Describe Aniventerie, AKA Jon Shepherd, here. Well, he's just zis guy, you know? References aside, I am indeed "this guy". A guy who enjoys both the creative and technical. A guy who idealizes free expression, rationality, non-conformism, love, and elegance. A guy who thinks deeply, creates incessantly, dreams unboundedly, and lives right on the cusp of figuring out his shit. My theme song. Aniventerie: A word which once meant something but now means nothing. Beliefs: Moderate/Agnostic/Not into sports/Pacifist.
Current RP involvementRPs where my involvement is not yet solidified are marked with "Possibly?"
Tropes that apply to me
DefaceSpaceSpeak your arcane whisperings herein. The faeries are thw first to mark your page with our arcan whispers. - Stolen By Faeries Your page doesn't have enough vandals on it. But I'll fix that. —Sean Murray I I fought the decisions that call and lost my mark has the relevant piece in this I will come reformed. In short, for the murders of those I court, I bless the hour that holds your fall, I will kill you all!!—Vanthebaron aka The Crowing You ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight? —Sean Murray I
FictionSo, over at this thread, I've offered my services as a shipping fanfic author specializing in webcomics. I am not normally one to write fanfiction, so this experiment should prove interesting. Due to problems I've been having with hosting, I'm going to put them here for now.
The Beastess and The Professor (Nepeta < 3 Terezi)
>Be the Beastess Your name is NEPETA LEIJON, and once again the credits are rolling. You have just finished watching another episode of a shitty shoujo series youíve been following on your tablet PC (how you managed to convince Sollux to get you access to the human website "Hulu" is beyond you both). Itís a trashy and wonderful thing; the voice acting is terrible, the production is mediocre, and the plotlines border on histrionic. But you watch it regardless in hopes that you will actually learn something. In your personal world there arenít many mysteries. The fauna that fill your stomach every night, the night sky which gives you just enough light to hunt by, the strange game you and your friends have begun playing; these are all things you donít totally understand but donít regard as mysterious. The only truly, unrepentingly mysterious thing in your microcosmic life is another troll. They donít make sense. They operate on rules you donít, follow dogmas you just donít have the enlightenment to grasp. They kill each other over nothing, you kill so you wonít starve to death in your own cave. They run themselves ragged to be the best, you are simply glad to be living. Your life is simple and harmonious, theirís are complicated and discordant. There are joys in this life of yours; thereís the thrill of the hunt and staying up late roleplaying and warm nights snuggling with your lusus. Itís all so intuitive and everything falls into place without convoluted schemes to make it all right. But thereís still one thing missing. A plotline not tied up. Lately youíve been feeling like thereís another element to this story, one you only now sense as gone. Your friends seem to get it, even if not all of them have or appreciate it. As the hollowness grow, time runs out. Itís near the finale, and the arc still hasnít wrapped up. Someday the series will end. And then youíll just click off the screen. Thereís no point in sitting around for the end theme. >Be the professor Your name is TEREZI PYROPE, and you know everything. Well, not everything. Everything worth knowing, really, and what you donít know you can find out. You have your ways. Maybe itís just the Seer of Mind nonsense giving you hubris, but you canít help but feel on top of this whole ordeal. You have irons in the fire and the might to put them out when theyíre ready. You are the marionette master artfully tugging the proper strings when it so suits your objectives. Your life is a game, and you doing a damn fine job of winning. You know all the strategies, all the endgames and opening plays, all of the little rules and addendums that can be exploited. But most of all, you know your fellow player. Theyíre multi-layered creatures, doing one thing but wanting another, saying this but meaning that. You have the clarity of thought and systemic knowledge of their inner rules necessary to see through these layers and bend them to your whims, almost like a game in and of themselves. But the game is near boiling point, and you canít bring yourself to care. They say itĎs lonely at the top, but no-one told you it would be boring. Itís almost like thereís a mechanic or playing piece missing, but you know for sure there isnít. Whatís really happened, you think, is that you know it all and wished there would be more. Wished there would be more to your existence than scheming and plotting, than playing stupid mind-games against unworthy opponents. Someday the game will end. And then youíll simply pack up the board. Thereís no need for a recap. ==> Your name is NEPETA LEIJON, and nearly everything is lost. You and your friends had finally won the game. Created a universe, made it through the gates, and beat the king. But just as you were all about to claim the prize, everything fell apart. You are walking to your makeshift respiteblock, situated on an abandoned lab on a lifeless rock in The Veil. The arc is still unfinished, the hollowness consuming, and the show has finally been cancelled. You donít even have your simple joys to fall back on. As you make your way down the corridor, you realize you canít do it. You fall to a seated position, slide to the wall, and let your face drop itís usual cheer. A single tear rolls down your cheek. Where are your simple joys now? Theyíre a memory. Old imagery painted on the walls of a cave, only to be found by and feel mysterious to future generations. Thereís still something though. Through the tears, you make this small hope known. ==> Your name is TEREZI PYROPE, and someone is crying just outside your respiteblock. You peek your head just out of the door, enough to see whatís going on. Oh. Itís that one. God, you hope that oneĎs okay. Itís then that she says something, presumably to herself. Even though itís just a little wonderment, itís a question you that completely catches you off-guard. Through all this, through all the death and pain and destruction, this girl is wondering aloud when sheíll next get a chance to hunt something. Suddenly, it hits you. On impulse, you take off your shades and lick them. Sweet, cherry red, just as theyíve always been. Even though theyíve consistently tastes this way, it somehow comes as news to you. In your quest to know it all, to understand everything, youíve completely forgotten what itís like to taste something and enjoy it. You make your way into the corridor. Slowly, as not to startle her. She looks at you with confusion as you sit beside her and place your hand on hers. ďItís gonna be fine, Nepeta. Iím hungry too. When this blows over, weíll go get something to eat, okay?Ē ==> Your name is NEPETA LEIJON, and you think thatís a very good idea.