hi!
this is an independent low-activity rp blog for a child oc!
enjoy your stay!
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as a girl so much smaller than her peers, mary is a quiet child that has grown up in her very few years of life being invisible to everyone around her. accustomed to neglect at the orphanage, she's developed the habit of internalizing her thoughts and needs; now driven by her anxieties, to the point where just about everything brings her fear.
despite her comfortability with being a background character, she's also an aspiring princess who tries her best to be kind and friendly - hoping to one day become an expert at hosting the kind of fancy tea parties where everyone is invited so that no one has to feel alone.
from an unfavored start to suddenly being thrust into the beginning of the rest of her life, mary's story is one about navigating the fragility of childhood, the perserverance of heart in the face of cowardice, and the journey of girlhood in a world that does so little to protect it.
at the end of this story, mary will never be brave. she will grow, as all little girls who learn to love themselves do, and eventually she'll come to realize within herself that maybe fear isn't a tragedy, at all—but a strength.
❀ RULES ❀
this is a low-activity child rp blog!
i have beta editor only.
PLOTTING IS NECESSARY. it will take all of two seconds and consists of two questions:
1. is mary under your muse’s care?
2. and if you’d prefer that she isn’t, what is your muse’s relationship to hers? ( optional; see: here ) … all done!
multiverse; mary is an ordinary girl that can fit into any canon
i’m aware that child oc blogs are kind of dependent on other muses, so i am least likely to follow blogs first, with a few exceptions to other kid muses and related characters
if you’d like to create a verse together with your muse, feel free to let me know! this is what the flexibility of my oc is for!
I WILL UNFOLLOW BLOGS that don’t plot / write with me
DNI: pr0ship losers, minors, non-mutuals
be nice : )
thanks for reading!
❀ BIOGRAPHY ❀
Name: mary
Birth date: march 17
Gender: cis girl
Sexuality: hetero
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Age: 4-5 years old
Weight: 43 lbs.
Height: 3'5"
Body build: slim
Shape of face: round
Eye color: brown
Glasses or contacts: none
Ethnicity: unknown ( ambiguous )
Skin tone: beige, tanned
Distinguishing marks: none
Predominant features: large, bright eyes, long eyelashes
Hair color: brown & light brown
Type of hair: mostly straight, medium-thick, curly at the ends
Hairstyle: shoulder length cut, loose sweeping bangs, sometimes wears double buns
Voice: soft, high
Disabilities/disorders: anxiety, ptsd
Usual fashion of dress: dresses, shoes, ribbons, soft colors
Favorite outfit: frilly yellow dress, white stocking / socks, babydoll shoes, hair ribbons, glitter polish
Jewelry or accessories: ribbons, bows, barrettes, stickers, earrings, bracelets, rings
PERSONALITY
Good personality traits: friendly, curious, helpful, polite
Bad personality traits: shy, afraid, anxious, doesn’t speak up about needs
Mood character is most often in: calm, happy, dreamy, cautious
FAVORITES
Color: yellow, pink, cream
Least favorite color: green, black
Music: music box, sing-a-longs
Food: peanut butter and honey sandwiches
HABITS
Hobbies: dolls, dress up, tea parties
Plays a musical instrument? no, but might want to
Plays a sport? no
How he/she would spend a rainy day: playing pretend in her room
Nervous tics: hiding, crying, fidgeting hands, looking down, thumb sucking
Usual body posture: correct posture, tucked to herself
Mannerisms: lots of careful nodding and headshakes, expressive eyes, gripping the hem of her dress, gentle touching
Peculiarities: hoards flowers, silent mover
TRAITS
Optimist or pessimist? optimist
Introvert or extrovert? introvert
Daredevil or cautious? cautious
Logical or emotional? emotional
Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? both
Confident or unsure? unsure
Animal lover? mostly in a theoretical sense, not practical
RELATIONSHIPS W/ OTHERS
Opinion of other people in general: strangers are scary, but everyone is important
Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others?: yes, because she has trouble speaking up about her needs and sharing her opinions
Person character most hates: bullies and monsters
Best friend(s): n/a but probably an imaginary friend or a stuffed animal
Love interest(s): n/a
Person character goes to for advice: stuffed animal
Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: toys
Person character feels shy or awkward around: everyone
Person character openly admires: pretty people, brave people
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she withdraws and august raises each hand. gently, softly. like the boy were trying to comfort a frightened baby animal. “ alright, okay, alright. ” he drawls to little mary. “ we ain’t gonna clean your cut. ”
his hand rummages in his ratty backpack. (a roll of cloth bandages. kind you would wrap round and round like a mummy.)
he extends bandage roll toward her. “ would you let me bandage it? here, ’s soft. ”
mary's gaze is wary, following his movements from the bag towards her. she gives the bandages a long look before slowly reaching to touch it with her non-injured hand. as her tiny fingers feel across the texture, she can validate the softness herself; it is soft.
slowly, she outstretches her injured hand again for him to bandage. she sniffs and swallows down the urge to cry, but the nervousness persists.
their current location – gas station bathroom. (a garbage bin pins the squeaky door. overhead light fixture buzzes and flares.) the boy, hoodie sleeves shoved to elbows, kneels to mary’s height.
“ can you be brave while i take care of your hand? ”
is it going to hurt like lots?
patient, warm copper eyes brake toward her. august, with widespread detail, inspects the small hand within his fragile grasp. a pesky, bloody abrasion colors her pale palm. “ i need to clean the cut. ” the boy answers. “ cleanin’ a cut can sting. you’ll be fine once i bandage it. ”
nothing good ever comes from being asking to be brave. mary understands this from experience; blurry memories of adults with unfitting smiles, right before—
"no!" she retracts her hand, a cry welling up in her throat. auggie's not telling her it's gonna hurt, which means it is.
she shakes her head, cradling her injury with her free hand.
the candy cane residue still sticky and warm against mary's palm is probably much stronger at keeping their hands clasped together than her still-developing discipline. the mall is bright with christmas decoration; tinsel and ribbons and wreaths and artificial snow. in her mesmerization, she wants to grab hold of it all, make the holiday something tangible that she can understand. she hasn't had many, after all.
but there are toys too, propped up against wide window storefronts; giant plush teddy bears, dainty dolls, and toy trains.
she points with her free hand at things that tug her young heart.
"look—" she murmurs, her voice barely registering above the noise of the crowd of shoppers, eyes glistening under the string lights at a baby doll wrapped in yellow frills, "can i have?"
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'It's snowing!'
'I can't believe how much snow there is!'
'Did we get a blizzard?'
'Look at all this snow!'
'How do you not enjoy winter? The snow is beautiful.'
'I want to get cozy by the fire.'
'Some hot coca and a fire would be great right about now.'
'I'll get some wood for the fire.'
'Come on, we'll cuddle by the fire.'
'Let's build a snowman!'
'What happened to him? You ruined a perfectly good snowman!'
'Snowmen are over. It's time for snow dinosaurs.'
'He's so cute! Just look at the snowmen!'
'Wanna go sledding?'
'Don't you dare crash my sled.'
'Have you ever gone sledding before?'
'Oh, come on, that hill is perfect for sledding!'
'I can see it already. Death by sled.'
'Is this your first time skiing?'
'Nothing like zipping down a mountain on some skis.'
'Winter sports are the best part about winter.'
'Yeah, that's a no. I'll just hang out at the lodge.'
'Skiing is overrated. Snowboarding is better.'
'Wanna go snowboarding?'
'I want to do some jumps, come on.'
'You're definitely a snowboarder. You have that vibe.'
'Make sure to bundle up, it's cold outside.'
'Don't forget your winter coat!'
'Mittens! I love them!'
'You should get your hat, it's pretty chilly out there.'
'I can't believe how cold it is.'
'Better break out the winter coats.'
'I am not wearing five layers of clothes.'
'Are you declaring snowball war?'
'Duck for cover!'
'Snowball fight!'
'Hey, watch my head! You almost got me in the face!'
'Don't you dare shove snow down my back!'
'That is not a snowball, that's an iceball!'
'I got some gingerbread kits, wanna try one?'
'You ate half of my gingerbread house!'
'The kits are for cowards. I don't need instructions to build a structurally sound gingerbread house.'
'Yeah, so, all those candies were decorations. Not just a snack for the builder.'
'You bit my gingerbread man's head off!'
'Well, I've seen worse gingerbread creations.'
'What a time of year.'
ORIGINAL CHARACTERS MASTERLIST POST. reblog this post if you have an original character and want to be added to the original character masterlist located here. please follow the following format in your tags when reblogging and i will add you to the list.
blog url / single muse or multi muse. ( ex. enoqian / single muse. )
i will go through the list monthly ( on the 1st ) and clear any inactive blogs out that haven't posted in two months w/o a hiatus notice. if you change your url, you are welcome to send in an ask to let me know what your old url was, your new url, and the applicable series and sections. thank you !!
mary peels her face from the fabric of his pants in just enough time to angle her head up towards him as he asks and her expression quivers. her eyes water, bottom lip jutting out as she starts to cry, her tiny fingers curling against her grip of him.
"nn—..." he was gone so long, she thought he might never return. mary doesn't like aunt carol—she doesn't know her enough to, still hasn't adjusted to any of this yet.
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Rain pummels a free-fall percussion on the rooftops, drops fat enough they splinter the ground on landing. Cole's heels pound a rushed pace through the halls, picture-framed walls blurring as he peels through doors and circles between rooms. Every call is met with rattling shingles, wood walls slapped with the drumming roll of nails, but there is no answer from his daughter and every beat of silence wrenches a cold spear through his stomach.
He strangles a jacket off the coat rack between his fingers, starting for the front door for mud-crusted boots when lightning flashes, beaming through the windows in flood light whites; blasts shadows into cut-out blacks in a brief strike of clarity. Mary's voice clatters out beneath the shake and roar of thunder, piercing despite all the din that surrounds it, and Cole tears after the new direction like fire.
He pushes the door back open into her room, hinges whining a vocal track as the hallway light wedges a block into the dark. His fingers fumble along wall paper, tipping a switch to On. Breathless, he calls: "Mary?"
the last round of thunder was so loud, so jarring, that mary doesn't even register that cole's thudded his way back upstairs and brought himself through the door of her room. her cries are seperated by intervals of hiccups that leave her more dissolved into helplessness than the last.
she picks her head up to sniff the collection of snot trying to pool into the blanket bunched up into her face, notices the light on in the room and tries to go quiet. but even as she tries to clamp her lips together, the involuntary effect of her cries turns it all into a high pitched hum that leaves her with each exhale through her nose.
the bed is too low for him to fit under there with her, but the fear is still there: he will find her and he will be angry. she hugs her blanket tighter, staring at his boots with red, puffy eyes, and hopes with all her might that he doesn't find her, because the indiscriminate mercilessness of nature rattling the walls and shaking her to her tiny core is somehow a little less frightening than an adult that will punish her for daring to be afraid.
He treks quietly through the museum's halls, his eyes laser focused on his clipboard as he tries to make his proper rounds of the day. A sigh escapes him as he draws in a quiet breath and makes his way around the bend.
HE HEARS some of the interns in the distance, his eyes moving upward before he lets out a quiet sigh.
"Alright alright, back to what you were supposed to be doing."
He's A LITTLE more lax today. With the holiday season he figures it's best to try and give them all a break, but he still runs a tight ship one way or another.
mary really doesn't like when she has to come to the museum. it's too big, too open; there aren't many places for her to tuck herself into to hide. but she thinks if she's quiet enough, she can make it through the day mostly unnoticed. the big kids at the other table are easily occupied with each other that they won't even think to pick on her.
but then the museum man strolls in sighing, and mary freezes. he'd tasked her with putting the pens and pencils in seperate organizer bins, which seemed pretty easy at first. but then she found a few mechanical pencils in the pile without really knowing what a mechanical pencil was... so she placed them in the bins with the pens.
[id: a blue userbox with a white border and white text that reads “this user sleeps with stuffed toys" . on the left is an image of a teddy bear. /end id]
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Mary's handful is modest, but the pride glows in her face, her cheeks pushed full and her posture an exclamation point. The girl smiles at happoween and Cole tips his hat, murmurs to her something about grabbing a handful for the road, and she concedes. His palm scoops a fatter haul, aluminum foil glittering between fingers, and he drops tootsies, smarties, and jolly ranchers into Mary's pink bin. A quicker procession, but Mary's confidence buds like a sapling first breaking loam, bright green and bashful.
"All right, hon," It's tempting to lift her up again, but Angela's voice presses into his ear: She needs to develop her legs — "Where to next? You think you can try your hand at it?"
the sound of mary's lollipop plops into her bucket right after his addition to her candy stash, is followed by the sound of it all rustling as she adjusts to grip the handle with both hands squeezed together side by side.
she turns towards the street, glancing at the direction they'd come from, if only because it's about time to start missing mommy again; it's been a long day, with a lot less nap time from all the anticipation of her first trick-or-treating.
her eyes land on a shiny door thats wrapped in orange tinfoil, little pumpkin lights decorating the porch railings.
