Avatar of Wobbles
  • Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 56 (0.02 / day)
  • VMs: 0
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    1. Wobbles 9 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

9 yrs ago
Current Let me live!
9 yrs ago
The tired is real.
1 like

Bio

Greetings, mortals!

I'm Wobbles. You can call me Wobbles, Wobs, Aim, Amy, I don't care, whatever. I answer to anything. I'm a 17 year old girl, a senior in highschool, soon heading off to college. I've been roleplaying online for about 5 years on various forums. I also did a tour on Tumblr, but ..... eh, I'm back in black, ready to go, Jack. B) I'm literally the most friendly person out there, but I've been away from forums forever so give me a chance to get back into the swing of things! Also, I call everyone man, bro, and dude as gender-neutral terms. Take no offense.

I generally prefer roleplays centered around quality and plot. I'll probably be stalking the advanced and casual forums mostly, but if you want to 1x1, hit me up. My favorite genres are sci-fi, fantasy, post-apocalyptic/dystopian, mystery, and realism, though I'll gladly hit up any other genre that tickles my fancy. Here's my roleplay!

That's all for now..... I reserve the right to add more. B)

Skype: skeletrash
Instagram: wolveramy
If I like you, you can ask for my iMessage number. B)

Most Recent Posts

Posted, though it's super small.


The voices on top of the wall grew louder, and the guard gave no response. Some of the voices faded away, and as some of them died off, the guard's gaze turned skyward. Following the guard's line of sight, Milo found a brightly outlined silhouette gliding through the superheated air high over the city. Milo hoisted his backpack up on his shoulder and shielded his eyes from the sun as a harpy soared above him. He couldn't help but give a giddy smile and wave to her. He itched to be inside the walls, and seeing the winged woman's form above him sealed the deal.

As she settled next to him, Milo grinned even bigger. He couldn't resist – he stared at her wings with a helpless fascination. Soon enough he tore his eyes away, though, and blinked at her with wide eyes. "Howdy," he said, sticking his hand out for a shake. He smiled at her, a genuine, almost slaphappy smile. "I'm Milo. Milo Brooks."
Alright, well, due to some real life things, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull out. Nothing against you guys – I'm pretty bummed. I was looking forward to participating but I just don't have time. Sorry, all. Enjoy yourselves! :)
@Samara Agate more like A-GREAT amirite? Anyway, she looks great! Would you mind if she was Mind? No pun intended.
ROLE: HEART.

Name: Found.

Age: 20

Height/Weight: 5'3", 102 lbs

Body type: Scrawny, but lithe. Most of her height is in her legs.

Scent: Vanilla & pine.

Texture: Soft, for the most part, but jagged where her scars/wounds are.



Action tags: Crossing arms, hunching over, playing footsie with herself.

Verbal tags: Says "Mm?" and "Alright" a lot. Soft-spoken, quiet – almost always speaks with a smile. She has a slight Scandinavian accent.

Personality tags: Kind, calm, earnest, quiet, observant, and persistent. Though soft-spoken, her point almost always carries substantial weight. She never tries to talk over anyone, but waits until they're finished to say what she has to say. And, though she's observant, she cannot keep her bearings for the life of her.

Skills, Abilities, and Talents: Endurance, encouragement, and healing. Though not a practiced doctor, she has a knack for patching up wounds and using roots & compounds for food or ointments. She's very talented at getting lost.

Personality: Though Found is, as a general rule, gracious and kindhearted, she's not one to let someone be abused or rolled over. If they won't stand up for themselves, she'll stand up for them. She's brave, but not fearless. Her bedside manner is almost impeccable, but she can't help but get attached to those around her. She's overflowing with love, compassion, and it's got to go somewhere. She's immensely trusting, and will never break her word.

Admirable personality traits: Trustworthy, loving, unifying, peace-making, and courageous.

Negative personality traits: Aloof, easily frightened, self-conscious, and over-deliberating.

Things that make them angry: Cruelty, arrogance, hatred, and someone sneaking up on her blind side.

Fears: Snakes, getting lost, getting left behind, and those she loves dying.

Method of handling fear: Ironically, taking long walks. She talks to herself when walking.

Bad habits or vices: Hides her hands behind her back. Gets lost. Rubs her eyesocket a lot.

Most painful experiences in character’s past: When Found was young, she survived the initial bombing of Oslo, Norway. In one of the attacks, she was caught too near a bomb, and it tore out her eye and damaged her hands and arms. Her parents had died in a previous bombing run. She endured the pain for almost a month, wandering the Norwegian wasteland alone, hungry, and scared, until the Seeders picked her up.

Summarize character’s Fatal Flaw: Found needs to overcome both fear and personal loyalty. She has to realize that anyone can be taken away from her at any time, and if she lets that fear overwhelm her, she won't be able to function.
Accepted! I'll edit the sheet when I get home tomorrow.
Well, I haven't posted yet as the San Clemente group seems inactive.
Rated M for mature/triggering content, including language & violence.
NO LONGER ACCEPTING.



Monument's surface was positively buzzing with life. The sky was dappled with pinks and blues, and a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees. The breeze carried on its gusts the cries of several Rykes, calling to each other from across the land. It was chilly, and the water's surface rippled with the force of the draft. The goosereeds stood tall and proud, with their heads unbent, at the base of the towering structure rising from the still water. A small streambed flowed from the top of the structure and ran between the goosereeds's roots. In every direction, the still water stretched to the horizon. An ocean, of sorts – upon closer inspection, perhaps a lake. To the east was a small ridge poking toward the sky, heavily shrouded by mist. A day's walk, perhaps. However, at the center of this lake stood an imposing obelisk. It rose tall, perhaps a hundred feet or more – two poles that shot up straight and curved to meet each other at the top. In the middle was a loose latticework, decorated with occasional stained glass or painting. It was a striking white, like it had just been built. At the bottom was a rock, with a plaque on it. To the left was a smaller, simpler version of the stele. That was it – the first Monument. The plaque read, in bold lettering:

Welcome to Monument. Do not be afraid, you are safe here. We have chosen this planet for your well-being and
population. You are to discover the reason for your being here by solving seven puzzles. The solution to the
first lies in this riddle:

I have no eyes but I have a head. I do not sleep but I share my bed.
When winter strikes I cannot die, and my silver colors cannot lie.
Uproot me to uncover the key to find the way across the sea.


A small distance away from the monument, the water began to churn. A sharp, gritty whistle emerged from just beneath the waters surface, and the whole sea rumbled gently. The rykes stopped calling, and for a moment, everything was deathly still, leaning in to see what the Still Sea had to offer from its churning depths. Slowly, five singularities rose from the water. As the water poured off each of them, it became clear that they were boxes – approximately seven by three, sealed across the middle, and with absolutely no markings on them whatsoever. Once the boxes were elevated above the water's surface, the whistling and rumbling stopped. Nothing happened for a long while. The rykes did not call. The breeze had stopped, as if it was holding its breath for the arrival of the strange boxes.

When she woke up, she felt her head pounding madly, as if she hadn't been breathing. She gasped, gulping in air desperately and painfully. Briefly, she wondered if she was dead. As her heart settled, her surroundings came into focus – that is to say, she noticed she was in a box. If she had been herself, she would have wondered if it were a coffin. However, all she could do was press her hands to the lid – at first, gently; then with a panicked fervor that left her pounding at it with her palms and beginning to suffocate again. Primal instinct drove her, and nothing more. She didn't know where she was, or how she got there. All she wanted was out, out, OUT –––

With a hiss, the box's lid slid open. Bright light spilled in, and she took a sharp breath, covering her eyes to the light. When she sat up, it took her a moment to adjust to the view. Water? Water.. It took a few seconds for everything to sink in – the fact that she didn't remember anything; that when she opened her mouth, no words would come out; that she was in a coffin, surrounded by an ocean. Abruptly, tears sprung to her eyes and welled over. In the eerie silence of the Still Sea, the first noises were the gentle sobs of her first witness.
Rated M for mature/triggering content, including language & violence.
NO LONGER ACCEPTING.



They called themselves Seeders. At least, that’s what their message said when you first arrived on Monument. You don’t remember them – but their message was carved
into a plaque on the structure that reached to touch the sky. The message told you what you were, but not who. Who am I? you wonder, but you have little time to answer this question, before four others join you, silently. Together, you read the message, over and over. You ask yourselves questions, wordlessly. Where are we? Who are we? Why are we here?

The message promises to answer these questions, should you reach the next Monument. It takes a moment, but you can see its shape looming far in the distance. The journey would be perilous, and you feel weak. But you're curious. So curious... Will you go, stranger? Will you seek your answers?












· Basics ·

Name: Unknown. Simply goes by "Funky."
Age: Early 20s.
Gender: Female.
Sexuality: Bisexual.

· Survival ·

Faction: The Mile-High Club.
Gear/weapons: A pipe for hitting, a pipe for smoking, an old jammed gun, and a rusty machete. Whatever she picks up, really.
Skills: TRACKING, hunting/hiding.
Powers: Night vision + strong bones.

· Appearance ·




· Other ·

Personality: Relaxed, calm, and level-headed. Most people are unsure if this is from chems, or just her personality. She makes good decisions – at least, for herself. She's fairly selfish, and operates on a need-only basis. These needs are generally limited to her two chems, food, and shelter. Anything else is a luxury. Though she doesn't speak much, she grins, smirks, and otherwise makes smart alek expressions. Her favorite expression is "funky," which is where her name came from. She's never told anyone her real name – in fact, nobody's sure she even has a name other than Funky.

History:

Funky's parents were members of the Saints of the Wild. She loved them dearly, and they loved her back. Both were doctors, travelling with their little band of helpers to heal and restore those they found. Quite simply, they taught her to "do good and be kind" to all those she met, and the favor would be returned. She believed this with all her heart.

When she was 9, her parents realized she showed all symptoms of Courier's Disease – a virus that causes lesions and ruptures internally. Immediately they attempted to treat her with conventional methods, but none would work. In desperation, they bought a drug from a sectional of the Mile-High Club. It wasn't a cure, but it stopped the bleeding for a day or two. It was a catch-22 for her parents – their daughter would become dependent on a narcotic, but would be saved from a painful death.

When Funky was 12, her parents took in a Buzzard that had been badly injured in a shootoff. They nursed him back to health, cautiously – they kept him cuffed at all times. The Buzzard convinced Funky's mother to unlock the cuffs because of the pain they were causing him, and when she did, he brutally murdered her, and her husband. Funky was left alive, but with a scar to show for it. It winds from her upper ribcage to her lower back.

Funky now lives with the Mile-High Club. She is not nearly as dependent as most of them – she only takes the medication for Courier's, and an anti-depressant. However, both of these can impede her skills, powers, and judgement. She also suffers from alcoholism.

Etc: Give it a listen.
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