𝕀n my defense, I wasn't supposed to be around this long˳ᐟ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Caught between the lattice of fictionalized, digital worlds and our very own tangible reality, the Perfect Person is the definition of an enigma, both in terms of characterization and sheer power. Created to be a toy and tool for all collective writers, it roams the multiverse to reach out to all corners of these numerous realms and bring forth its writer's will, be it nefarious and cruel or benevolent and charitable.

🌻 random in-character questions

"An endless well of affection!" The Perfect Person folds its arms behind its head, leaning back. "Luxuries abound! I've done so much work for everyone else, I would just love to see anyone scrapping to try and perform even an iota of what I would do at the drop of a hat." It closes its eye, thinking, its boisterous tone lowering to something decidedly more casual, almost breathy in consideration. "Being put in a situation where I'm no longer responsible for figuring out all of the details. Being shown that people care and are trying. Being amused at the effort, content with the result. I don't know." Its eye snaps open and it unfolds to wave the thought away. "And domestic life. I miss having a house, living in it with someone. Just being around guys felt so nice."

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The Perfect Person exhales a chuckle, apparently amused or exasperated at the question. "No, duh." It sets its paw against its chest; digits pressed against fabric, fingers arced concave and palm tense away from it, "I'm a perfect person, if not the Perfect Person, as a proper noun and singular. What is the point of self-destruction? It doesn't help anything. It doesn't feel good. It troubles the people near you and makes you look stupid, the type of stupid you can never escape from. Such permanence must be avoided, in the case you find yourself wishing you'd never fumbled in the fire place." It throws its paws up to the point where they're parallel with its shoulders, arms bent in the traditional 'whatever' gesture. "I exist largely to try and pin down others self-destructive tendencies and eliminate them. I'd be a knowing hypocrite if I engaged in what I was tasked with terminating despite being aware of the phenomenon at play and potential solutions to pick at. Do you really think that little of me?" It puts on a faux miserable expression, ears drooping and eye wide and wet, its frown trembling as if it might erupt into sobs if challenged.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

"Fight, obviously," the Perfect Person chuckles, raising its paws up in fists in the traditional cartoon 'Put em up!' gesture. "Firstly, what is there to scare me? Nothing could physically harm me and I don't value anything at all in this wretched life. What could be leveraged against me? But secondarily, in the off chance that something does frighten me, I could just trounce it. Obliterate it, even! Remove it from the memory of everything and anything it may have graced, rebuild a world where whatever torments me never existed in the first place! I could yank their limbs off until they're only connected to the midsection by threads, I could, I-- I'm getting told to put a cork in it, sorry! But, you know, you get the gist. I've gone on and on about this all before, the torture I could impart and all."

In incidents in which the Perfect Person is terrified, it cannot comprehend anything but fawn. Despite the posturing, it's fairly easy to rattle provided it has something or someone to care about. Back in the time where it was often, every other week, tormented by some new event, it was only so vulnerable as it was obsessed with trying to solve and fix the world to keep up appearances and to gain the approval of other people as it did, and still does, desperately yearn for attention. Thus, every time something went wrong it would spiral horribly about failing those it cared for, potentially hurting them in the process as it often faced world ending incidents, and looking horribly stupid in a way it would never be able to strike from its records (God keeps score, unfortunately). It is actually rather adverse to using violence against anything that is important (often reserving it to assault random bystanders whom it does not care for or whom it thinks are offhandedly evil in a way a good punch is enough to solve) as its fear of failing in shows of strength is massive, so rarely would it ever fight. Instead, it often turns to the nearest person is trusts and begins to beg for assistance. Just tell me how to fix it, command me, guide my hand, I can do it all if you just tell me what I'm supposed to be doing, I can't do this alone, I'm too stupid, you're more clever than me- and if you were wrong, that's your fault, not mine. It feels very lost, you see. It's used to, and was created to, be controlled entirely by another person with clear intention. Since it has been tossed to act practically on its own in interpersonal situations, it becomes frantic and clingy, unable to do much of anything at all without explicit permission from others. It also does this due to the inability to cope with being wrong, thus preferring that all situations be the responsibility of other people who use it as a tool. Don't blame the hammer for the head wound! In a lot of causes, too, fawn will manifest as adoration towards the villain. It's preferred method of rehabilitating villains and saving worlds from evil actions has been to try and seduce malicious parties, both because it believes its love to be purifying but also due to its known obsession with witnessing damage unfolding before it. Best case scenario they stop killing people, but worse case scenario he gets to giggle on the sidelines while they take axes to heads while feeling as if its not his responsibility to stop because, well, it's bad when strangers commit violence but he knows the goodness in their heart so it's quite alright, recovery isn't linear, maybe they'll be better next week, I'll keep an eye on it.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

"I don't need to forget anything," The Perfect Person says boisterously before pausing and mulling over its words, what had been written. "I don't need to want to... rather to, forget." It clarifies sloppily, seemingly utterly disinterested in the thought. "The implication would be that we're looking into troubling, traumatic incidents that I would want washed out of my brain, but I have never been troubled, distressed, or otherwise traumatized." It waves its paw dismissively as if to permit the exit of the thought. "And anyways, most things that involved me in the past have been wiped out, at least as far as our consciousness goes. Paragraphs of text spanning months locked behind a barrier; in effect, my memories lost as I can not review them. Forgetting it really easily, if I ever wanted, actually," it grins at the camera, "I'd just delete the text, simple as."