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[1x1 RP] *Sky Marshal Practice*

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Sifen Yamishi

Vampire

PostPosted: Sun May 10, 2015 4:11 pm


This is a 1x1 RP between myself and Lawrence Eugene, using our characters. You may view this, but you may not post in it.
PostPosted: Sun May 10, 2015 5:02 pm



User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.Name: Ming 'Firearm' Chen
Age: 25
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: None of your goddamn business
Hair Color: Black, but varies as he wears wigs
Eye Color: Dark brown
Orientation: Gay
Ethnicity: Chinese

As a young kid, Ming always gravitated towards weaponry in every shape or form possible. He tired to hold onto the belief that being queer was wrong and immoral, but hiding it proved difficult. It ended up having him running away from home and hiding out in the streets. This was how he learned of patrols who would do odd jobs for others so they could make their way in the world.

Finding a rusted out pistol in a garbage heap downtown, Ming began to work on not only his confidence, but his weaponry skills.

Sifen Yamishi

Vampire


TheCreatureOfHabit
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PostPosted: Mon May 11, 2015 1:32 pm


User ImageXXName: Lawrence Radoš Whittacker
XXAge: 25
XXHeight: 5' 2"
XXWeight: Fair enough.
XXHair Color: Black/Dark Brown.
XXEye Color: Blue-gray.
XXOrientation: Flying Ace, but does it really matter? Nahhhh~
XXEthnicity: 1/2 Virginian, 1/2 Czech-American

Lawrence was raised by struggling parents who were forced to flee their dream home after the ill deeds of their fellow settlers caused a curse to fall upon the township. After they worked themselves to the bone for the sake of their son's medical schooling, they were informed by their loving son that he would reclaim their homestead so they could spent the last years of their life in the country as proud farmers and homeowners.

Unfortunately, Lawrence was out of his depth and was unable to clear the curse from the settlement before his parents died. His promise unfulfilled yet pointless, Lawrence began wandering through life until, one day, he was just lost enough to find the Sky Marshals. While unable to emotionally connect to anyone beyond a simple "Good day, sir," due to his many years on his own, Lawrence's stalwart fighting prowess and ruthless attack strategy conflicts well with his good-cop attitude and has earned him a place among the other marshals.
PostPosted: Wed Jun 10, 2015 10:25 pm


Lawrence Radoš Whittacker


This city wasn't a bad one. For what it was, it was a well-constructed, heavily populated and widely cultured hub of people, its inhabitants from all various walks of life. Of course, they didn't always get along, but that was the way things were. One couldn't really help that.

One could, however, chose the company one kept, and that was exactly why the young, dark-haired Sky Marshal had chosen to spend his leave in what was commonly known as the Bohemian sector of town, where dirty artists and penniless writers mingled with the perverse and corrupt underbelly of society's rejects, the colors merging to create a beautiful, crazy tapestry of smutty books, questionable artwork and very good coffees and teas. Finding a copy of Oscar Wilde's latest publication, Officer Whittacker took the book from the shelf, sat down at a small table in a corner by a window, and ordered a spiced coffee while a musician played for spare coins on the cracked, muck-stained street corner outside.

He paid no attention as a young man with remarkable hair entered the wig shop across the street, nor was he much bothered by the three trouble-seeking young men who shoved past the musician on their way to find discreet vantage points at which to draw their guns. Whittacker did, however, start, slam the book shut, strike the underside of the table with his kneecaps and nearly spill the hot, freshly-delivered coffee when the crack of gunshots split the calm, ramshackle atmosphere and turned the busy road into a cluster of people screaming, running and searching for cover.

Leaping up and rushing for the weapon rack by the door where he'd left his kukri and pistol, Whittacker quickly ordered the shop owner and patrons to get under the tables while he gently swung the door open, hanging back for a second to look out and check what was going on.

Location: A Bohemian bookshelf cafe
Condition: Startled, alert, ready for action.


((I can still carry the story with a post from this point, but I'm pausing here to give you the chance to detail Firearm's perspective of how the shoot-out began. Then I'll send Whittacker out to do Marshal-y things.))

TheCreatureOfHabit
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Sifen Yamishi

Vampire

PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 9:41 am


Ming 'Firearm' Chen


Ming's childhood was a sordid one. He grew up with unrealistic expectations from his own family in hopes that he would follow in his father's footsteps of being an engineer. Even though his own mother supported her own son fulfilling his dreams of living in the big city, she often worried for his safety, but knew it was for the best after witnessing Ming getting nearly strangled one night upon coming home from her work.

He shuddered at the the very triggering memory of that incident. But, that was all in the past. Brushing aside the bangs which have grown over his scar, he made his way to the wig shop in which he frequented. Mr. Jonas and his wife Isa were always kind to the young, flamboyant Asian, treating him as one of their own kin.

Zeke, their young son, often mentored Ming over dinner and offered a place to have him stay. Yet, he would time and time turn down their hospitable invitation, saying he is better off looking after his mother.

Swinging open the door, Isa smiled as she set aside a pair of goggles for her husband to repair. But a sense of dread washed over him, the feeling of being stalked fresh on his mind from an incident that happened the night before. However, he put on his bravest face and stepped into the shop.

"Morning, Ming! I see you're wanting to try on the red one again, today?" she asked, setting out a shoulder-length wig with a pair of silver goggles on top.

The Asian man stood in front of her and nodded, dirt caked on his boots from tireless nights of fleeing through alleyways after brief visits with his mother. His dark brown eyes bore years of horrifying nightmares that would inspire Francisco Goya for an eternity and more. Today, Ming wore a simple outfit, but it was nevertheless his trademark flamboyancy.

A black and white scarf was slung over his shoulder while his trusty pistol and rifle were strapped on, tightly snug as if they were trying to absorb his trauma into the very bullets they were equipped with. They didn't have any names, which he preferred. Getting close to anyone or anything got him burned and in some cases, injured.

He took out his satchel of coins and counted them. His last bounty barely was enough to feed him today, nor was it enough to pay for this wig.

"-sigh- Another day, yet so short."he said, putting the satchel away. Isa, seeing his frustration looked at him. However, it was then and there he pulled her aside and told her to get down. Sensing his worry, she followed his orders.

Ming took out his pistol and tried to make an exit, but the sound of a bullet ricocheting from a nearby shelf caused him to reel back. Just this alone triggered a buried memory from his past and it sent him into a tailspin of panic. What was he to do? Should he flee or try fighting against whoever this foe was?

Zeke was trying to usher his customers into a back room when he saw the raven haired male trembling behind a shelf. However, his concern turned to the state of disarray his parents' shop was becoming. They came to America with only a trunk of their belongings and dreams of succeeding in a business. Yet, no thanks to bandits, they were being raided on almost a weekly basis.

Customers were screaming over the sound of the bullets, scared for their lives. Jonas and Isa were trying to calm them down, but it was not proving to be a success.
PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 11:35 am


((While I wait for you to finish editing, here's some cool references to 19th Century wig use and LGBT.))

A Paris wig shop, 1800s

From Wikipedia: "Women's wigs developed in a somewhat different way. They were worn from the 18th century onwards, although at first only surreptitiously. Full wigs in the 19th and early 20th century were not fashionable. They were often worn by old ladies who had lost their hair. In the film Mr. Skeffington (1944), when Bette Davis has to wear a wig after a bout of diphtheria, it is a moment of pathos and a symbol of her frailty.

During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century hairdressers in England and France did a brisk business supplying postiches, or pre-made small wiglets, curls, and false buns to be incorporated into the hairstyle. The use of postiches did not diminish even as women's hair grew shorter in the decade between 1910 and 1920, but they seem to have gone out of fashion during the 1920s. In the 1960s a new type of synthetic wig was developed using a modacrylic fiber which made wigs more affordable. Reid-Meredith was a pioneer in the sales of these types of wigs."


Photo of an 1800's gay couple

A book on LGBT people and relationships in the Old West

From Wikipedia, on Wilde's affair with Alfred Douglas and how it turned out: "In mid-1891 Lionel Johnson introduced Wilde to Alfred Douglas, an undergraduate at Oxford at the time. Known to his family and friends as "Bosie", he was a handsome and spoilt young man. An intimate friendship sprang up between Wilde and Douglas and by 1893 Wilde was infatuated with Douglas and they consorted together regularly in a tempestuous affair. If Wilde was relatively indiscreet, even flamboyant, in the way he acted, Douglas was reckless in public. Wilde, who was earning up to £100 a week from his plays (his salary at The Woman's World had been £6), indulged Douglas's every whim: material, artistic or sexual.

Douglas soon dragged Wilde into the Victorian underground of gay prostitution and Wilde was introduced to a series of young, working class, male prostitutes from 1892 onwards by Alfred Taylor. These infrequent rendezvous usually took the same form: Wilde would meet the boy, offer him gifts, dine him privately and then take him to a hotel room. Unlike Wilde's idealised, pederastic relations with Ross, John Gray, and Douglas, all of whom remained part of his aesthetic circle, these consorts were uneducated and knew nothing of literature. Soon his public and private lives had become sharply divided; in De Profundis he wrote to Douglas that "It was like feasting with panthers; the danger was half the excitement... I did not know that when they were to strike at me it was to be at another's piping and at another's pay."

Douglas and some Oxford friends founded a journal, The Chameleon, to which Wilde "sent a page of paradoxes originally destined for the Saturday Review". "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young" was to come under attack six months later at Wilde's trial, where he was forced to defend the magazine to which he had sent his work. In any case, it became unique: The Chameleon was not published again.

Lord Alfred's father, the Marquess of Queensberry, was known for his outspoken atheism, brutish manner and creation of the modern rules of boxing. Queensberry, who feuded regularly with his son, confronted Wilde and Lord Alfred about the nature of their relationship several times, but Wilde was able to mollify him. In June 1894, he called on Wilde at 16 Tite Street, without an appointment, and clarified his stance: "I do not say that you are it, but you look it, and pose at it, which is just as bad. And if I catch you and my son again in any public restaurant I will thrash you" to which Wilde responded: "I don't know what the Queensberry rules are, but the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot on sight". His account in De Profundis was less triumphant: "It was when, in my library at Tite Street, waving his small hands in the air in epileptic fury, your father... stood uttering every foul word his foul mind could think of, and screaming the loathsome threats he afterwards with such cunning carried out". Queensberry only described the scene once, saying Wilde had "shown him the white feather", meaning he had acted in a cowardly way. Though trying to remain calm, Wilde saw that he was becoming ensnared in a brutal family quarrel. He did not wish to bear Queensberry's insults, but he knew to confront him could lead to disaster were his liaisons disclosed publicly."


From The Gaurdian, about lesbain Victorian marriages: "During the 19th century, women in what some Victorians referred to as "female marriages" lived together, owned property in common, called each other "hubby" or "wedded wife" and were recognised as a couple, including by the traditionalists among their neighbours and friends. What is more, the literary critic Sharon Marcus has trenchantly argued in her landmark Between Women, these relationships – based as they were upon a greater degree of equality – served as a model for those who sought to reform England's restrictive marriage laws. Female marriages conducted openly in the mid-19th century would be driven underground in the following century."


From enotes.com, a segment from an essay on homosexuality in 19th-century literature: " Despite the heavy persecution of male-male sexual activity, homosexual subcultures thrived as they had for centuries. Underground institutions provided space and an economic basis for this subculture, much the way pubs and clubs might service a man's platonic social activities. The most visible subcultural activity occurred among middle- and lower-class men, many of whom were exclusively homosexual, usually passive in sex, occasionally transvestite, and whose social life consisted of participation in this subculture. Some historians contend that these men did not represent the majority of the male population who engaged in homosexual sex, but simply the most visible. Court documents suggest that most male homosexuals were married men who maintained conventionally masculine manners and families, like Captain Henry Nicholas Nicholls, a war veteran and member of a respectable family who was executed for sodomy in 1833.

In general, homosexual men of the upper-middle class and the aristocracy belonged to this less visible milieu, insulated to some degree by wealth and social status. When an explicit subculture emerged later in the century among these men, it contributed to the development of homosexual identity and social rights. Historians attribute this to the influence of two phenomena: the development of a medical definition of homosexuality and the intellectual reevaluation of classical literature. The first, a medical discourse that classified individuals according to their sexual desires, owed its development to the work of sexologists throughout Europe, including Karl Heinrich Ulrichs, Richard von Krafft-Ebing, and Havelock Ellis. The latter owed its development largely to the efforts of Benjamin Jowett, who reintroduced the teaching of Plato and other classical authors at Oxford University as part of the Oxford Great Works Curriculum. This training allowed homosexual undergraduates—including such influential intellectuals as Wilde, Walter Pater, and J. A. Symonds—to validate their desires as the resurrected spirit of Hellenism: noble, aesthetic, intellectually rigorous, even martial and athletic. Symonds and Edward Carpenter, in particular, dedicated themselves to defining a positive and coherent image of homosexual identity. Their efforts began to have some effect in the 1880s and 1890s, coexisting with a long-standing conviction that "effeminacy" and "corruption" characterized male-male desire. The traditional condemnation re-emerged in 1895 in response to Wilde's trial. While the trial brought the discussion of homosexual desire into the open, it also catalyzed the kind of active persecution that had been for some time dormant. Many homosexual men, particularly those of high social status, resettled at least temporarily on the continent, seeking to avoid scandal and prosecution. Even the ambiguous forms of same-sex love that had so far been integral to Victorian culture became suspect, and homoaffectional literature became both more explicit in its sexuality and much less common." (Full article here.)


Also, in 1811, The Netherlands abolished laws criminalizing homosexual conduct. I can picture Firearm leaving Singapore and sojourning there for a time before going further into the western world.

((I'll stop there. Enjoy! I'm having fun researching all this, and I have a collection of Wilde's works if you want to borrow it sometime.))

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