HalfOfLancelot

Written: A Fairytale RP

@Undine That's actually not a bad idea. And I think Esmeralda can find her way to the diner

@FantasyChic

Join ur diner bbys Esmeralda. Order ur eggs and bacon. Get ur coffee. Ahaha AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Wrath of the Gods

@Witch Cat@Didos

We'll have to wait for the GM team to all get together tomorrow before we can accept these characters! You guys keep catching us when we're asleep or busy. ;3;

Or in this case, when we're about to go to sleep. Or well... *cough* I mean half the team is asleep already—you know what, sh. I'm going to bed. SH. I have class tomorrow. SHHHH

Wrath of the Gods

@Holy Soldier

I think it's insofar as, these Gods have domains within their grasp that are among the ones they have majority of control in. Ra is the God of the Sun, therefore his main domain is within that area. Horus' eyes are the sun and the moon, but that's a small tidbit - a factoid. It's like saying that Freyja, because she resides over half of the warriors brought in from the battlefield by her valkyrie is currently the 100% domain rule of the dead and death. You have to account for subcategories within these domains and how a power would fit within them, given their children have just a modicum of godly wrath.

What you've done with this power is that you've amped it up more than you necessarily should have. You've essentially taken these rather strong powers associated with Solar and Lunar manipulation and attributed to a God of the Sky who has only his foot in the door, so to speak, in both of these domains. We had this issue with Apple's Apollo child in that he interpreted powers and certain domains in a way that shies too far from the God itself. You've done that in a different way, though. You've taken something minor and amplified it as if Horus was both God of the Sun and God of the Moon. If we're basing his own domain, his own powers off a modicum of what his children potentially know, we can assume that Horus is just as powerful as both Ra and Khonsu in domains they feature quite heavily in - and in Khonsu's regard, one he only features in.

There can be overlap. That's going to happen no matter what and in no matter which pantheon you're in. It's just the fact of how you treat that overlap, and whether it truly personifies the God and their perceived personalities. It's more in line with how they ruled over their domain, rather than just what their patronage was known for. For instance you have Freyja, a Vanir who's essentially queen of the Valkyries, among many other gods, she also resides over death. However, unlike Hel, she presides over the death of warriors she chooses - half and half with Odin, essentially. She's still a goddess of death, but her domain is interpreted differently in a way that it's not just death, it's a subset of it.

Thanatos - bringer of death. He's essentially the Greek's grim reaper. Hermes delivers the dead. Hades presides over the dead. There's overlap, yes, but they're all different even between each other. You have to be aware of that prior to making your character."

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Now to get to the point of taking care of each of your points.

1. Cool, as long as you know Horus wouldn't reveal himself to her, would likely have not told her any of his past, etc. She can construe stories about him, have a notion of him, or he can just be the general, "My father said he was heading out for smokes. He's been out for smokes for about 18 years now." Kinda of deal. That would put a lot of that resentment you seem to tie closely to your character.

2. Yes, we'd definitely love for that not to be included in his actual CS. It's a tricky concept, fusing with anyone's characters because it removes control, gets too complex, and just gets generally too sticky. When it's two of your own characters, it's easier to deal with, but when it's someone else's or an NPC, it gets... too complicated.

3. I already touched upon this. We're not looking to suck out your originality, we're looking out for anything that can be considered too over powered. This entire section of your CS is too overpowered and has the issues I've touched on prior. You've got an assortment of powers in this one section that you've labeled one solo power. There's a difference between having various uses of a power, like being psychic, having telepathy, etc. and then there's having sub-powers hidden beneath one umbrella term for a power. I mean, most things like solar manipulation, darkness manipulation, light manipulation, etc. have sub-categories within themselves, but those are essentially built upon a foundation. Adom's Sun and Moon just mesh all of these multiple powers that have too much variation. I can see the connection between each, but there's too much going on for this power to be anywhere near an acceptable level.

4. This is difficult to analyze from any standpoint without harshly critiquing it. This is acceptable in an environment where this character is the main character, definitely. When you're writing your own story, usually the main character has a charisma about him/her. Commander Shepard, Harry Potter - my mind is currently drawing a blank regarding literary figures, but you get the gist of it. They're great to use in an environment in which you can shape everything yourself. In this setting? Not so much.

There's also that good adage: "Show, don't tell." You're all telling us, "This character is a born leader. He can draw people toward him. Be decisive. Lead by example. Take responsibility." However, that's a very, very, very good way to ultimately kill your character preemptively, especially when you're surrounded by amazing writers like this. You're staking your claim on the leadership role in this group without anyone's consent. You're making your character charismatic and that's a dangerous personality trait to use in Roleplaying where you reply on the interaction and the consent of 6+ other people. You're very much assuming we're okay with this by including this. I'm not. In fact, anytime I see someone put: Charismatic, Manipulative, Intelligent, Perceptive, etc. I immediately want all of my characters to refute those claims. It makes me want the exact opposite of what you do and immediately creates conflict right off the bat.

These traits, these specific traits, rely far too much on other players' consent. You see where I'm going with it? I could rant for days on this. But, you have to think, "Does this personality trait I'm giving my character absolutely require another's compliance to work?" and if it's solely dependent on another player, or all players' consent, it's not a trait you should use in a Roleplay. The only things I can think of you can get away with something like that is if you absolutely plan on making people hate your character, but again, that's a very cheap way to get people to loathe who you're making. It's more rewarding when your character's actions speak a lot louder than what you've told us.

But, yeah, the reason we don't particularly want traits or powers like this is how much it relies on utter manipulation of other characters. You can be manipulative, you can be conniving, you can be backhanded ICly, we aren't barring you from that, but simply stating that your character is in such a manner as that particular power has portrayed doesn't really fly. There are certain traits that you can simply state: generous, malicious, kind, capricious. And then there are those that have to specifically be shown and built upon and require not only your knowledge of the character, but your knowledge and skill in writing.

In essence, it's very difficult to be manipulative. It's very easy to say your character is manipulative. In this particular case, it's very difficult to be a good leader. It's extremely easy to say your character's a good leader. Simply saying your character are these things with the language and the word choice and the context being used, as it is now, totes the line of Godmodding very, very precariously. So, no, you can't just tell us, "My character has innate charisma. He's a natural born leader." You have to specifically show this to us in the IC. In written word. In plot and character development. You can tell us your plans and what you want out of the character, but you just can't state it the way you did with, "Blood of the King." When it comes to something like this, we want to see it shown to us. Having it spelled out leaves out the fun of it and creates unnecessary conflict from the assumption that every player is okay with this.

(I mean, even if you were to go around asking everyone here, "Are you okay with my character having X Trait?" it's still... it's still not going to fly. Because then this entire thing just went over everyone's heads. We don't want these traits explicitly stated as fact and truth; we want things of this nature to be developed in a way that gives everyone a choice to accept it. Where's the challenge and intrigue if you can just say, "My character is charismatic and intelligent and a leader"? I see CSes as a base format. A kind of "Begin Here" thing and if we start at the beginning with not enough room to branch out the plot and our characters, then what's the point? These things severely stifle growth, especially concerning growth between characters.)

Written: A Fairytale RP

@HalfOfLancelot So, the person who reserved Flynn hasn't been on in three days. Should I post what I have for Rapunzel and fix the history portion later? I wasn't sure how to write it without including some information that might affect Flynn's backstory.

@Hunter of Dreams

Yeah! By all means, go ahead. Cas is currently busy with some RL stuff, so I don't think it would hurt to post her and then see what needs to be changed a little later on - likely won't be much, or at least not a lot that's too big of an issue.

Written: A Fairytale RP

@fluorescent

Take your time! Thanks for checking in with us, though. ;p We aren't too stringent on posting within a certain time frame, as long as you keep us up to date on whether or not you're still alive lol.

Written: A Fairytale RP

Sorry this took so long; classes have started for me and it's a bit chaotic~

@Undine

Same, tho. Classes are dumb and I am totally using that as an excuse for laziness. Sh.

Written: A Fairytale RP

@Morose

DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO GIRL.

I know a lot of 'Muricans are starting college/uni like right now. And a lot of Europeans be movin into their dorms soon. Minus @McHaggis who's a loser and takes trains to Hogwarts. Ugh.

A Slightly Round Table

the past in a gnarled, twisted arm

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Teddy Foster - The Mundane

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● N A M E ●

Theodore Liam Foster

☇ _{Most people, and by most pretty much all of Verona, refer to Theodore as simply Teddy. It's short and sweet and kind of simple. If people like shorter, Ted's also a decent enough shorthand, though he isn't as fond of it and won't generally respond to it as quickly.}

● A G E ●

Twenty-six

● G E N D E R ●

Male

● O C C U P A T I O N ●

Owner of One Thousand Pages

☇ <sub>It was an... alternative, at first. Fresh out of his senior year of college with nothing really to show for it didn't really provide Teddy with much. So, he went back to the one place he knew he could escape to: Verona. There, he worked as a cashier for One Thousand Pages, doing what he could and living off the wage the old man provided him. And then, suddenly, that old man died. Mr. Henderson, people loved him, or the people who knew him did. Not anyone else, though. No children, no nephews, or cousins to give his belongings to. He signed one thing to Teddy in his will: the bookshop. Probably the only thing he could do outside of completely selling. Teddy doesn't question the man's decision; he deems it as luck and he'll settle.

So, Teddy takes care of the shop, has tidied up the place in the passing years and made it just a tad different. It still has that homely feel that he's always loved coming for. There's a few newer sections with newer books, and a whole spot in the corner for the kids who come by. He doesn't make much, just moved into the apartment above the shop, but it's something he's proud of. Lost and with nothing to show for his past, this is something he can settle down with.</sub>

● L O O K S ●

Teddy, the absolute fuckhead, had no prior knowledge of how to dress outside of, "this tank top shows off my muscles the best," while attending college. Back then, he had no need to care about his appearance. Things, items, affects were handed to him on a daily basis; he had friends who could pick out his wardrobe. However, with those days long passed, Teddy can be summed up as the oldest looking young man in this history of ever. It's a mix between future wine-club tasting and hitting the golf course the moment retirement begins. Just staunchly over fifty, but so looking forward to retirement.

That's a lot of words for 'Grandpa', but it's just a specific style of grandpa that Teddy kind of nails. He can rock a sweater vest, a pair of loafers, some thick-rimmed glasses (his eyesight is atrocious), and some crisp khakis when he wants to.

Outside of his wardrobe, Teddy still has the young man part down - he's fit, with as much trouble as he has maintaining a decent body mass, looks presentable, and only has a moderate amount of scruff lining his jaw. The only out of ordinary part being the gnarled, right arm usually hidden under a long sleeve. The muscles, the bone, all of it still works, but to a varying degree and causes him constant, if a bit dull, pain. And poor Teddy was not left handed after his accident. Regardless, he does his best with what he has and it since hasn't caused him much trouble, in the psychological department, anymore. He lives with it.

Teddy speaks in a heavy baritone, that's more lethargic than rumbling. He's got an accent native to Washington, though he and many others can't really tell.

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● P E R S O N A L I T Y ●

Tragedy has a great track record for mellowing out turbulent personalities - Teddy is no exception. For a long time, from elementary school to high school, Teddy's been loud, obnoxious, and above all else cocky. He's done what he wants to for years without anyone telling him no. His one parent, his father, was far too busy working double shifts as a nurse to bother with his only son. Thus, Teddy learned various ways of getting attention and affection, all of which inevitably led him down a road that garnered more enemies than it did friends.

College only exacerbated his attitude. With fame on the horizon, getting everything he wanted couldn't have been easier. People deferred to his judgement, followed his lead, and when he asked, he got. Teddy was a grade A asshole, misogynist, and one of the best frat boy douchebags on his campus. He could fuck up monumentally and no one would have given a shit.

In a karmic turn of events, he lost everything. He lost his scholarship, lost his 'friends', and lost every meaning to live. Star pitcher without an arm to throw or to bat with was utterly worthless and people told him that. They tolerated his attitude for as long as they could and when he had nothing left to give them, they all left. So, Teddy had no choice but to mellow out, to humble himself. Packing a bag for Verona, he took on a trivial job, lived out of his car for a few weeks, and ate the worst kinds of food imaginable.

To some degree, it worked. Teddy understood what it meant to be grateful. He learned how to help people and in return ask for help. None of it came easily, no, but Teddy soon learned how to draw from kindness rather than entitled cockiness. An attitude helped no one and Teddy knew that. Of course, there's a degree of stubbornness left in him and he'll throw a hissy fit if he doesn't get his way; he's quick to anger and has self-confidence issues directly linked to his arm; he hates pity and mistakes sympathy for condescension; and he's unbelievable loud still. But, Teddy cares about people a lot more and finds himself more comfortable with a book and a glass of wine with no one to disturb him. He likes listening to other people talk and tends to assist whenever he can. Oh, and he understands fully just how much women can utterly kick his ass in anything he tries his hand at.

● R O M A N T I C I N T E R E S T S ●

This one's been complicated for, probably, the entirety of Teddy's life. Suffice to say? He doesn't know. He's still figuring things out and most of his time's spent dealing with the shop rather than dealing with people. Of course, there's an inkling somewhere in his mind of an ideal partner, it's just buried in a pile of denial and years of hard-wiring his past social environment did to him. But, lately, he's been more accepting of allowing himself to maybe stare at a few guys that come by. And, perhaps, he's allowing himself to sit down and ruminate a bit on his past ventures with ladies and come to the conclusion that, no... it's not that he had 'no game', Teddy was both a misogynistic asshole then and he just wasn't into the lady bits. The lady parts. The ladies. He's not into females.

But, jeeze, maybe he'd like to sit down and just find someone to snuggle with once in awhile. To validate him. Maybe to dote on him a bit. Who knows. He gets flustered just thinking about it.

● O R I G I N S T O R Y ●

Everything's pretty much been said and done. Mostly, Teddy doesn't like looking back at his past self. That guy was just all around atrocious. From high school to college all Teddy did was ride on his talent and popularity. Looking back at it, it's obvious Teddy never would have made it past college baseball, especially not with the attitude he had. That kid was lazy, didn't train, was a snob, and volatile; treated his friends and teammates like dirt.

Teddy doesn't like his past and it's sad to say that everyone who staid in Verona kinda knows who Teddy is. And definitely knows what kind of person he was. Maybe even a lot of them look at him and think he deserved what happened to him. Teddy wouldn't argue, he'd agree. Maybe he'd even go so far as to say that things happen for a reason.

For the longest time, Teddy wanted nothing more than to be a star athlete. First, he wanted to go into the Olympics, then basketball, then football, then Wimbledon, until he finally settled on baseball. For a kid, he was amazing and that talent only shined through the further along he went. No one, not even the people who hated them, and they were numerous, could say that Teddy didn't win the Washington State Championships for Lincoln High. He did. He sure as damn well did. He recalls the moment when he's being nostalgic (for baseball) as one of those luck of the draw kind of things. Went right down to the wire, all the bases loaded, and he sinks a curve ball right past the bast and smoking hot into the catcher's glove.

That sent him far and into college where he also excelled. And, by far, Teddy wasn't an intelligent guy, more like average. More like C average, and for college that's more than okay. Even after his accident, he still didn't flunk out. If anything, schoolwork took his mind off of the shit storm going on around him.

As for the accident, itself, all of could honestly have been Teddy's fault. Of course, now he'd take the blame, but then he only took half. Both he and his friend, the shortstop on his team, had gotten absolutely wasted after training. It being winter that time, they only had to train a few times a week, in between their own workouts. Both he and Teddy thought it'd be fine if they just drove the small stretch from the bar back to their dorms. They'd only had like, what, ten or so shots? They'd be fine.

On the final stretch home, the truck they were in hit a rough patch of ice and being the idiots they were, they were going full pedal to the medal at 3 AM in the morning. The truck slid out and practically bent itself on a stoplight. Luckily, someone had witnessed the crash and called the police. His friend suffered a minor concussion and a fractured elbow, nothing seriously. Teddy, however, suffered far worse. When the car crashed and the glass broke, just before the door hit the post, his whole arm shoved its way in between and was nearly irreversibly smashed.

Every bone, from his fingers to his shoulder, was absolutely shattered. A doctor and a nurse reminded him that, if he hadn't worn his seat belt and if his arm hadn't done what it had, it likely would have been most of his head shattered, instead. Something like that. He doesn't understand how or if it was even possible. If the seat belt had saved his life entirely, or what. Teddy reckons it was just luck that his head didn't decide to smash itself into the light post with how forceful they'd hit it.

Of course, with that, Teddy lost pretty much everything. He lost his spot on the team, lost his scholarship for being unable to play, nearly flunked out of his classes, and just about lost his will to live. Being alive and relatively well, however, he's monumentally glad he hadn't lost his entire will to go on. Though, there are days where he wonders if the people around him would have even cared. Or the people he'd befriended in college. He almost feels like they wouldn't, what with how he acted.

After graduating with a degree in business that he had absolutely no idea what to do with, Teddy decided to haul back to Verona. With the accident happening just before his last semester, Teddy only amounted a meager amount of loans that doesn't, at all, resemble the mountain of debt most students wade through. Lucky on that part. However, that also meant he had absolutely no money to pay for anything and no job to earn money to pay for anything.

Most of Teddy's days were spent sleeping in his car before someone decided to hire him. An older man, Mr. Henderson, who owned the bookshop down main street. He offered him a place to stay while Teddy got back on his feet, as well as a job that paid only minimum wage - and the old man had the most distraught look, though Teddy reassured him it was enough and better than working at a McDonald's.

For about a year, Teddy kept the older man company. They talked for hours over the books that they'd read together or separately. He taught him how to steep tea and that tea alone should be good enough for him - he'd scold him for adding honey or sugar. And when Mr. Henderson's health visibly deteriorated, Teddy took up longer hours at the shop, despite Henderson lacking the money to pay him for overtime, and did his best to attend to the old man's needs. No one understands the meaning of humble until they've taken the time and care to wash someone obviously stricken by dementia head to toe. Or, well, maybe that's not the exact way to humble oneself, but it's a damn quick one.

Eventually, Mr. Henderson passed away one summer morning, and Teddy was, once again, lost as to what to do. Henderson's life insurance paid for just about all of his funeral arrangements, the rest coming from Teddy's pocket. He spoke a eulogy, despite only knowing him for about a year and a half, and let those individuals that did attend grieve in peace. Every single one individual was a Verona resident, which was odd, seeing as he must of had some kind of family.

It hit once he'd been called to hear out a reading of Mr. Henderson's will. The man donated just about everything he had to charity, all but the shop and the home above it. Those he gave to the only individual still alive that he considered his child: Theodore Foster.

With a shop he was now entitled to and a home he could live in, Teddy... had no idea what to do. So, he did the only thing he knew best: he cleaned and he decorated the hell out of the place. Every hour of work meant he'd be too busy to think about anything, until he could just fall face first into a bad and let his body drift into the void.

The next years were turbulent, a few of the kids around town staid around to help manage the place a bit better. A few left, the hooligans, mostly, but the ones that staid he gladly treated the best he could. Until, of course, the recent storm and illness that hit Verona. Knocked him out good for a few days, of which the shop wasn't earning any money, which meant he wasn't earning any money. Of course, with the big storm that ran through, much of what he'd be doing for the next week or so was cleaning up and helping any way he could. There's just something odd that he can't put his finger on; he feels different, almost. Not sick, but, just a gut feeling that something's not right.

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● S U P E R P O W E R ●

Bubble Forcefield

● P O W E R C L A S S I F I C A T I O N ●

Aberration

● A B I L I T I E S ●

It's a bubble, short and sweet, that acts as a protective barrier against anything outside of it (or potentially as a prison to entrap someone).

☀ At the moment, it can only encase an individual in a small bubble that's about 6 feet tall and 6 feet in radius.
☀ The bubble acts as a protective barrier, protecting the individual from all harm for as long as it remains up.
☀ The bubble is just as strong on the inside as it is on the outside; it's not passable and acts as a solid object.
☀ Eventually, with enough use and training, the bubble size can be increased, and the bubble itself may not depend on Teddy's own strength to stay up - though it's durability will be typically the same as if Teddy were holding it.

● W E A K N E S S E S ●

☀ Prolonged use of this can put a monumental strain on Teddy - he becomes disoriented, suffers a severe headache, and produces concussion like symptoms.
☀ At the moment, the bubble relies purely on Teddy to keep up, which makes him incredibly vulnerable if he isn't using it on himself.
☀ Once the bubble breaks, Teddy usually won't be able to put up another until he recovers fully. This usually brings the onset of the Stigma's symptoms immediately, as the bubble stems from Teddy's own stamina and energy.

Written: A Fairytale RP

_{prince phillip's apartment ⇒ fae's bar and diner
just wants his usual order, jess :( @MiddleEarthRoze}

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^{Rare is this love, keep it covered
I need you to run to me, run to me, lover
Run until you feel your lungs bleeding}

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He slouched over the edge - a burden laid dead weight against his back. The smoke twirled from his lips, pressed against the cracks in the surface and billowed in the cold sting of morning air. Rain pattered against the side of the building, a steady thrumming a head faster than the beating in his chest. He slouched further, let the scaffolding of his windowsill rustle underneath his cotton shorts. Wind carried the weight of trees and the quiet chirrups of a cuckoo intermingled between the low sounds of a mourning dove. Phillip craned his head low, let the sounds reach his ears before he hummed and leaned back.

A deep seated dread mocked him, hung above his head in the low light of dawn. Sleep came fleeting, sprinkled between restless dreams and that aggravating in between that taxed him more than gave him needed rest. The earthquake from a few hours prior had tossed him from a dreamless slumber, something deep and fulfilling. It dumped him on the side of the road and left him puttering behind, just within reach, but never able to grasp. It thrust him into bad habit after bad habit: alcohol, 'internet browsing' cut short from a power outage, brooding, and ultimately hanging precariously out of his window with a cigarette in his mouth and rain splattering against his entire front half.

Hours later, the call had nearly succeeded in tipping him over, though he caught himself mid jump. His grumbling stopped him from sliding back in and answering, letting the message beep and the voicemail go through. Eventually, Phillip told himself, his finger tapping the end of the cigarette over the edge. The ashes coated his bare knees and another grumble rumbled in his chest. The mourning dove stopped, addled by the rain and likely seeking shelter. Or something got it; he didn't see a hawk swirling by, but the rain wouldn't stop an animal from a good meal.

Contemplating wouldn't do him any good. It wouldn't provide him the next five hours he wanted of sleep, nor would it allow him respite from the day ahead. And it sure as hell wouldn't fix him any coffee. Yet, Phillip staid still, slouched over the scaffolding with his eyes peering onto the untouched grass below. How to avoid pestering neighbors? Paranoid tales looking toward him among others? They would, just out of sheer misfortune and not because he could do anything - everyone knew how capable they all were and he was no different. Still.

Phillip scowled, spitting out another billow of smoke from his lungs and tossing the snub of a cigarette into a bush below. He slid back, tucked himself in and swung into his room with much pause. The window sill shut with a click and he pattered through his small apartment and into the one bathroom he had. The water spouted cold for a good solid five minutes, of which left Phillip gritting his teeth until it turned a searing hot. He screamed for a good few seconds, unabashed and only slightly ashamed. It took longer to adjust to the swing in temperatures than it did getting cleaned. Once he did - adding in a few touch ups here and there - Phillip took a good long stare at his phone until he finally slid in a password and pressed the speaker to his ear.

Meeting. Library. Dorothy missing - dead, Phillip corrected himself. Dorothy was almost certainly dead. He rolled his eyes and let the phone bounce onto his mattress, still chattering away. Admitting anything was against everything Phillip stood for and the stubbornness that ran through him refused to let go. No Cataclysm. Not another one, that would take too much caring to deal with. Phillip pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, rubbed until light bloomed in his sight and growled at nothing. He slid his phone on again to check the time before tossing it aside once more.

Hours stood between him and something to do. Anything to do. Phillip shoved on enough clothes to be considered decent and left his apartment with as much haste as he could muster. Phillip's own concerns stopped at the low rumble of his stomach, quickly masked by his beat up truck's engine literally roaring to semi-life (Schrodinger's Vehicle, he called it). The ride to the library remained terse and Phillip idled in his truck for far too long before shifting back into gear and barreling away. No use wasting time likely sleeping on one of the desks - he settled for Fae's Diner and upon arrival, settled in the farthest booth he could find. His sneer passed over Beauty and Adam, then Sherlock before finally settling onto the leather across from him.

"I doubt coffee's going to help anyone," he mumbled, opening the menu, though he never did order anything different - two English muffin filled to the brim with egg, sunny-side, and bacon, never sausage and a side of hash browns with a hot, spattering cup of decaf, black as night coffee. He was certain Jess would already be exasperatedly cooking something up for him. Maybe. Phillip didn't spare a glance, his own pride getting in the way of a hearty meal. Aside from the earthquake, the call, the general sense of 'Oh shit, something's going down,' crawling all over his back and shoulders, it seemed like any normal day. Though, it was never a good sign if Phillip ever decided to step out of his home past noon, looking for something to eat with his usual coffee travel mug.

Written: A Fairytale RP

@Sailorsadie@Hunter of Dreams

I'll notify Undine! :o (there is a Flynn Rider on the way, so for the Rapunzel, if you're writing about anything concerning him, I'd suggest keeping it vague or shooting a PM to @flightless-angel-castiel if you'd like to discuss a few things with her)