Her blue eyes flicked between the pixellated screen of the TV and Thaddius' cloth-covered face. Audrey wondered if it was ever going to start.