⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken And I hung my head and I cried. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine ⠀⠀⠀ You make me happy when skies are grey ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ You'll never know, dear, how much I love you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Please don't take my sunshine away.
“What makes you think you’re a coward?” Riley looked over at the woman who had been stood in front of him, muttering but he couldn’t help but listen in a bit.
Wheezing in quite a long breath for a miniature woman, she took her time searching for an answer. “Well, moving to Redmour to avoid a war is already a strike, right? And waking up with every c-creak of the house. I’m c-constantly frightened by the tiniest encounter I have with . .” her wind snatched the last few words. However, there was no doubt where she was going with that as she took a second to peer up at the stranger who had stopped. “And I haven’t put the tiniest thought in how to defend myself. Like, do I just . . how do you even start? Where would I, you know, even hide a gun with a nosy toddler in the house?”
Eventually she might stop her mouth from running to offer a courteous introduction and a profuse apology, but it felt so much better talking to someone who understood or didn’t seem to only repeat the curse words she’d accidentally let slip.
10. what would your character make a scene in public about?
gee whiz. from just her persona, i mean, we can tell that she hates making a scene. but, of course, there are always exceptions. so, i’m gonna say when she’s having a really bad day and something just comes along that breaks her; i’m talking about anything, from remembering that she needed to grab milk when half-way home to a rude dude who can’t take a hint. it’s not something she’d mean to do; breaking down in tears in the middle of walmart when they don’t have hawaiian rolls is a defense mechanism. otherwise, injuries, especially life-threatening, are definitely a good time to make a scene.
“Maybe I really don’t understand,” a befuddled mother hummed, a hand running down her face, “maybe I’m just too jittery. People are k-kind here; they wouldn’t ever think a harmful thought towards me . . or my family. I mean, really, should I be so scared all the time or am I just a c-coward?” Pushing a strand of hair behind her ears, she refused the wind the pleasure of disrupting her troubling thoughts, or excusing whoever had stopped to hear her lamenting.
crucial muse development questions. send a number in my inbox to find out more about my character as a person ( because often, the most important things about character development have nothing to do with their shoe size or netflix queue ).
what would completely break your character?
what was the best thing in your character’s life?
what was the worst thing in your character’s life?
what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?
does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?
what is your character reluctant to tell people?
how does your character feel about sex?
how many friends does your character have?
how many friends does your character want?
what would your character make a scene in public about?
for what would your character give their life?
what are your character’s major flaws?
what does your character pretend or try to care about?
how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?
When the other rounded the corner Phobe extended in claws in fright. “Holy fucking shit. Warn a girl before you come out of nowhere.” She said moving to stand from the stoop she was sitting as she hit the last huff of her joint. “I thought you were a cop or something.” She said breathing out smoke.
Maybe Donia should have been used to her life flashing before her eyes by now, but she couldn’t seem to muffle her fight or flight reflex. The stout brunette had flinched, her eyes still squeezed shut like she could just dream the encounter away the longer she lingered in that frozen position.
“N-not a c-cop.” She exhaled, her eyes peering open after she was sure she had not died. Or maybe she couldn’t be sure, not at this point. “I’m so sorry; I was just -- kind of, uhm,” she couldn’t seem to meet the woman’s eyes, or her claws for that matter, “I’m really, very sorry, ma’am.” Nonetheless, she didn’t seem quite able to continue on her way yet; at least, not with the fear still lapping in her eyes.
Is it weird? A human in a town full of supernaturals? Does it ever scare you?
“ i don’t really know what’s weird anymore. all i c-can really hope is that, you know, we’re safe here. maybe if anyone had ill intent, then . . i c-could be the first target. but i made my home here, and i’m not broke here, and i don’t think anyone is evil enough to imagine any harm on my son. and - and i, i think it’s better than being out there . . even if i am the odd one out these days. ”
“And that, my friends, is why I know for a fact Carrie Underwood is 100% a demon.” Silas stated confidently before bringing their drink to their lips. They had spent the last five minutes discussing how her new song Love Wins was trying to appease the Lord into thinking she was a a changed person.
A smile seemed to have squeezed onto Donia’s face, but her eyebrows furrowed in a way that better communicated something other than joy. “I don’t . . I don’t really follow still --” The brunette confirmed, as though there had been any belief that she would. Some things weren’t so hard to wrap her head around; things like witches, or vampires. Werewolves weren’t that much of a stretch either. Everything other, and she couldn’t help but shut down. That, and she was troubled by the idea of one of her favorite country singers being a demon; not that she really even knew what that entailed.
“Maybe . . it’s just another one of those things I c-can’t understand, you know?”
the fool: do you have any nicknames?
the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else?
the high priestess: what is your dream date?
the empress: do you think you will ever get married?
the emperor: what are some names that you like?
the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts?
the lovers: do you have a crush?
the chariot: thoughts on astrology?
strength: what is your dream occupation?
the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop?
wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle?
justice: favorite color of rose?
the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack?
death: what are three things you want to do before you die?
temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had?
the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?
the tower: favorite colors to wear?
the star: have you ever seen a psychic?
the moon: have you ever written a love letter?
the sun: do you believe in magic?
judgement: do you enjoy school?
the world: do you like waking up early?
Did (JENNA COLEMAN) just arrive in Redmour? No, it’s just (DONIA HARLYN BRADY). (SHE/HER) is a (THIRTY-ONE) year old (HUMAN). You can normally find them at (REDMOUR DAYCARE) they are the (OWNER). I heard that they were (HUMBLE) and (GENEROUS) but also (COWARDLY) and (SUBMISSIVE).
yello! my name is colleen, i’m 18, and i have no self-control. instead of studying for AP tests, i scrolled through rps and found this little gem! my timezone is CST, my cat is a cutie, and i enjoy playin’ soccer. otherwise, i dabble in lotsa stuff; from musicals to marvel. now that i’ve told you my life story, i’ll spill the beans on little ol’ doni. but go ahead and like this post, so that i’ve got permission to send you a message for plotting!
being human, donia didn’t have a whole lot to learn from. she can’t live till she’s two hundred or not die from, well, really anything. her time is limited and she’s been made more than aware.
a sweet southern belle, she’d moved to Washington for true love (if you could call it that). more so, it was a relationship she should never have pursued. dragging such few belongings along with her, she found that it wasn’t her significant other that allowed her to prosper; it was Washington itself. her dependency disintegrated.
what do you know, her relationship disintegrated as well. there’s something about your significant other making more than you when that had never been the plane that really ruffles people’s feathers. her news of pregnancy did little to soften the blow. everything ended with a sting.
and yet things didn’t end. she continued on, dug that Georgian grit from her bowels and put in weeks more of hours, got a promotion, worked full time to eat well until her son was born and then made sure he ate well.
doni learned it was all for naught not very long after. the revelation of supernatural things was, for a lack of better words, a downer. but it was also an opportunity. she waded in deep waters of how fragile her and her son were, but understood more than most that if she did not try to be welcoming and kind to new ideas, she was no better than her ex or the close-minded family she abandoned in Georgia.
new towns springing from the dirt were also a gold mine for those who rolled into action in time. she was more than prepared to attempt to make a better life for her family by borrowing the money needed for her daycare.
nonetheless, her morals enrapture her completely and her stutter complicates the pioneer she’s become. never could she think herself fierce or raise her voice without extreme guilt: mostly a product of socialization.
she makes enough to get by, but is also known to man the daycare herself. yet with a three-year-old son, she struggles more than she’d like to admit.
as for her ex, he was found dead and not far from Redmour. whether doni is aware is a mystery as well as whether she could have had anything to do with it.
if you have any master plans for a gr8 plot, seriously, don’t hesitate; pop in. i am legit down for the sickest plot ya’ll have. and i don’t bite!
