House of Swords

Where was your OC born, and where did they grow up?

How does your OC remember their childhood? Is this an accurate reflection of what their childhood was actually like?

If your OC could revisit their childhood, what would they want to change about it, if anything at all?

Describe three of the most important photographs your OC owns.

What is your OC's gender identity and sexual orientation? Is this also what they identify as in canon, or are they not (fully) aware?

How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they like who they are? What would they want to change about themself?

What is your OC's occupation?

What does your OC's family look like?

Describe a mundane day in your OC's life.

Does your OC have any physical scars? What is the story behind them?

What does your OC carry around in their pockets? What about their bag?

What is the worst thing that has happened to your OC? How has it affected their behavior, their health, and their life in general?

What is something your OC does (to others) that they would not like if others did to them? Are they aware that they do this?

Does your OC hold grudges? How good are they at letting things go? Do they believe in second chances?

What is your OC's fatal flaw?

Is there anyone your OC has lost contact with? What happened?

What are some of your OC's coping mechanisms during stressful or overwhelming periods in their life?

What are your OC's bad habits?

How does your OC handle preparing for and initiating a difficult conversation? How does the conversation itself go?

How quick is your OC to shift blame? Do they own up to their mistakes, or are they prone to start pointing fingers at others?

How does your OC handle criticism?

How good is your OC at apologizing, if they do this at all?

What is your OC like when they're angry?

What is your OC like when they're upset?

What is your OC's deepest desire? Would they ever ask for this?

How quickly does your OC reach their breaking point? What are they like when this point has been reached?

What are some assumptions others make about your OC? Are any of them true?

What does your OC think others are saying about them behind their back? Is any of this true?

What are three traits your OC has that can both have positive as well as negative qualities?

How paranoid is your OC? How does this affect their daily life?

Are there any places or people your OC is avoiding?

How does your OC handle rejection?

How does your OC handle jealousy?

What would be some of the signs your OC is starting to push people away?

If your OC had to kill someone, how would they do it? If killing is a near-daily occurrence to them, what is their preferred method?

Does your OC believe they deserve it when bad things happen to them?

What is the most common feeling or emotion in your OC's life?

What is the most recurring theme in your OC's nightmares?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like? What is the worst pain they have ever felt?

What is your OC afraid of?

Has your OC ever hurt someone, either physically or verbally?

How easily influenced by others is your OC?

What are common things your OC worries about?

Do others consider your OC to be scary or intimidating?

Does your OC keep their promises? Have they ever broken one before?

Does your OC carry any guilt with them?

If your OC had to pick a new identity and skip town, what would they come up with? Where would they go?

What would your OC do if they knew that this was their last day alive?

Does your OC fear death?

Send one of the following symbols and one of my OC’s names and I’ll doodle:

((How do you 'dress up' a suit of armor for a gala when he can't take anything off?

Foam

Closed | for @fazbear-security

The cleaner was likely to wonder why a groove was worn into the sitting room carpet, but Eric Nye was well past the point of caring. He'd paced back and forth, back and forth, going over the same words until well past sundown, and still had yet to reach any sort of decision.

Professor Nye, Forgive me, for this must seem rather forward, and no doubt alarming. I have good reason for the cloak-and-dagger passing of letters, for it has come to my attention that...

A clue. A trail to follow. Those smugglers had tugged at the back of his mind for months now, working loose the threads until other thoughts came tumbling out. It made it difficult to focus on his research and lectures. Not that it mattered now; he'd cancelled all of his classes for the foreseeable future. His students would complain, but they'd manage.

This was so much more important.

The clear ring of the bell cut through his thoughts, and Michael remembered to breathe. He heard Eric speaking, but didn't quite hear the words as he took another deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. He frowned at his (much hairier than usual) arms and moved to roll down the sleeves of his shirt to cover them. He usually preferred them rolled up to his elbows, but right now, he'd rather they hide how much of his transformation was bleeding through his form.

"Michael," he said, reaching out to rest a hand where he had rolled down his sleeve. "It's alright. I understand that this is a difficult subject for you and I'm not going to be upset if you transform. Believe me, I had quite the fight with myself about whether to even tell you. But you deserve to know."

Well, that was the real question, wasn't it? What do they do? He knew what he wanted to do... but it depended on whether Michael agreed. "I do have the beginnings of a plan. But I'll need Mr. Conner's help. And yours, if you feel up to it." He frowned. "Conner is... somewhat indisposed right now. But I think he'll want to help. In fact I think he'll find it rather... cathartic."

That was an understatement. There would be no ending this without violence if he brought Mike along. He'd leave him out of it for that reason alone, if he thought he could. And in all honesty, with these... underworld types, the violence was likely inevitable. He'd rather have someone strong on his side when that time came.

Misc. sentence & symbol starters - “I’m afraid of a lot of things. You’re not one of them.”

Mike scratched at a peeling chip of paint on the windowsill where the condensation pooled over the years. "Maybe you should be," he muttered, finally, long after the rain stopped tapping out the seconds on the glass. There was no bite to it; why would there be? There was no anger any more, only a simple, unavoidable truth. And he could never be angry at Lyle.

He was glad, though. Maybe it was selfish of him. Selfish to want someone around, despite the threat he posed, the danger that seemed to follow him in his shadow. He'd only blame himself if Lyle got hurt, but...

The renovation had been a spur of the moment decision, motivated mainly by a desire to rip out and bury all that remained of the past. And Ash deserved somewhere nice to live now he had decided to stick around. Sera, too, when she swung by. He wasn't sure where she went when she didn't, but when he asked she'd given him some bull about girls needing secrets.

Well, she'd managed nearly twenty years on her own. His heart twisted painfully in his chest.

houseofswords​:

Ash felt… guilty over his frosty first impression. The man had sacrificed a lot to be here, it seemed, but this place would swallow him whole eventually, like it did to everyone sooner or later. Like he knew it had done to Eric and Louise, to his own father. He could only wonder when it would happen to him.

Louise eyed Kellarth up and down, her gaze hard, but she seemed to approve of whatever it was she saw as she only grunted and went back to her clipboard. “Well, I did promote Ash from gopher, so I’m gonna need a new one.”

“I was ‘promoted’ on my first day, remember?”

“You also fell down the pit on your first day, don’t get lippy.”

Yeah, well, that… wasn’t his fault. Maybe? His memory of the event was hazy at best. And he didn’t want to remember it. He was afraid—he remembered that well enough. “Well, good luck with the hellevator,” he said, cheerfully, “I’m going to show Kellarth the animatronics.”

She didn’t lift her gaze from the clipboard. “Uh huh, you do that—wait, you’re s’posed to run the checks with me!”

But Ash was already wiggling his fingers in a wave over his shoulder. Joel could do it. He was scared of the hellevator—but he could do it. “We’re friends, I promise,” he said to the newbie, as a sort of apology. He could imagine how dysfunctional this all looked to an outsider. “The stairs up to the fly tower and aviary are behind the back wall. We call it the aviary because—well, you’ll see.”

He found himself hoping that Kellarth would like his little project; it was important to him, and Louise and Eric both thought, though wouldn’t say it, that he was wasting his time. They thought that the animatronics could never be fixed. What they didn’t know was that Ash knew where to get replacement parts.

@houseofswords

Gelert wasn’t sure if Louise was teasing or not, but he could definitely be a good ‘gopher.’  It would mean learning his way around and remembering who people were ASAP, but he wasn’t too bad at that sort of thing.  Probably because he moved around so much - his mind had to learn new things quickly most of the time.

As the two bantered, the blond looked on with a grin.  Ash’s casual nature was helping him feel more at ease the longer they hung out together.  The atmosphere here still felt… off.  The was a buzz of ‘otherness’ that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  But work was work, and there didn’t seem to be any reason to worry about it.  Not yet, at least.

He couldn’t deny being more than a little intrigued about why they called the elevator a ‘hellavator,’ but he’d probably get the chance to ask later - or find out for himself.  Instead, Gelert responded to Ash’s words with a grin and a chuckle.  “She… actually seems kind of cool,” he admitted.  “Though I definitely got the sense I shouldn’t do anything to make her mad.”  He’d have to test the waters gently when it came to jokes and such.  After all, he imagined newbies didn’t get as much leeway as someone like Ash who’d obviously been around awhile.

He nodded as the next area’s location was described to him.  The aviary.  It definitely sounded like a cool place.  And Ash had said something about animatronics earlier… hadn’t he?  “You’re building up my expectations,” he teased in a gentle tone.  “I’ve loved animatronics ever since the French…”  And here he quickly caught himself.  He could hardly admit to Ash that he’d been around when the Enlightenment brought about so many mechanical wonders.  Automata they’d been called back then.  He wondered when the name had changed.  

He pointed up at the artificial reef moulded around the front apron of the stage. There, surrounded by oversized clams and starfish, were the usual suspects. For now they were mercifully silent. But it still felt like those glassy eyes were watching him, and his skin prickled when he turned his back on them and let the door swing closed. "Normally they comment on the show too, but we've got Rocky Horror as a limited run right now and I doubt that Johnson paid to have lines recorded."

To be honest, Ash was surprised that he was even willing to pay the licensing fee. He was pretty sure the props and stage pieces were the same ones from ten years ago, dragged out of the undercroft, dusted off and any moth-eaten holes hastily painted over.