( 2020 october edit; how and why is this so popular cool tht y'all r having fun though. i still hate how i worded this post but it was like 2018 or smth ) ( this thread was made like 2 years ago, i literally hate how i typed back then hfdjvddjnf )
Pretty self-explanatory. You post IC *and also say it in-character* and look at their character (backstory n stuff, or just appearance) and say what your oc would envy about that oc. Optional: Edit your post saying how your character would respond to the OCs envy.
For example...
Echo: Hi (starter post idk)
Azazel: You have so many weapons and handy tools, dude, you gotta have one for like, every situation right? I'm so jelly man-
(idk)
Rules: You can post again after 5 posts please do it with a different character or different version (( although after the second post of yours is uh,, well posted, and after 5 posts you can use that chara again! )) If you/your oc say(s) anything offensive, please put it as a spoiler, make the color white, or black it out. You can access the black out thing by using the color tool and going to background =P (( I regret using that emoji in my past, please end me ))
That's all I gotta say really. Hit me with your best shot~!
all of my forum games fail i swear- (edit: except this one apparently.)
(Wow, you people really like to be envious of each other.)
//////////// ( response; True, I-i suppose. All that robots really do need is an engineer, a-after all. Though a bad thing is that all of my friends who aren't immortal like some of my friends, i'll eventually see their d-death. Though, i could be reprogrammed to forget the friend(s) in question, but t-that'd be horrible!... )
(AYEEEEEEEEE WARHAMMER)
"WIT OW MUCH YOU GITZ FLASH ABOUT WIT YER SHIPS AND YOUR 'EMPRAH' I TEND TA FINK DAT YOU LOT....You gitz ain't gotta worry bout bein backstabbed by some otha morka. I 'ad my entia klan try an flip me out. Zoggin elpen da blue gitz, da spiky ear funny gitz, an you damn beakys got me unpopular wit da ladz. I wanna go back ta da days where fings were as simple as krump chaos. Datz all you gitz gotta do"
"Oh, this is embarrassing, my good sir," Xander said underneath his breath. "But sometimes I wish I had a bit more strength. Especially in the arms you see," the singer confessed. Before showing Balanka his arms. "I envy your raw powers. As I sometimes have trouble opening a jar, my good sir. Isn't that embarrassing." He laughed. Though, it was an obvious way of coping. "I don't think I ever achieve Ork strength, nor a power claw but, ah. Maybe some day I own a jar opener, sir."
--
Xander was browsing through some of his paperwork, oblivious to Wraith's staring. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he pushed the next paper aside with his thumb. Who knew that owning an automobile required so much paperwork?
"I don't know, sir," he muttered absentmindedly on Wraith's question. How was he going to do this? All these paperworks, for just one mobile. Xander frowned as he realized Wraith wasn't talking about his documents and looked up. "Pardon me, I was talking about the papers. Can you clarify your question? Sir?" Xander's eyes met those of Wraith, and he nodded encouragingly. "Fate touched… That's a nice word for it." Xander broke eye contact and leaned back in his seat as well. "Ah," he said. "I wasn't… Angry when it happened to me. I was scared," Xander confessed. "Not of myself, I'm no Nathaniel," he added with a breathy laugh before quickly shake his head. "I was scared of people, you see. I was terrified when I was walking alone on the street. Taking the tram all by myself, you get the idea." Xander put down his papers. "But I had my daughter to help me. She had a lot of patience. A lot of it, and I own a lot, to her, actually. Singing helped me too. It helped me relaxed those nerves, gave me my grip back on reality. I still sometimes have trouble, sir. I'm still afraid of places… The dark. Knives or other sharp objects." Xander's frown deepened. "But I know that's something I have to work on. It's easier said than done, believe me, young sir. I make mistakes too. But… It's just best to grow from them, recognize your pattern and… Adjust it slightly. One step at a time, sir." Xander smiled at Wraith. "Recovery is not a race. And I'm proud of how far you've got already."
Wraith was sitting in Xanders home, thoughts running through his head; the pair of them couldn't have been more different when it came to personality. But yet, Wraith was slightly intrigued, if not a little confused about how the other was. "How do you do it Xander?" Wraith asked, his eyes looking at Xander in the seat opposite him, who was now showing a sign of confusion at the shifters words. "You carry the scent of a fate touched, so I know you've been through some hardship......but yet...." Wraith slumped back in his seat, conflicted on whether he should continue....well, to late to turn back now. Wraith gave a faint shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto the floor with a new found interest. "......yet you are still so kind to those around you, even if you don't really know them."
He wasn't sure whether the silence was from Xander waiting for him to continue, or if he was taken back by Wraiths words. "I guess you could say I envy your kind nature, you didn't let negative experiences, whatever they may have been, turn you into someone cold and hateful."
Into someone like me. Wraith added silently in his head.
Santiago had to stand his distance from the murals in order to not trespass on Wraith's 'territory'. The last thing he wanted to do was to make himself seem hostile, when his intentions were the exact opposite. He only wanted to stare in awe at the murals that towered before him.
Everything about them was incredible. The necromancer could see the unraveled rage unleashed within them. His heart felt wounded by all the distress. Forget being torn to shreds by Wraith's jaguar - Santiago would rather have that than be the victim of one of his spray paint pictures.
For a moment, he thought about saying something to Wraith. But he backed out when he took another look at him, sitting on the edge of the roof turned away. The last thing he wanted to do was to disrupt the mind of someone currently suffering.
If only I had the skills to draw or paint like this, he thought. Everyone would understand me. They could see the things I deal with when I work with spirits. None of the kids at my school would have made fun of me because I wouldn't have cried so much. I would have just put my feelings into pictures And...and maybe...
Santiago paused. He straightened his face, heading toward the staircase to leave the rooftop.
Maybe I could have controlled myself when I lost my father.
(dang i kinda wrote a lot, np don't feel pressured to match me)
"Whoa, bro, you are like... totally rad. Like, your scythe is so cool? And that holy water! That's so wicked! I didn't even know you could get the blood of a saint, that's so righteous!" Chad gushed, waving his hands around his head to emphasize how mindblown he was. "I'm so totally jealous over your weapons, brah, but, like, that's not all. You're a totally rad person, ch'yeah. Like, you're so dedicated and determined. You work hard to be like your dad, right? That's rad. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that not all monsters are monsters, y'know? But with how you work with these ghosts and all, I see it all in a different perspective. I wish I had totally the same kind of attitude as you when I started, ch'yeah. Anyways, you got an Instagram?"
Puzzles paced back and forth around chad, examining the man. Her tail twitched, she seemed has if she was repressing sinister emotions through a giddy facade. She clapped her hands, grinning
" ohhh friend chad!! I envy you, you know that?? Hee hee!"
Puzzles giggled, it wasnt a very warm fun giggle however. But thats what she was trying to pass it has.
" friend chad got a childhood!! He didnt get abandoned at the lil cemetary! Lucky friend chad!!"
Puzzles let out a startling, loud cackle, one of pain. A desprate cackle.
" you were tolerable!! Tolerable!! Tolerable!!! Tolerable!!!!! AHAHAHAHA "
puzzles began laughing, but of chad listened close he could hear sobs mixed into those cackles... chad should RUN
“Man I wish I still had my childhood stuffie!” IcyHot frowns. “Unfortunately I lost it while o was getting booted from my home planet. I hope whoever has it takes care of it…” IcyHot sighs.
"Sometimes I wished I was a little bit more intimidating," he confessed to IcyHot. Salvador frowned. He looked the alien over. "Like you. I bet you scare off people with that face of yours." He went so far as pointing at IcyHot's face. Encircling its outline with his finger.
"Yes. You do look a pretty scary."
"You have an ability to manipulate time and matter, interesting. I envy you having such powers, I speak as I don't have such magic powers myself unfortunately." Dr. Athanasiadis gave a fruit to the man, the fruit spoiled quickly as the man holds it with his bare hands "I've seen stories about people absorbing themselves with solid matter, but I never seen such matter manipulative abilities that changes organic matter. It's a dangerous gift you have, but you seem to impress me."
__________
"Thank you for your kind words" he commented to the man who visited the professor's classroom. "It's a great pleasure that you enjoy the music. You are interested in learning music, aren't you? After my work, I am open with teaching other people at the villa on the mountains where I live. Whether it's music, farming, or history."
"Dr. Athanasiadis. It's a bit surprising to view you as an esteemed professor considering my first impression was on the stage with a band," Allegro chuckled lightly as he walked into the empty classroom. "I'm only teasing, but there's truth to it. I didn't expect such a different occupation. I hope your students appreciate it." He held up a poster advertising Chaotic Path, one he'd seen after sneaking out of his home. "Your show was very good, by the way. The emotion in your voice was powerful, I feel it amplified the music. I'm envious, honestly. I study classical, though I've always been interested in other, modern genres, but I can't put that much emotion into my own voice. Professor, perhaps you could give me a couple lessons? I'd be grateful."
v Allegro pondered it. "Is it really being carefree? Many believe I am, but when I sit and think to myself I'm often listening to the heartbeats surrounding me. I listen to the songs that come from everyone. It humbles me; grounds me. It reminds me of what's important, and that sometimes it's best to slow down and keep myself from worrying over a signature here, or a paper clip there. Taking a moment to be with oneself has benefits, and if I were to exhaust myself constantly with worries and frustrations over every part of my job I would only do more harm than good in the end."
He smiled. "Why don't you sit down with yourself sometime and go over that question? Sit alone with your thoughts long enough and you'll find you're a bigger delight to talk to than you think."
"Tell me, Allegretto, how are you so carefree?" Onyx asked, eye narrowed as they held their sword tightly. They were sure it wouldn't go unnoticed. They were angry, angry and envious. How dare he be carefree and lazy when they must spend their days taking care of others? How dare he go and die before he taught them how he did it. How dare he be dead.
"I envy you, really. I don't remember a day in my long life when I was carefree. Are you fearless too?" They poked his chest with one of their fingers, the hard gem making a slight thud against his skin. "How do you do it? Do you forget your duties? Do you slack off and never attend to anything?" Onyx glanced down at their leg, the rose quartz inclusions clear as day.
"Do tell, for last time I remember slacking off, I lost my leg,"
--
Onyx stared them down, pausing for a moment. Of course they loved Master, but why or how they did? That was a question they'd never asked before...
"I... suppose I care because he's the one who chiseled away my rough edges, quite literally. He gave me eyes and a home, without him I'd still be on Chord Shore, just a bumbling mess," they paused for a moment, "So yes, I do care about Master. He gave me life,"
"I don't know why you care enough to keep going."
Sitting at the table of a bowling joint wasn't exactly where he thought he'd be having a conversation like this, but it was ultimately where he ended up. After being invited out by J and a few other individuals from a chat, Dallas had reluctantly shown up to 'hang out'. About an hour or two into the outing, his depression kicked in full gear and rather than continue to play, he sat down with a drink while everyone else continued. Give or take another forty minutes and he'd been unable to metaphorically tape his mouth shut. J, much to her misfortune, had been the ear to listen to his woes of self pity. He'd complained about Ferrin and Winston to her, then went on about how miserable life was and how there really was no point. As cryptic as ever, she'd spotted some advice of encouragement, but his own grey heart could barely handle hearing it.
"It's like, really, why? Who cares? We're all going to kick the bucket eventually and unable to do the real things we want in life. We're controlled by the people above us and nobody gives a fuck about anyone else. We make relationships with others and they'll all fail one day. I envy your ability to find a reason to keep going, but I don't think I'll ever share the same way of thinking."
Terry stood at the front desk, putting his jacket on as the employee went to get his receipt. It was a fine enough hotel. As long as there weren't bedbugs he was happy. Well, maybe a free breakfast would've been nice.
His eyes kept flickering in the janitor's direction. Pretty young for this job, wasn't he? Besides that, he looked familiar. Terry tried not to stare for too long, not wanting to be a creep, but that nagging in his brain kept making him look again to see if he could recognize him until finally it had hit him. That guy used to work in the medical field. He'd had a friend that became a doctor and showed him pictures of classmates, that was one of them. Terry couldn't help but smirk. Tough times? He could understand.
The receptionist returned with the receipt and Terry began signing, though again those eyes kept trailing. The janitor looked pissed-- pissed about the mess he was cleaning, pissed about the bad news coming from the lobby's TV, pissed about his situation. He couldn't guess why that guy chose this path instead of that field, but first impressions told him that it wasn't from partying too hard or wronging the wrong person. For some reason, he felt like he was staring at his younger self, stressed so much by the sudden change in job and so exhausted and scared of doing the wrong thing that it would result in breakdowns all the time. There were so many times, even today, that Terry would look at other jobs and wonder what it was like, what was it like to have those hours, to not have to deal with so much. Even if it seemed less, there was a freedom to it that he envied. Maybe he'd have been pissed too if he chose a path like the janitor's, but at least he'd be more free, and it didn't mean the original path was locked out completely.
Taking his copy of the receipt, Terry nodded his goodbye to the receptionist and started walking out. Stay strong, kid, he told Dallas in his mind.
