Ruby City Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rubycitymods) wrote2012-01-13 01:45 pm
rubycitymods) wrote2012-01-13 01:45 pm
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APPLICATIONS
✗ Applications are processed weekly, every weekend. The cut-off time for the submission of applications is 11:59PST on Saturday.
✗ Before applying, please read the FAQ and Rules pages.
✗ Please submit your application with the journal you plan to use if you have one made already. If not, another journal is fine, but we prefer your intended journal so it makes for an easier time in granting access to the mod journal and the contacts page.
✗ For very long applications, we would ask you to please separate them into various comments so that they will not take up too much of the page.
✗ Please title your application as { [CANON/CANON OC/OC]CHARACTER NAME || Series Title || reserve/no reserve || X of X } in the subect header
✗ IMPORTANT: Our application form was edited on September 07, 2015. Please use the revised form.
✗ If you are looking for an example of what an application should be like, please refer to the application here for an example of a canon character application, and here for an original character application.
✗ Canon Application
✗ Canon OC Application
✗ OC Application
A note for CR AU applications
Ruby City does allow previous game history/CR to be brought over on a case by case basis. If you want to include this in your application please add additional sections for PERSONALITY DEVELOPMENT and PREVIOUS GAME HISTORY beneath the Personality and Background/History sections.
In these additional sections we would like to see a brief outline of your character's previous game history and how it potentially impacted on and altered their canon personality.
[CANON] Caliborn || Homestuck || Reserve || 2 of 3
Name: Caliborn
Canon: Homestuck
Timeline: The last sleep shift from Calliope to Caliborn before Calliope was murdered.
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: I am apping as both Calliope and Caliborn, since they are sharing a body. Splitting it up with another player would provide continuity errors like Calliope walking around while Caliborn is awake, or bodily states not carrying through from earlier actions. Since neither can both be awake at the same point in time, there is never a chance for them stumbling into one another, or holding extensive. As it stands I have no reason to play out them interacting with one another since they’d be having to slip into this sleeping and waking cycle with short comments in between until it became ridiculous.
Personality: Calliope and Caliborn are two halves of a coin. While his sister is a caring and affectionate creature, he is her polarized self. Hostile and malicious, he takes a great deal of pleasure in being the aggressor to his sister’s collaborator. He is both antagonistic and demanding in his communication, and does not so much make friends, as gather those with high tolerance into his company. Calliope regards him as little more than a mild annoyance, but he views his sister as an endless source of contempt and an object to be conquered. A dose of antagonism between the personalities of growing Cherubs is entirely natural; however, Caliborn is impatient and like any fool without a full grasp of the consequences of their actions, fully intends to speed up the process of his sister’s inevitable death. It’s with this same blind fervor that he approaches much of anything, acting before fully thinking anything through.
Throughout his growth, he was given everything he could want or need. Their rearing, while neglectful to most species, was damn near spoiling rotten to a Cherub. Calliope managed to escape the coddling with little feelings of entitlement, but Caliborn was severely affected. He runs on the belief that whatever he likes, be it his odd taste in “pornography” or the compliance of others, should be handed to him. On times when he isn’t provided with what he wants, he will react with tantrums that can range from rude to violent. Even when given everything he could possibly want, it doesn’t protect others from his petulant outbursts.
Unlike his sister, he isn’t capable of seeing others as friends or even equals. The idea of friendship is entirely awful to him, as he has stated many times that the idea alone is disgusting, and that there are none that he sees in such a light. In his eyes, a person’s worth is measured first by gender, and second in how well they can serve his needs. The highest he could see another beyond a useful servant, would be someone he wants to dub his “bro”, a strong, intelligent male figure that he wrongly believes is his equal, or at least close to such. As of yet, Dirk Strider is the only person to fit this requirement. All others, especially women, are seen to be useless until they prove to be useful enough for him to manipulate him to his needs. His views on women as a whole are entirely misogynistic, seeing them both as sexual objects to fetishize, and “useless bitches” who by virtue of gender, are incapable of accomplishing anything of real worth. This view may have been born out of his contempt for his sister, coupled with his own ignorant and cruel nature.
While he is the “evil half” of the two, there are a plethora of standards which he abides by. Caliborn has a near obsession with games, and by proxy, their rules. Rules are things that he abides by, to an almost zealous degree, preferring to work his way around them rather than outright break them as his sister would. Lies are rare, and used sparingly. Even when he makes an attempt to manipulate Jake later in his storyline, he has no issues in being blunt and bold faced calling Jake an idiot in the midst of trying to make nice. Though, when confronting Jane, he tried to pass off his antagonism as a bid for friendship, while skewing the terms he was using to keep his lies to a minimum. Even when playing chess with his sister, he kept within the outlined rules of the game, and refrained from lying during a dubious play of disguising his king as his queen and vice versa. His bluntness forms a parallel to his sister’s secretive nature.
Jigsaw-like games and twists may be the only things he loves, but they are far from his only hobbies. Both he and his sister hold a fascination for human romance, though his interest is more fetishistic than wanting to participate. Since love, and gentle gestures of affection are a so far separated from the Cherub’s own form of attraction, he views it as something wrong, and erotic. Caliborn Fetishizes affection due to its exoticness. As of recent he has also tried his hand at art, a jab at his sister’s talent. For the moment, he’s still generally awful at the practice.
Caliborn as a whole is cruel, stupid, and spoiled, but the power and luck behind him make him a dangerous enemy.
First Person: [A monstrous green creature tumbles from the door of the train, red dripping from the deep cuts of his knuckles and chunks of upholstery still clamped tightly between his teeth. Once he has left the car, the train starts to back out of the station, chunks of glass falling out of the window he’d broken as it wobbles back and away.
Caliborn spits out the chunk of what was his train seat.]
LIMP HOME!
[He’d have riddled the whole place with holes were his beloved gun in his possession. It’s truly safer for the general populace that it isn’t.
He dusts his clothes off, and picks the glass from his hand, more an afterthought than anything else.
It takes some time (and one squirrel that he is now picking from his teeth) for him to come to terms with his surroundings, as they are neither blinding red and covered in gaudy jpeg. artifact statures, nor the dull grey metal of his home. There isn’t even purple, so that counts out this as a dream. Considering those are the only places he has ever known, he is pretty much at a loss here. No way of knowing where he is, and no gun to murder things with make Cal a dull boy. No, angry boy. That makes Caliborn a very angry boy.
It’s as he bends over to remove one of his manacles that he notices a gold pocket watch at his feet. A classy item, for a classy man. Since there are no classy men present, Caliborn will be taking it.
When he finds that he has utterly no idea just how the miserable thing even works, he smashes it on a street lamp several times. And then throws it against a wall. Just for good measure. The video feed starts up, broadcasting a toothy green skullbeast with an awful fashion sense as he goes to pick up his watch for yet another round of abuse.]
Third Person:
TT: Anyway. Got to go.
TT: Your drawing blows.
TT: Later.
Caliborn stared at the screen long after he had gone idle, staring at the orange text that had so callously berated his personal art style. Anyone with functioning eyeballs could see that the two of them were sharing a rather steamy look of mutual respect, the scene alone made him a little hot under the collar. Beneath the two of them were the titled ‘bitches’, wrapped in the tender embrace that humans called ‘a tickle fight’. Natural indignation called for shit to be wrecked, but perhaps not quite as wrecked as he was entirely capable of. He and Dirk shared the bond of bros after all, a ‘bromance’ if he was allowed to get particularly raunchy about it all. Strider was the least repulsive of all his little group and he did have quite a bit of artistic experience, perhaps he would need to improve before he was finally recognized as the human’s rightful superior.
After he was able to finally kill Strider—a quick and almost painless procedure compared to what Caliborn has planned for his friends—he would have to pin a completed work to the bloodsoaked corpse. An image of them, ahem, holding hands seemed perfect for the occasion. So vulgar.
However, it was difficult to garner approval from a bloated cadaver. Perhaps he would keep the most capable of the humans alive, long enough at least to admire his pure talent when it came to erotic art. He could even paint his final piece in the blood of the witless bitches and bumbling ape that Dirk called friends. If he begged nearly enough, Caliborn may even let him live. A strong and capable human would make an excellent crony for his needs.
Boys could dream.
Dreams that were burst with one glance at his current skill. Like any aspiring artist, he would have to practice to hone his ability. Murder plans would have to wait for until such a time that Dirk’s dead or possibly living body could gape vacantly at his prowess with a pen. His bitch sister—who would preferably also be dead at this juncture in time—would have to give up her title of an artist in utter shame at being bested in yet another aspect. It’s that image that he used as fuel for his ‘art’. For once, Calliope might just hold up her duties as a muse for once.
Each new depiction of his sister’s demise and his own pleasure was stuffed away into his sylladex for her to retrieve upon waking. For good measure, he whipped slabs of meat off toward his sister’s half of the room, knocking over her books in a splatter of lukewarm blood and meat hunks.
[CANON] Calliope || Homestuck || Reserve || 3 of 3
Name: Calliope
Canon: Homestuck
Timeline: The last sleep shift from Calliope to Caliborn before Calliope was murdered.
Personality: Upon first impression, Calliope is often seen to be a friendly, if somewhat odd, person. Being the benevolent half of the whole, she embodies the nobler and kinder attitudes her that brother lacks. These attitudes extend to the polite fashion in which she types, the chipper attitude she puts on for her friends, and the naïve expectations of her own brother. Her natural disposition makes it easy to make friends and to become a trusted confidant to those she cares about. However, this inevitably leads to her downfall. Though facing unfortunate circumstances and a rapidly approaching expiration date, she has only reach out for help and broken her brother’s carefully laid rules once, by sharing her name with Roxy. It is her own altruistic attitude and inaction mixed with her brother’s violent and untrustworthy nature that ultimately lead to her own death.
During the time of her growth, and contact with the alpha sburb session, she learns a great deal, both about the ultimate game at play, as well as her species, and several others. This information is later used to make her serve the part of a conductor, guiding her human friends on their prescripted adventures. She takes her role with relative glee, fitting her role as a muse, while only sharing their story in spirit. She holds a sort of jealousy towards her human friends, and the adventure that they have started but she has not, however even that remains good natured and friendly.
Even with being the good half to her brother’s bad, it isn’t correct to say that she is entirely incapable of being uncouth. Although the better half of the two, she is not above teasing, or downright verbal abuse. The more volatile of her emotions are often directed at Caliborn when he manages to wear thin the massive wall of patience she holds for him. Calliope is also not above lying, finding no issue in using half-truths to her own benefit. Never outright lying, she has led others down logical routes that were found later to be entirely false. This makes her out to be less of the good to his bad, and more the yin to his yang. Completing rather than opposing.
Calliope has quite a few hobbies under her belt, which more than likely were taken up when her company proved to be entirely unbearable on his own. Both her art and writing act as an escape, one where her idealized self, a troll self-insert “Callie Opheee”, is able to go on adventures with her far-flung friends, and make romantic advances that her own species are entirely incapable of. Along with her regular writings there are some of her less innocent works of fiction, all sure to include questionable anatomy, and practices. Her unwillingness to share these specific works is understandable. On the occasions she is even willing to brave the tedium of back and forth sleeping patterns and her brother’s attitude, Calliope enjoys playing chess and openly mocking Caliborn’s clumsily strategic attempts like any good sister would.
Ultimately though, Calliope is still a young girl, and one with little to no sense of self. From her appearance, to her brother’s abuse, they all lead to her self-esteem being exceptionally low. Mix that in with how hard it is for her to reach out for help, and you get a little girl who idolizes everything she herself is not. Her fascination with troll culture is based in wanting to be something besides herself. Her love for beautiful things and romance she cannot feel are attempts. Her own reality that she had long accepted would end in her eventual death and Caliborn’s predomination. Though set in the ideal that her own doom was inevitable, Calliope still remains optimistic that at least some part of her will survive.
However, she may simply be lying to herself.
First Person: [The first time she wakes up, its on the pavement. Not a pleasant event, but hardly a new one either. Passive aggressive sleeping spaces (more aggressive than passive at this point) are somewhat of a norm when it comes to her brother. On the other hand, the breeze creeping up her left pantleg is not.
A cursory glance of her surroundings tells her many things, and nothing at all. Yet another staple of Caliborn’s tantrums. Far be it from her to actually want to wake to some sort of rational situation and not in her brother’s next disaster. That would be far too easy.
An inventory of the situation must be taken, the yellow light that stings her eyes, and the cold pavement below her are tucked away under ‘unusual conditions’. Simply having unusual conditions is placed under that category as well. Her shoes and jacket are nowhere to be seen, along with every other possession she holds dear. No food toss over the ground, no crushed chess pieces strewn across the communal area, not even a communal space so to speak of. All she has are dull buildings she’s never seen before, not glimmering and gold like Prospit, but not the blistering metal prison of her home. Even the manacle meant to keep Caliborn out of her things, the supposedly unbreakable juju, is has been severed along the joint in the chains. She can only be thankful that he’d avoided drastic measures to remove it.
Small victories and all that.]
Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
[Calliope brushes her clothes clean of the street rubble as she stands, shifting on bare feet as she inches toward the opening gangway. Her claws scrape loudly against the pavement, matching with the clink of metal from her shackle, each sound making her wince. How she longs for her make-up, or at least her own clothes, something, anything to make her even vaguely presentable.
The buildings at either side pull away and suddenly she feels so very nude. Because there is light and movement and voices that are not her own. She feels wrong here, a hulking green monster when all else is not. She can’t even bring herself to approach the strangers milling about, as it takes everything in her not to curl about her awkward limbs.
Pardon me? Can anyone help me?
[Her voice is small, awkwardly bit out from between a mouth of teeth, but she tries again.]
Excuse me? I seem to be lost.
Third Person: “Tonight was magical.” Jane blushed, a human expression of both embarrassment and arousal.
“It really was.” Callie replied, also blushing as that was a thing trolls were also capable of. The two sat curled across a picnic blanket, bathed in the yellow light of their healthy star. The night had dragged on, and only they were left in the lush garden, them and the company of their ever present sun.
Their human date was coming to a close, and neither wanted to leave. The company of the other was simply too precious to go without, even for only a night’s sleep. Their tangled fingers, and the sweet, bloodless kisses ate up the passing minutes, until all they knew were each other. Jane gently pushed Callie back onto the checkered blanket, as she whispered loving words into tender cartilage nubs.
“Are you sure we’re ready for this? I don’t want this if you don’t.” Jane’s voice was smooth, without the unnatural slurring of the alcohol that she had given up for Callie’s sale. It was hardly a question of her being ready, she would give anything to Jane.
“Who wouldn’t want to make love to their matesprit?” They shared one last kiss, far deeper than the last few.
Hands roamed, seeking out sleek, scaly hides for as long as they could touch. The kiss separated as snakeish maws could no longer hold the embrace, and all was left was the slip of scales on scales as they rolled off into the grass and writhed for dominance to decide just who’s womb their unborn child would inhabit.
Jane gasped as a warm white tongue flickered out over her slick hide-
---
An alert from pesterchum made Calliope jump a whole six inches out of her chair, blindly slamming her fanfiction journal shut as if to hide the raunchy tales from prying eyes that did not exist. It was a truly silly reaction, it was hardly as if anyone featured within her written works would ever read them. Her only company was Caliborn, and given prime conditions, she would prefer to keep her work a good fifty feet away from his range. Given the circumstances, she settled for the full length of the measly two and a half yards of personal space she possessed.
Still though, even knowing that her friends would never find out the wretched, awful things she made their, and her own, fictional avatars do, there was still that nagging embarrassment. Embarrassment made all the worse with how Jane’s chumhandle flashed on her screen. Poor sweet innocent Jane, she would never know of the chapters of fanfiction devoted purely to both her and her friends.
It was really best that way.
ACCEPTED
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