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dishonoredrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, CAROLINE! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE FOOL with the faceclaim of RIZ AHMED. The way in which you expressed two sides of Saif at war -- the good man, who wishes to see things bettered -- and the bad one, who cannot bring himself fully to complete the task -- was perfect. The juxtaposition of his position and his responsibilities in comparison to the legacy he feels he owes (or owed) his father is paramount and you nailed it every step of the way. It really puts emphasis, I think, on the lesson that no matter how deep you’ve dug yourself up, you can always try climbing, and even if Saif fails to do that, I’ll certainly enjoy watching you write it out.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC NAME: CAROLINE PRONOUNS: SHE/HER/HERS AGE: TWENTY-FOUR TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY I’LL BE REAL WITH YOU, I WORK A JOB THAT REQUIRES ME TO BE ON PRETTY MUCH ALL THE TIME. I WORK SIX DAY WEEKS FOR 10 HOURS AND HAVE TO A “NIGHTCHECK” AT LEAST THREE TIMES A WEEK. I GENERALLY TRY MY HARDEST TO GET ON THE DASH AS MUCH AS I CAN, BUT SOMETIMES SHIT HAPPENS. HORSES CANNOT BE TRUSTED.

ANYTHING ELSE? NAH FAM WE GUCCI.

IC SKELETON: THE FOOL NAME: SAIF ANDROS FACECLAIM: RIZ AHMED, JACOB ANDERSON AGE: THIRTY-SIX

DEATH I HAVE LITERALLY NO PROBLEM WITH THE DEATH OF THIS CHARACTER WITH THE RIGHT EMOTIONAL PAY OFF. LET’S GO FUCKING HOGWILD MY DUDES. EXTRAS .PINTEREST | MOCK BLOG . .SAMPLE ONE | SAMPLE TWO .

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NEW BEGINNINGS // NAIVE You are not born with a sword in your hand. You are not born in the ashes and the flames. You are born the only son of a good man. You are born in a world you should never have turned your back on.

You will learn to regret your departure. But long before that you will learn by your father’s side.

There is dirt that rests under your fingernails that never leaves. There are stains in the cracks of your skin that you cannot scrub out. On the palm of your hands are calluses from a hard day's work. You father turned them over once, stared down at your hands. They are good hands, working hands. You smiled at that.

The good work you did, under your father’s careful eye, always showed in your hands. The next time you pick up a hoe it is easier. The weight of your labor feels lighter, the rewards sweeter. When it is something you have done, and done well, it makes you preen. Prideful in a way only young boys can be. For days you work harder, push yourself further. Until it is your father who stops you with a hand and a grim smile. You do not wonder if your father has played you for a fool, not at this young age. Not when you have the memory of your successes so vivid in your mind.

That thought will come much later, when you realize the breadth of your naivete. How it has let you down throughout the years.

One day you will craft a thicker skin, learn a more agile mind. You will no longer be shifted by the whims of those you trust.

One day.

There is a sword that sits by your father’s bed. It is old, but well maintained and it sings stories of war and victory whenever you get close enough to listen to it. Your father sees you watching. The depth of your interest is not lost on him. There is a disappointment in his features the first time he hands it to you, but you miss it. Too focused on the steel in your hand.

The object is foreign to you then. Something of a toy, not the weapon it should be. The weight doesn’t sit right. Your hands don’t find the purchase they should. Behind you, your father schools his features and sets you right.

He shifts your stance, adjusts your grip, shows you to go through the motions. His hands are heavy with the weight of years of training. Years of war. But you are a child, and war is just a word.

Your enthusiasm is catching, a spark of unbridled joy that does not often reach your household. The must be the reason, you will think heavy with nostalgia, why he let you hold the damn thing in the first place.

It’s not that you are unhappy. It is that you do not know there is more to the world than this. You do not even realize the more you could be. Your father does.

There is a sadness, a disappointment in his actions when he hands you a sword and sends you on your way. But you are too naive to see it.

This is the start of your fool’s journey.

IDEALISM // GULLIBLE The city is bright, and loud, and joyful. Drunkards prop themselves up on buildings, whistle at those who walk by. Children, dirty and unwatched, duck behind corners. Men keep their heads down as they march through the crowds. The city smells. It’s dirty, and dark in too many places. But you cannot see that. You are a child yourself, but you feel big in this new world.

There is a tarven near the city gates that you fall into. A woman behind the bar sizes you up in an instant. It’s easy enough, your face is still round from youth. “You don’t belong here,” she tells you but she says it with a smile. There is no threat there. There is nothing to fear. Your father told you to watch your back, a fool trusts too readily and he did not raise you a fool. But she takes you upstairs, and settles you in a room. And you are not a fool. There is good in this city, more than your father ever said. There is death in the city, magic and turmoil. You are not so naive you cannot see it, but it is not all Tyrholm has to offer.

“This goodness is in need of protection,” she tells you. Somehow you know she does not speak of herself. She speaks of those who taught her to be kind, of those who believe in heroes. And she tells you, because she can see behind the glow of your youth. Or perhaps she can see what you are yet to become. Or just maybe, she can see what you will do when you become it.

You pay her monthly for the room. You enlist in the City Guard. You flourish.

Round a campfire in the damp of the woods you sing. You sing loudly, and drunkenly, and happily. The man next to you knocks his shoulder into yours, smacks your cups together. Beer splashes and falls. You laugh.

It feels right to be here. Sitting here amongst these men, under these stars. You feel grateful. This is a family found. You miss your father dearly, but he has given you this gift. This opportunity to find joy, to succeed in a new way. A way you think might be better.

Out here you are protecting the goodness that rests in the heart of the city. There is a pride in your chest that threatens to consume you. You think you wouldn’t mind letting it.

You would be a fool to miss the signs, and you were not raised a fool. It is not a coup, but rather the idea of one. A mess of half thought plans, and poorly communicated thoughts. Stopping it is as easy as reaching out your hand. So stop it you do, because it’s the right thing to do. You are protecting the good, you are protecting the king.

What happens next is a whirlwind. You see the faces of revolters put to death. They are not the steel faced insurgents of your childhood dreams. They are men and women, tired and hungry. Something akin to doubt flickers through your mind.

Your King does not let that feeling fester. He grants you a gift.

The title is not something you expect, but you find the weight of it feels solid on your tongue. You hold it in your mouth until it bursts out into the crisp air. The sound of it feels right. It straightens your spine, brings a smile to your face.

Captain. The sweetest reward yet.

ADVENTURE // RECKLESS

You have been remade, reborn, revolutionized over and over. The face you wear now is almost unrecognizable. Would your father know you now? No, not as you stand in armor with a sigil that disgusts you where you once found joy. These days you hold your head high out of practise.

Your father once said you had good hands. Hands of a man who would do good work. You look at your hands now. There is dirt that rests under your fingernails that never leaves. There are stains in the cracks of your skin that you cannot scrub out. But this is not the dirt of a man doing good work. These hands are stained black with the blood of your own men. You’re no longer smiling.

Perhaps it is time for one final revolution.

Loyalty is a hard word. It tugs at your heart, and your mind. It made you who you are. This loyalty you have to a figurehead on a gilded throne. You are here today because of your king. You’ve succeeded because of your king. That used to be all your ambition stirred for: success. The feel of it, the weight of it on your shoulders.

This life you lead does not make you happy, but you are comfortable. For the days you can shut your eyes and disappear into dreams or ale, you could be fine. So few are happy, you have long since given up on that hope for yourself. The people who surround you are not bad. They are foolish, and rich, and untouchable. They are hypocrites and liars. But they raised you up, let you walk on the backs of your compatriots. Let you paint a picture of who you are that hides the darkness of reality. They are fools, but you are one of them.

Honor is a fickle mistress. You should be more than this. More than what you’ve let yourself become.

Your father doesn’t write anymore, and you understand why. There is nothing to be proud of in his son. There is nothing good, nothing honorable. There is nothing to smile at.

The image of him, his grim disappointment, haunts you. You draft a final letter. It cannot, will not, be sent. There are too many watchful eyes, too many careful ears. It does not matter, you write it all the same.

In it you tell him what you will do. In it you tell him a plan you weren’t even sure of yourself. But written in front of you it comes to life. You stopped a coup once, you write. Who better than you to know how to fix the mistakes of the past?

By the time you are finished you have come to your own grim realization. The weight on your shoulders is still there, no matter the pretty words you have written. It will take actions to clean your hands. You will become a man worthy of your father’s pride. Or you will die trying. plot ideas 001 Saif, for all his posturing in the most recent months, isn’t all that honorable. He wants to be, and is desperately trying to be but it’s a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses have already escaped. He already has the blood of too many on his hands, and he’s let himself follow orders seemingly blindly for the sake of what he thought was his ambition. But with the weight of what he’s done coming to fruition, he’s slowly realizing that this isn’t actually what he wants.

As a result I want him to be held accountable for his actions in the past, and I want to make him prove himself, most notably to Strength, that he finally has his heart in the right place. I don’t think he’ll like it, and I think the tension that it will cause will be fun to play out, but make this man suffer for his shitty actions!!

002 While his relationship with his father is complicated, Saif still holds a lot of love for the man. I think it could be interesting to use that relationship against him, should the loyalists find out about his plans. They’d also have to find the man. I feel like he’s done a very good job of hiding himself.

On top of that, I don’t really have a clear idea who exactly his father was before he became the father Saif knew him as. So that could be an interesting thing to sort of flesh out with others.

003 One of the most interesting dynamics to me, right off the bat, is the relationship between The Fool and The Sun. I think pulling them to the side of the revolters is going to make Saif feel a hell of a lot more legitimate than he currently does. It would feel a bit like a trump card, especially to those who still see him as weak willed and spineless in the face of the King.

But I also think there could be something said about Saif’s stubbornness and recklessness in pursuing The Sun as an ally. He very much is courting Death, and coming back over and over again to do so.

#accepted #accepted: the fool

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masseffecthoe · 6 years ago

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Soul Glitches

Chapter 3

< Chapter 2

Kaidan was still unconscious despite Jun's best efforts to heal him. She was no medic, but his head had been pretty banged up and there was really no way to tell how affected his implants were. She spied Shepard from the corner of her eye and cursed the major under her breath. The last thing the commander needed was to worry about his sorry ass.

"I did all I could, but we have to get him to the Citadel asap. Someone has to check on his amps."

"Right. Joker, get us to the Citadel."

"Alright commander. Meanwhile, you've got Hackett on the line." She left in a hurry, sealing one more glance at the major's still form. Jun turned to him as well, wishing there was something more she could do to help. She missed Dr. Chakwas, the older woman would have been all over the situation in no time. Liara came around the bed, gentle hand placed on Jun's shoulder. The asari had a way about her that was soothing and Jun was grateful for it. Perhaps it was her voice.

"Do you think he's going to make it?"

"He's like one of those cockroaches from Earth, bastard's gonna outlive us all."

"I hope you're right, for the commander's sake." She left soon after, excusing herself to go examine the blueprints. Jun hoped they had been worth it, because while Kaidan was a pain in the ass, he was still part of the crew, part of Shepard's little family of misfits and one of their oldest friend. She'd miss the bastard, though probably not as much as the commander. She noticed James leaning on the wall besides the door as she finally got up to leave.

"So the commander and him." They were so obvious even the marine put two and two together and figured it out. The world was ending, actually, a lot of worlds were being eradicated, so she doubted anyone cared for regs those days.

"Why do you care? Shepard got you all heart eyed, too?" She punched him lightly on the shoulder as they exited the room towards the mess hall. She needed sometime to eat. "He enlisted around the same time we did, they also go way back."

"Doesn't really explain why you hate him so much... you sure you don't have a thing for him, princess?" With the most serious expression she could muster she turned to him with her hand on her chest as if offended, stopping him in his tracks.

"I would rather go on a suicide shuttle ride with you again than ever considering Alenko."

"I'm just that irresistible." Jun shook her head, smile cracking through her poker face. The lieutenant was good company, a change in scenery from the otherwise overly serious people on the crew. She would stay up with Joker in the cockpit, but since he'd been getting along with EDI more and more it was sometimes hard for her to follow their inside jokes.

"Anyway, I don't actually hate him... I hate that after all the years he's known us, fought alongside the commander, he still can't get his head out of his ass and trust, if not us, at lest her. Anderson and Hackett sing her praise with every chance, yet Alenko seems he wants to prove she's a god dammed traitor."

"The Cerberus thing?"

"Yep. She was basically dead, in a coma for two years. Then when she wakes up she asks about him every chance she gets... and he's angry she didn't call him..."

"If they're so close why didn't she?"

"He was on some kind of classified mission, no one told us where he was, just that he was alive and well."

" Guy has issues then. "

" Don't we all? " He raised an eyebrow and smirked, his ego basically bursting at the seems. "Oh please, don't act like you're above this."

"What? Can't help if I'm perfect."

"Aha, right. And I'm a krogan shaman"

"Never knew their shamans were so..."

"Hot? Beautiful? Wise beyond their years?" He leaned forward getting dangerously close, the scar on his lower lip pulling his smirk in an extremely appealing way. The man was right, he was close to irresistible.

"I was going to say squishy."

"Hm, well I guess you're not exactly wrong. But hey, you can't have it all, right?" She shrugged and watched those damn lips widen in a full cocky grin. "I mean, not all of us can be as perfect as you."

They passed a few more friendly banters as they grabbed some food from the mess hall. Not a lot of options since they were without a cook now as well. Jun really hoped they were going to get him back before they headed in the next crazy mission. It would be even sadder if they'd die on an empty stomach. It would have been nice to gather the entire old crew, after all what more important things they'd have to attend to besides the extinction of all they're races. She missed Tali the most. The two had become fast friends working on different parts of the Normandy and exchanging ideas. The quarian was just the sweetest girl ever. And then there was Kasumi; the woman was a blast to hang with and the two enjoined sneaking in on Jacob's training sessions. Jun looked James up and down again admiring the way his muscles flexed as he opened the fringe door for the third time. She was sure Kasumi would agree with her, the lieutenant was a walking work of art.

They arrived at the Citadel in short time, Normandy at full speed. They were already waiting for them at the docking bay and Kaidan was hauled away to the hospital before Jun got to the exit. She was unsure if they should follow Shepard to the hospital, the woman looked like she wanted to be alone for a moment. And besides, she really hated hospitals. Huerta Memorial held memories from the worst period of her short life. But the commander stopped, C-sec's officer Bailey coming into view and telling them the Council was waiting for them. There was conflict in the commander's eyes, but Jun nudges her a little.

"Go see Kaidan. The Council can wait a few minutes." Shepard nodded, the decision already taken. The group quickly dispersed, Liara choosing to attend to the Council and prepare their findings of the blueprint. Before Bailey turned to leave as well, he shot her and James a look.

"What about you two?"

"I'm just a tourist this time." The lieutenant put his hands up, excusing himself from any of the political implications and Jun saw the perfect opportunity to get out as well. She couldn't stand Udina and if the meeting was anything like the last one, she might not resist to throat punch him.

"I'll make sure he doesn't get in trouble." She smiled politely at the officer and he bid them good luck in their mission. When she turned towards James, he was already at one of the tall windows overlooking the Presidium. She approached casually and regarded the view as well, the opulence and serenity of it all.

"Been here before?"

"To the Citadel yeah, but never up here on the Presidium."His hands gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched tight. She understood his anger perfectly, the richest and most "important" beings lived here while in other parts of the universe people were fighting for scraps. But that was not something unique about the Citadel, it happened everywhere. And in some ways it was natural for the people in power to gather in such a place, even if perhaps they did not deserve said power to begin with. Life was unfair like that, she'd gotten used to it long ago. "This place is wrong, so calm while Earth is burning. As if the war isn't going to reach them too soon."

"It's a facade, Vega. If you look closely you can see they're all scared." She turned to watch the people on the hallway they were in, elbows resting behind her on the rail. "See that guy over there on the phone? He was asking about his son when we passed by him. Those asari by the elevator, they're being called back on their planet. Probably preparing for the reapers to hit Thessia... It may still look grand, but it's as much a hell hole like any other if you put it under a microscope. A shiny, skyscraper filled hell hole." She watched the creases in his brow lessen as he took a closer look around them.

"You spent a lot of time here?" James watched her face change completely, lips pressed in a thin line and eyes narrowing and he realized he'd hit some sensitive subject. She was silent for so long he'd thought they'd just dropped the subject.

"Well I kinda live here I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah, I mean I haven't for a while... but I have a little apartment in the Wards. But it's not like I bought it or anything. It belonged to my parents. I didn't even know about it until I was... well..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a long breath of air.

"I spent a while in the hospital after the... military thing. When I got out I was told I had an apartment here. It makes sense I guess, my parents used to travel to the Citadel a lot, but it just never crossed my young mind they actually had a place here, you know. Lucky me." James thought her reluctance to share had something to do with her parents, but now he was even more curious about her being in the hospital. He decided not to push the issue though. They were practically still strangers and she owed him no in depth story of her life.

"Come on."

"Where we going? "

"You need a drink."

"Apollo's Cafe?"

"I was thinking lower." They were going to work on the strangers part and what a better way to get to know a fellow soldier than behind a glass of batarian ale.

Purgatory was packed as usual, the music audible as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. James made his way through the crowd, the little engineer in tow, and secured a spot at the bar for them. There, the mood was more visibly desperate than on the Presidium, people drinking away their fear and sorrow for the fallen. He turned towards Jun now perked on a high stool next to him, her eyes wide and searching.

"What are you drinking?"

"Um, whatever you're having."

"You never explored this far, princess?" He chuckled and ordered his ale and some asari honey mead for her, deciding he didn't want her in an alcohol induced coma. Shepard would kick his ass.

"Hmm, what gave me away?"

"You look like a lost puppy." She cocked her neck and looked curiously at him, lips pursed in a child like manner. If not for the standard alliance uniform she was wearing, she would have looked nothing like a soldier in that moment. He was even more taken aback by her next words.

"I've never seen a puppy."

"How could- Really?"

"Yeah, I saw a few of those big military dogs, but never an actual puppy. Anyway I think I'm more of a cat person. Saw one of them bastards on Earth last month and nearly took it with me."

"But you did your military training on Earth, right?"

"Some of it." She drowned the glass in one swift movement, the subject clearly touchy. "Look, I've been to Earth twice, once for the military when I spent most of my time on base and now after Shepard turned herself in. Did a little exploring this time around, but can't say I've actually seen much." He took a long drag from his own glass, the familiar burn tingling his throat. It was a shame so many humans were so far away from their home planet, Earth was a wonder like none he'd ever seen. "I've always been a little envious of those who lived back there. Out here, there's no place that's really your own, you know?"

"There's no place like it." He hadn't wanted his voice to sound so broken, but he was reminded of his uncle, the warm days spent on the beaches and the giant robots trampling everything there. The cold fingers on his arm brought him out of memory lane, her hand looking so fragile on him.

"We're going to get Earth back." The emotion on her face was almost palpable, she wore her heart on the shelve like none other and he found himself wondering out loud.

"How did someone like you end up on this crazy crew?"

"Someone like me? What's so different about me?" He regarded her for a moment, her unscathed skin, doe like eyes and soft hand still on his arm. What was different about her? Everything, but not in a bad way. She could pull her weight in a fight and was trustworthy enough for Anderson and Shepard to keep her around. She had her fair share of past trauma and was by all means, an Alliance officer.

"Didn't mean it as an insult..."

"What did you mean by it then?"

"Look, I saw you are capable on the battle field and you even saved my ass back on Mars."

"But? Courage Vega, I don't bite. Too hard." She pulled back her hand, but broke into a smile and he relaxed. He thought he might have offended her, yet there she was trying to make him uncomfortable. It was going to take a lot more for her to make him blush.

"But you're so... soft."

"Soft?"

"Yeah, you don't look like... i don't know. You don't have that haunted look in your eyes the others have." Her fingers curled around her long empty glass, thumb slowly dragging on the rim. She was serious for a moment, making James think he overstepped that time. She lost her parents young, enlisted, been injured gravely enough that she didn't want to talk about it and survived Shepard's mission on the Collector's base. She'd seen her fair share of gore and surely had her own demons, probably hidden deep below the pretty surface. Why couldn't he hold his mouth shut some times? But the moment passed and she turned towards him with a wicked little grin and he couldn't help but smile as well.

"Looks can be deceiving, lieutenant. Or you're not looking close enough."

"Oh? You want me closer, cariño?"

"Well the view ain't that bad, though I've certainly seen better." She lifted her glass, pointing at him with it and changing the subject at the same time. "One more, then we go get some noodles. I'm starving!"James chuckled and ordered them two more drinks. He enjoined her presence, liked that he could be his flirty self and voice concerns without having to explain or excuse himself. And for brief moments, time until they return to Earth seemed to pass just a little faster.

Chapter 4 >

#soulglitches #james vega x reader #james vega x oc #james vega #mass effect #mass effect 3

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bespokecurry · 4 years ago

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Juneteenth. I just wanna make my ancestors shine. The work I do is heavy. I don’t call it social justice but it is. My life is in danger every time I teach Black Beauty School, but I can’t focus on that. I refuse to let the harm I have endured for a lifetime continue. I went from being gaslit to no more. Here’s a list of yt folx who contributed to my harm and who I guarantee you are still contributing to the harm of Black and brown bodies. I have a much longer list but these are the superstars. Most of which you all have forgotten about. You have gone back to supporting them, making excuses and validating the harm they continue to do. To the Black folx that sent me into some of these fires. You also were complicit in my harm. Savanna George- Newcomb (Aveda) AVEDA institute Nashville entire team current abs previous directors included, Jordan Welker (Aveda), Nadia Thrush (Aveda), David Hass (Vanderbilt University) First Unitarian Church of Nashville, Anna Haas (annahaascreative.com), The Frist, Michelle Macdougal Jackson, Jenny Jacobs, Matthew Jackson. University of California, Irvine, Most of my grad school cohort. Every yt person in my theater cohort at MTSU. All of the yt folx I went to high school with Blackman and La Vergne High School along with your racist parents. Washington Revels, Greg Lewis, Susan Lewis, Don Hill, TN Repertory Theatre, Deborah Anderson, René D Copeland (TN Rep), Michael Barnett (lighting designer) I stand and give my most vulnerable self in each of these classes. I teach without fear, I do not and will never foster yt fragility. The folx above have been protected, they have never lost quality of life. They have continued to have access all while stepping on me to do so. I don’t have anything deep to say. I should have to. There are no more excuses to be made. Yt folx y’all owe me and then some. Im collecting back pay for my ancestors and myself. $acurryprod Venmo “at” ambercurry, PayPal [email protected]. Pay me. And please get in these comments defending folx or yourself and you can get it too. (at Portland, Oregon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQTaMc7FB2y/?utm_medium=tumblr

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eusebiaz545378-blog · 7 years ago

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