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alias: kyros
player age: 25
player pronouns: she/her
character age: thirty-two
occupation OR house/set/dorm + year: glorified conman
relationship status: single
small gif #1 (canon):
small gif #2 (face claim):
character fandom: zootopia
app/shipper: 942
thread tracker: 950
canon spirit: nick wilde
patronus: fox
boggart: his own death
time zone: alaska standard
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Joined: 19-July 16
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Jun 28 2017, 09:21 PM
Local Time: Jun 28 2017, 08:40 PM
289 posts (0.8 per day)
( 2.01% of total forum posts )
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Nicholas Wilde


My Content
Jun 6 2017, 10:46 AM
I'll make this all pretty later.

So basically my character to-do list includes:

L (Death Note) using Bobby Raffin as FC
Ed (Full Metal Alchemist) using Jack Otterstedt as FC
May 7 2017, 02:46 AM
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Word had gotten around that he’d been helping out the warden during the time that the warden’s darling dearest had been attacked and arrested. If Nick ever found out who had spilled the beans, he was going to throttle them. Finch had been so pissed that for the first three minutes that Nick was standing in the man’s office, he just stared at the conman with a bright red face, bristle brush mustache looking extra Hitler-esque.
Apparently nobody knew the specifics though, and nobody seemed to have a clue just how big of a part that Nick had played in the whole thing. So what if he was being accused of trying to sabotage the warden’s assistant. That guy was fucking insane anyways.
His punishment, though? Apparently they couldn’t keep such an untrustworthy person with the Ministry – which made Nick question why they’d ever agreed to work with a convicted criminal in the first place but what the fuck ever. His punishment was that the Ministry wasn’t going to continue their agreement that had been made with the MACUSA anymore. No longer would Nick have a place to live, and he wouldn’t be considered a Ministry worker either.
His leash was being shortened, and he was livid.
“So where am I supposed to live if I ain’t gettin’ paid shit?” he asked Finch, having to shove his hands into his hoodie pocket to prevent using some very vulgar gestures towards the stiff.
“Honestly, Wilde, I don’t give a rat’s ass where you live. I’m sure you’ll find a place to stay, although I’ve heard under the bridge is nice this time of year.”
Nick bit the inside of his cheek at that and just shook his head, staring at Finch. “How long I got?” To move what little shit he had.
Finch shrugged as if they were talking about something so much less important than Nick’s shelter. “End of the day.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
Finch glared at him. “Don’t make this any worse, Wilde.” It was like a challenge. Make it worse, he seemed to say. Give me a reason to lock your ass up.
@judith harris
Mar 12 2017, 08:24 PM
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Okay so hi.
I know I haven't been super active lately and it's because I've got a lot of RL shit going on that I cannot handle in a constructive manner. I'm not leaving by any means, but my muses are difficult to get going sometimes.
So to those who have threads with me, thank you so much for being very patient during this little crisis of mine.
This week is spring break for my district so I'm in Anchorage running errands and taking this massive exam that is really important for both my job and my graduate degree (because if I don't get my degree on time, I'll lose my job) so if I'm on the computer lately, it's to study. The exam is on Tuesday, but I'm not back in the village until this weekend at the latest.
I miss y'all!

Feb 13 2017, 02:47 AM
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The grapevine was always an interesting place to hear things; typically just gossip and rumors about who was screwing who and Nick didn’t really pay attention to shit like that. Had this just been something he’d heard on the grapevine, he probably would have shrugged it off anyways. But this hadn’t just been the office workers chit chatting that Nick had overheard as he walked through the halls of the Ministry. Nah, he’d heard this shit from more important people. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
Nick didn’t even bother knocking on the warden’s door, it was cracked open anyways. “What happened?” he said, his words not a question but a solid demand. “People are talkin’ and it ain’t good, warden.”
@jensen ward
Feb 13 2017, 01:52 AM
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It had been about a week and a half since his head had been slammed into a concrete floor and while Nick put on the façade that everything had been fine, Harris was still watching him like a hawk. He… he knew there were other reasons behind the woman wanting to keep a close eye on him, other than that he was her partner whether he liked that title or not, but those reasons were rarely spoken about. That didn’t mean Nick hadn’t acknowledged them, though. He’d just done it in his weird and tactless way of ignoring it. Good job, Nick.
After nearly five days of Nick convincing Harris that he was fine enough to be able to sleep at his own place – without supervision, he’d been allowed to go back to his own place. She was scared he wasn’t gonna wake up or something and it took a charm and an agreement to let her know that he’d woken up for the first two days he’d gotten to finally sleep on his own mattress before he had been able to convince Harris that he didn’t need any of that either.
Now here he was a grand total of ten days after the incident and he was fit as a fiddle. (However out of tune and wonky the fiddle may be was left out of this analogy.) For the first time all week and possibly in his history of ‘working’ for the Ministry, Nick had arrived before Harris had. It was a strange feeling, sitting in her office without her present or at least without knowing for sure that she was somewhere in the building.
Slouched in ‘his’ chair, Nick was leafing through a stack of paperwork that had been piling up since Harris’ priorities had been mainly on making sure he didn’t die in his sleep. Pulling a folded piece of paper out from his coat pocket, Nick unfolded it and smoothed it out as best he could, setting it on top of the stack of papers already in his lap. Picking up one of the newer quills (less flashy, didn’t have to be dipped in ink all the goddamn time), Nick added a bit more information to the application paper, such as his date of birth and country of origin.
Hearing footsteps, he quickly dried the ink and stuck the paper on the bottom of the stack of papers, instead staring at a statement report as Harris walked in. “Woah fifteen minutes late and no Starbucks, Harris is losin’ her touch.”
@judith harris
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