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nicolai phillip mulciber
Posted: Jun 1 2011, 03:17 PM


Poor little rich boy, all the world is okay
The water runs off your skin and down into the drain
You’re reading Fitzgerald, you’re reading Hemmingway
They’re both super smart and drinking in the cafés

user posted image
play by Jeremy Dufour


    “Yes you’re pretty, but do you actually have a brain?” This question would be met with silence, if you asked, followed swiftly by a “are you daft? Of course I am an intellectual, you fool.” Nicolai is a bright candle in the church, but a charming and almost naïve personality make him seem incredibly shallow, which he is, unmistakably so, but at least he is clever. He is always watching situations and noting details that would be important in later situations, but his public persona is to smile wide and laugh easily, anything to bolster his public image and gravitational pull of his charm. Always a strategist, he looks for ways to bolster his ego and inflate his public reception.

    He is not innocent by any means, but being only twenty years of age, he has a lot of living left within him. Yes, it is true that he’s lived for centuries and centuries before this as a deity, but something is different when you start from scratch. Really, it is due to the fact that he has been sheltered pretty much all of his life (and given everything he could ever want, but who would willfully deprive someone like him?); he has never really experienced the ‘rough life’ that others have, heavens. Pampered is all that he has known! That is what comes with having your father is Rigel Mulciber (high ranking banker and pureblooded scoundrel), yet in a way it adds to his je no sais quoi, one could suppose. The bottom line is that he is clueless about a lot of things and the 'wide eyed innocent' routine isn't always an act, at times he genuinely doesn't know any better and/or doesn’t care to know better.

    He plays up the boy next door card quite a bit, being incredibly vain. The boy is unable to walk by a mirror without stopping, even for a split second, to see how he is looking. It is not that he thinks he’s the best looking man in the world (he must take into account personal taste) but appearance is everything. One has to present themselves well in society to succeed and get away with anything; or so he thinks, and through trial and error, he has considered it proven fact. Why, if he saw someone walking down the street that did not have on proper dress, and if they dared enter into his work place in an act to be hired, he would turn them down because they would simply not fit into his business. He bestows judgment with a heavy handed fist, he doesn’t like to talk to people who aren’t pretty, or if they aren’t pretty, they better be dressed well; after all, he will be associated with said person by proximity. Class does not really matter to him, but it is important to at least act your best. Even if you do not have much money, it is no excuse to act trashy.

    Another flaw in his design is his inability to make big decisions. His nerves can’t take it and he ends up stressing out way too much, causing aloofness. Nicolai second guesses his actions too much, especially if someone he cares about is the center of attention. The up side of this is that it never shows on his pretty exterior. While his adrenaline and emotions are bouncing up and down inside of his gut, he can look calm and composed, if not for a slight awkward stiffness around his neck and lips. He doesn’t get angered easily, he likes to throw impatient temper tantrums from time to time, especially when he doesn’t get his way, but generally he doesn’t waste his energy when he could be preening. When his volcano erupts, it goes from zero degrees to seven million in a nanosecond. He yells and screams for a few minutes, then when he has made sure that the blows have been made, he is calmed and ready to deal with the situation rationally. Or as rationally as his leveling head will allow. It is to be noted that he is very impatient, and he likes arguments to be made swiftly so he can move on with his life.

    He is largely nonsensical about most things in his life and his thought process is largely irrational, despite the said processes being worded to end up being rational to his particular cup of tea, they would make no sense to someone other than himself. One thing that is glaringly obvious, however, is how desperately he wants to succeed in his life, to get a clap on his shoulder by his father and to walk into a room and not feel the eyes looking at him roll back into their skulls. Nicolai is largely aware of the satirical presentation he has over his family and over his “stances,” which causes a lot of never-confronted stress in the back of his mind because despite not wanting to be anything other than perfect, he knows that he will only ever aspire to be the cheap China town knockoff of perfection. He’s not taken seriously, he knows and it causes a large amount of heavy sighs and premature wrinkles, which he would usually consider a fate worse than death, but the resounding sadness that coats the thoughts cause him more pain.

    But in the end, he is a very nice guy. Once you get passed his judgmental side, his competitive side, his impatient side, and the side of him that always wants to get his way, you would come to find him to be a genuine guy behind that chic pinstripe coat. His heart is as big as his wardrobe and his collection of photos of himself, and just as varied. Love is the middle name for this lad, and perhaps he has fallen in puppy love one too many times, but he has never intentionally hurt someone (okay, perhaps once or twice, but really he would contend that they deserved that because they hurt him first). If he is romantically connected to a woman, and emotionally connected to them, he finds it difficult to hurt them, and to do so makes him feel the slightest bit of remorse and regret. While he is a player, admittedly, he doesn't like to lead someone on like a cad, and tries to be honest with them in regards to their feelings. He prefers long relationships to short trysts, easily, simply because he likes to get to know his lover without losing them. Of course, this does not mean, in any way shape or form, that he would turn down temptation if it were presented in front of him. Sins of the flesh always have tempted him like Adam to the apple, and he is no one but to oblige his more carnal and less sophisticated desires. Even if it is a short jaunt in love park, rest assured it would be worth their while. As for long term relationships, you can count yourself out if you drop trou on the first day you meet him; no no no, Nicolai Mulciber wants a challenge. He wants to be told no; the fight makes it all worth it. Casanova was in love with love itself, and he has fallen into its intriguing clutches.

    And who said chivalry was dead? While people are counting the ways they can dump someone, Nicolai is kindly there to pick them up after their fall from grace. He’ll occasionally buy gifts for those that intrigue him enough, even if he knows that they won’t stay around. He likes amusing them, because it amuses himself, while then quietly letting those go (he can’t stand vapid people, he’s surrounded with enough of them to not want to be romantically involved with one, not really realizing that it is the pot calling the kettle black, but then again he never said he wasn’t a hypocrite) without much of a fuss. He knows that they are gold diggers, he knows that the majority of women within his life are not interested because of his personality; they see his bank account, they see his glittering smile, they do not see his talents or his real personality. That being said, Nicolai is generous, and donates to a lot of charities, with his large set of funds. Karma goes both ways, and giving so much must mean that he will have more good come back around to him. Right? Right, so he simply views buying gifts for pretty little sycophants as donating to a charity for more people to have class (it is a long time coming) because in the end it will benefit him anyway.

    The playful childlike side of him is often overshadowed by his need to fill up the sinful side of his mind, and to get what he wants, all the time. He loves breaking rules, whether it be shagging someone in the parent's quarters, or spreading the worst gossip one could around about someone that he finds distasteful. All that aside, he knows to have fun, and intends on laughing and enjoying life to its fullest while on his quest for the ultimate challenge, the ultimate thrill. While it is partially because not laughing easily causes wrinkles to form in your skin earlier, the main reason is that he knows to not be so serious, be a kidder, and don’t hate humanity for the fun of it (unless you count those pesky mixed-blood sabotagers who want to ruin his entertainment) while getting the most out of it. Opportunists need a place in society, too.
    Once upon a time, in a far away land known as the St. Mungo’s, there was a woman giving birth with a man standing by her side, cringing slightly as she wailed like a banshee. Her name? Francesca Mulciber nee Rackharrow, and the male? Rigel Mulciber, the successful banker who was more shrewd than the goblins that ran Gringotts (as he would know, he had surpassed their undignified ranks and was happily employed as being happily paid more than should have been legally allowed). Despite the fact that he was cringing at the doctors mentioning the arrival of the child, seeing the bloody thing that was popping out in a much more colorful fashion than he expected after he researched women giving birth, he was quite proud. A boy. Was that not the pureblooded dream? To have a boy?

    Truthfully, Rigel Mulciber, had always been a bit of a poltroon and relied on his brain more than physical aggression. Sure, he works with Septimus Peterson to this day, the allure of success being too large of an aphrodisiac to let silly morality get in the way in an homage of evil that courses through his veins, just with his knowledge; just as his father before him, and his grandfather before that. It is true that their flipped bird to morality had been by killing people and he was more along the lines of not killing people (he had always found himself a tad squeamish, honestly, the sight of blood unnerved him greatly after seeing a dead, crushed bird on the sidewalk when he was three years old), but he was now high ranking in society, sufficiently snooty and more wealthy than his forefathers. Life, all in all, was decent. And now, with a child on the way and a beautiful wife that he had been betrothed to and did not hate for the extent of their marriage (surprise!), he could consider life to be on the track to perfect.

    Merlin, he hoped that she would get it over with soon. He was losing circulation in his hand, for goodness sake. He closed his eyes when more of the red-covered thing came out of her wailing and was about to open his eyes until he heard the nurse gleefully announce, “here comes the afterbirth!” When he opened his eyes he saw his wife crying and holding a child that was nearly bald, save for a few sparse white-blonde hairs and, would it ever stop crying? He looked at Francesca, she smiled and said she loved him; he did not know if she was talking about himself or the child. Rigel leaned over, looked down at his son and smiled. “Welcome into our world, Nicolai.”

    And for those eleven months and three days, Nicolai’s life was flawless. He was the center of attention and thrived upon attention more than he liked mashed carrots and the glitter of his galleon and dragon themed figurines and decorations that rotated above his crib. He would laugh, he would cry, his mother would coddle her in his bosom and life was simple, relaxed and since he only had the mental capacity to be happy and imitate smiles that his mother and the family fed him, he was legitimately gleeful. Yet, little did he know that all of that would change in the form of a screaming monster.

    A screaming, biologically related, blaring monster.

    Oh, yes. Nicolai’s thrown as being the center of attention and the apple of the eyes of the women within a ten-squared block area had been usurped. Even as a baby, he frowned and vowed that his sister was the bane of existence; he then demanded more mashed carrots, mentally, of course, because he had not developed the ability to speak and had flailed his arms around flapping his plump mouth open and closed. His mother then gave him mashed peas, instead, which he hated and it was all of her fault. His revenge of such an injustice would be great, he would be sure!

    The ten years leading up to him fleeing to Hogwarts and being sorted into Ravenclaw were filled with shrill fights between the two, with Nicolai saying that he was not going to play her stupid game because it was stupid and his sister replying that he was stupid for not playing the game because the game wasn’t stupid. Intelligent banter was had, obviously, and once or twice he had chased her around until she cried and thrice or four times he had locked her in the closet in the west wing with no intention of letting her out before or after dinner. Resentment only grew when he realized that she had their parents in the palm of her grubby little hands and they always took her side unless he got to his mother first, in which case he had a small inkling of a chance of not being grounded without being allowed the purple flavored Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. He was so happy to finally go to Hogwarts and nearly ran out into the vehicle with his owl tucked under his arm, biting his thumb toward his sister and blowing a kiss to his crying mother.

    In third year he fell in love with a girl with round cheeks and curly hair, but she promptly found interest in a guy that had a squarer jaw than his early prepubescent self and he felt anger because he did not measure up despite the fact that he was a full two centimeters taller than that son-of-a-dragon! He scowled in the middle of the hallway until he felt a familiar presence behind him, followed by a sigh that belonged to his sister who insisted upon giving him a reason as to why he was not perfect enough for the curly haired cherub and how it was his own doing. Why was his sister so nosy and inconsiderate? Clearly he did not want her advice on dating or anything of that nature because he was older, he was romantic, he knew what he was doing and above all did not want to talk to her; the insult was immense. Luckily she was in another house and he rarely had to deal with her, otherwise he surely would have strangled her or imitated the time when they were children and she begged him to play dolls with him and he took the dolls and threw them out of the window before responding with a resounding “no,” only this time she would take the place of the dolls in her thrilling adventure of sister plus pavement.

    Still, life went on in the following years with Nicolai being impossibly bored in all of his classes, despite taking more than the recommended amount and joining the Quidditch team to hopefully add more spice into his life. Infuriatingly (for the professors, students and himself) the courses were excruciatingly easy for him and he failed to put forth any effort into the classes before pulling out top marks from them; yes, he was one of those. He sat in his classes flicking his tongue against the top of his mouth, sighing dramatically, staring off into space or having eye-sex with the gorgeous brunette across the room because he could not be bothered to learn about a spell he already memorized in the first two minutes of the exercise and the length of her legs were so distracting. That was, of course, unless he was in Arithmancy or Charms because he rather fancied those but, in all seriousness, if he thought that he would have to sit through another lecture on why incense, granola eating hippies and dragon weed denoted the future he would surely roll over and die.

    After he graduated from Hogwarts, he was ready to move onto bigger and better things. He dated casually (or he thought they were casual even though in most cases the girls had thought otherwise), he bought nice suits (everyone needs them), and through connections and waving around a flag of Sovereign-hood, obtained a well-oiled and well-paid position in the Ministry of Magic, Department of International Marketing and Finance. Thrilling? You bet your bottom dollar; he has the license to wear all of the suits he wants, gets to talk and promote the finances of the wizarding world and does not even mind the part of the job where he actually has to do math. It is a match made in heaven. The Sovereign has treated him well and for that his loyalty is temporarily unwavering and life seems to be at a constant upswing.
YOUR NAME shan or shannon :]
EXPERIENCE i am one of the ancients made of stone
CONTACT pm/msn/occasionally aim
there was once a dog and he jumped over a log, but at the end of the road he turned and said that shan was a good rper. and then it rained and snape was there and some cake too, it was really festive.
nicolai phillip mulciber
Posted: Jun 1 2011, 05:52 PM



hope this is good!
Posted: Jun 1 2011, 06:03 PM

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congratulations, your profile has been looked over and approved by an admin. welcome to dorkus malorkus! please remember to sign up for the face claim and post in the who's whobefore you get started!

"'edgjdflkbncvnm . shannon you KNOW nicolai is my favorite male character of yours so i can't even describe how happy this makes me. lovely spectacular sex on legs and also good writing and stuff just MAKE HIM HAPPEN, LOVER. <3"

- Nina
nicolai phillip mulciber
Posted: Feb 29 2012, 07:10 PM


+ + +
[ T W O Y E A R S L A T E R ]

    Nicolai’s life during the infamous Elite reign varied very little from the path in which he had already so readily accepted; where we left off, he had swept the lovely Emily Wellbeloved off her feet, out of that dreary rainy day sweater, into a purple dress and to the nearest Gala, and all was quite peachy. The winter was particularly brutal, of course, a blizzard that dared to shake the very roots of his blonde hair out of the style that it was so meticulously shaped into (it failed, of course, as he had been around the block once or twice when it came to coiffering the ‘do that he had become so famous by), yet life went on – especially when the knowledge of such terrible weather only lead to more cuddling and snogging sessions was realized, it suddenly became more standable.

    It was August 2026 that tragedy struck.

    “What in Merlin’s name do you mean I need to wear spectacles?” For once in Nicolai’s life, he had to face the idea that there was something about him that was anything but perfect. Those blue eyes that he had admired himself in the mirror, whilst trying to figure out from what angles his face looked best at, lest the press take a passing photo of him on the street, coming to the silly conclusion that the answer was every angle, were flawed.

    Really, that was the start of a terrible decline of the quality of his life, where the silver spoon that was so neatly tucked into the side of his mouth, right between the set of white teeth and cheek, started tasted bitter because it was not helping his happiness. As if the addition of glasses weren’t enough!

    September 2026.

    “I just…I....”

    He had been broken up with. He had tried so desperately to understand the point that his significant other was proposing, how it was her fault, how she needed time, how he was so great, when really, he felt rather crummy at the entire exchange. For once, he had not had control in a romantic situation. For once, he was on the receiving end of “well, that really hurt now, didn’t it?” Which, naturally, lead to a rather long and confusing road of self-reflection that was thankfully pushed aside in the Pureblood tried and true method of compartmentalizing and repression.

    Other aspects of his life flourished, as he held onto his job with his strong, thin hands and started climbing the ladder, as his ability to smooth talk and look rather nice at the same time proved to be beneficial in the vapid realm of Public Relations, and he was even regarded as the “more beautiful” of the Mulciber children (not a singular doubt in his own mind, but having the public acknowledge as much quelled the strange, sad feelings that had welled up after the moment that he rather not revisited, ever). That is to say, his life resumed its previous path, because that is what life often does: finds some sort of normality, and honestly, his life was destined to be rather nine-to-five, which was fine with him. Political chaos or not, he was in the perfect position to avoid that tacky thing called “radicalism” while being able to retain his own life because he simply flew under the radar when it came to ugly, stressful things that caused wrinkles.

    It was late summer, or early fall, as a date of this sort is rather hard to directly pinpoint, of 2027 that Emily shuffled back into his life. If that meant that he would bite the bullet, that he would meet her somewhere on the middle-path, which was decidedly less chilly than the higher and not too outdoorsy like the lower, he decided that it was well worth it. Seeing fashion shows with the other uppercrust individuals of society was all well and good, commenting on the latest Ministry trash was rather hilarious, but at the end of the day,

    Really, he liked her sense of normality the most.

    After the Elite fell, he felt rather sorry for the two girls who were left behind, as they were definitely the aforementioned uppercrust individuals who turned heads at scalloped collars and tailored hems with him, but he was just never really into the whole “evil McCause-a-lot-of-death” scene—that, and Alana and Kieran positively terrified him (see: avoid situations that cause wrinkles and/or premature ageing). As a plus, he got to keep his job when the new regime took over. As far as Nicolai is concerned, happiness abound! - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you



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