#i think i might have made ghoul a bit ooc
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aayakashii · 6 months ago
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I'm going through the Sinostra chapter right now and I can't stop making theories omg there might be spoilers below so be careful, although I'm just enumerating my questions tbh lol
According to one of Taiga's home screen dialogs, there might be some sort of time loop happening which he's KINDA aware of? Or maybe just aware when triggered somehow.
He said "long time no see! You decide to ditch this future too? Sorry I'm not dead yet" which is INCREDIBLY ooc as to how he behaves during the story which leads me to
His extreme memory loss, which apparently lasts less than 24 hours. Why is that? Did he go through so many time loops that it started affecting his memory? There was one small moment in which he remembered Ritsu because he saw the MC face though...
The Clash. What the fuck was it
What's Taiga relationship to Haru? Haru sounds eerily nonchalant regarding Taiga even though the man keeps on threatening Peekaboo. And aftewards, Rui briefly mentions that Taiga has a "destroying what others hold dear" schtick, which leads me to believe that Taiga is seeking revenge for losing something important maybe???? Is the fanfic brainrot too big rn
WHY DOES HE HATE LIKE DOVES??????? I dont wanna go full romantic mode, but is he just resentful of seeing a bird that is the physical representation of someone else's feelings or something......
The spy. Honestly no idea. There's some theories floating around that Haku is the spy, but I would rather see him during the Hotarubi episode before jumping to conclusions, but it's understandable how people might think that I guess...? He IS very nice and helpful and randomly finding the MC fleeing by train was way too much of a coincidence... he does seem to always tie the MC to Darkwick somehow, firstly by KIDNAPPING her and then by talking her into staying. If the MC is the trigger to a bigger event, then one could see that as suspicious. But I would like a bit more evidence first lol
Back to Taiga, why is he. Like why
Okay no but seriously. If we take the timeloop thing seriously + Haku being a spy, here's the theory:
Taiga knows the MC is the trigger for an awful event and tried killing them back in the Prologue in order to cut the problem on its roots. Haku, if we consider him as the spy, WANTS the event to happen (considering he could also be aware of the loop), which is why he saved us and took us to Darkwick, therefore letting it all play out once again.
If Haku isn't the spy, then we would have to chalk it up as Taiga knowing and trying to kill us, but destiny (???) being a bitch, therefore putting Haku there as a pawn to make things play out again
Maybe the spy can control other ghouls? Who know tbh
Finally, what is going on during the first scene we see in the game? Darkwick on fire and the first character we choose jumping off of the building? I wonder what would happen if we choose Taiga as our first card....... maybe I should create a sub acc
Anyway if anyone has more questions/theories PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY IM OBSESSED WITH THIS GAME I NEED TO THINK ABT IT
There is also a good theory on reddit made by u/imonlybr16 that states this:
"Before the prologue, when you open the game for the first time, you're greeted with the opening scene involving MC running through the halls of a ruined Darkwick. The question is asked "When the world is collapsing around you, whose hand will you take?"
There you're taken to your character choice screen. The guy you choose is later shown on the railing of a balcony, about to jump off.
Now I think I have a very far fetched and vague idea as to what is going on.
In chapter 2, we learn that the person that Alan killed was Dante or at least he thought he did. But we meet Dante and he's very much alive.
This comes theory number one.
***You can't actually die on campus.***
Note the use of actually here. You can 100% still die, you just end up coming back to life.
If Rui is your home screen he talks about accidentally killing someone else in his dorm and being annoyed with having to lift them back to Obscuary. This struck me as a particularly odd dialogue because Rui's curse causes people to die.
Unless, you can't die on campus.
This would explain Dante pretty much instantly. Yes Alan killed him but yes he's alive.
The campus itself is an anomaly, stopping people from dying doesn't sound too far fetched. I expect this to be revealed with the other two members of Obscuary, as that dorm seems to have a connection to death. One of the things that always pops up is that ghouls aren't immortal, no matter how quickly they heal.
Also explains how Calamari didn't die in chapter 3. Ren ran from the dorm > the caves > the jetty and Calamari was already pretty dehydrated in the beginning.
But OP you might say, aren't all the guys talking like they believe they're going to die.
Luckily, that brings us to vauge and far fetched theory number two.
***The campus is on fire due to a rebellion***
In the very last chapter of the prologue we get to see Kaito's wickhive. There we see three pretty interesting threads.
. There's gonna be an uprising soon
. One of you is a demon
. There's a guy who could see the future
Kaito is surprised at something he sees in this scene but we don't learn what it is. This chapter's 'preview' is one of the scenes we see in the very beginning. Blood and a Lily.
I believe that the first thread is foreshadowing and will . After you meet your chosen guy standing on the railing you get a line of dialogue (or not if you picked Towa) that changes depending on who you picked. Some imply that what they're doing is going to save you(Jiro, Zenji and Sho), some apologize stating that they could protect what they cared about until the very end (Luca,Kaito,Haru and Yuri) but three characters caught my attention
Leo: Life sucks and then you die,right? I just want to make the assholes responsible regret it.
Ren: This is exactly why I didn't to do this! I knew this was how it was going to end.
Subaru: This is all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me, but this is the least I can do. Please take this as my final act of good faith.
Especially Subaru's and Ren's, that seemingly imply either the MC's (Ren's) or their (Subaru) involvement in the current situation. Now what does this has to do with a potential uprising?
One of the things we learn from the very beginning is the inter-politics of the houses and by extension the ghouls. Especially after the fallout of the clash. Things are pretty tense and an uprising or rebellion seems to be the most likely thing.
As to what happened and why? I have no clue. Though one thing to note is that according to the prophecy, as long as the ghouls are in Darkwick, they prevent a disaster from coming. If Darkwick is destroyed however, the prophecy can't be fulfilled, or can it?"
This is such a good theory too, I really think u/imonlybr16 has probably gotten a lot of things right.
Although it's weird that death is such a big threat to us specifically, but maybe the Academy can't prevent death by curses, much like the Mesmer Matches dont work on someone who's cursed. Hhmm...
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mirage-aera · 10 months ago
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I have a birthday related request since it's my birthday tomorrow: basically Copia has been crushing on the reader (fem) for a while now and he decides to surprise her with flowers and a confession on her birthday. Maybe it follows with some fluff/cuddles :)?
Heyyy happy late birthday lovely!! I’m sorry that I'm late, I’ve been busy but hope you had a great day nonetheless. Here’s my (late) present for you!
•°. *࿐ Birthday girl
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Copia x fem!reader
Synopsis: Copia decides instead of a practical gift. A confession longer overdue and some flowers would be the perfect birthday gift for you.
Word count: 1.400
Masterlist
Warning: might be a bit ooc!
Today is your special day, it’s the day you were brought into the world. What better way than to celebrate it with Copia and the ghouls? The ghouls have been bouncing off of the walls the night before. They’re excited to make your special day the best you’ve ever experienced. They’ve decided to cover the walls and ceiling with garlands, flags, confetti, and balloons. You name it, they have it. The ghoulettes have been working on baking sweets for the small party they’re throwing for you.
“Damn it, Swiss! Stop throwing those garlands at me! I can’t hang them up.” Sodo grumbles, annoyed with Swiss’ antics. Swiss snickers as he stops throwing stuff at the fire ghoul. Rain is busy scattering confetti around while the two quintessence ghouls are bickering about the placement of the flags and letting balloons fly around the room. The ghoulettes are baking the goods, very slowly. They’re throwing flour and eggs at each other and across the kitchen. They are super enthusiastic, that’s for sure.
Copia could only look on with both horror and amusement at the antics of his ghouls and ghoulettes. He would do the decorating himself, but the ghouls were very adamant about doing it themselves. While he insisted that the sisters of sin do the baking, but the ghoulettes were very confident that they could get the job done. As he watches the chaos unfold, he comes to realize he is sorely mistaken. Sure, he loves his ghouls and ghoulettes, but they can be a pain in the ass sometimes.
As he sees that no real progress is being made he decides that stepping in might be the better decision. “Alright! Let’s get serious now, everything needs to be done and perfected tonight. Step it up a notch, let’s go!” The ghouls stare at him and cock their heads before actually hanging up the decorations. The ghoulettes clean up the mess they have made and continue baking. After a couple of hours, everything is perfect to Copia’s standards. He smiles at the surprise he set up for you. He really hopes that you’ll like it, but considering what his ghouls have told him it seems like the feelings are mutual. Everything is set up, he prepared a little confession speech for you. All that is left is to wait for your birthday and snip some flowers from the garden.
He sends all of his ghouls to bed, to make sure they don’t mess with the decorations. After he gives everything one more look, adjusting a few things. He heads to bed himself after he checks on his rats, nerves wracking for what’s coming tomorrow.
Morning comes and the ghouls and ghoulettes are already up, excited to party. Copia heads to the garden to snip a few of your favorite flowers to make a giant bouquet for you. After all, you only deserve the best. He arrays all of the different flowers until he’s satisfied with all of the different colors meshing with each other. He sees Mountain walking into the garden. Copia shows the bouquet to him, “hey Mountain!” Mountain turns to him and waves. Copia continues, “do you think she’ll like this bouquet?” He asks. Mountain looks at it, inspecting it, and nods, “it looks fine. I’m sure she’ll like it.” He says smiling. This boosts Copia’s confidence. “Great! Is she up yet?” He asks him. Mountain shrugs, “I haven’t seen her yet. She’s usually up around this time. You can come by her room.” Copia nods before heading back inside. He places the flowers in the kitchen as he heads to the hallways he sees you standing in the middle of the common room, staring at the decorations. He smiles at the awestruck expression you are donning. “Happy birthday!” He says with enthusiasm. You turn to him startled, not expecting him to be there. He walks up to you, “do you like it?” He asks, motioning to the decorations. You smile brightly at him, “like it? I love it!” You chuckle lightly, “I did not expect to wake up to this, I assume you and the ghouls did this?” He nods chuckling, “yeah. They were very excited to do this for you.”
He remembers the flowers waiting on the kitchen counter waiting for you. He holds a finger up, “ah! Before I forget I have another surprise for you. Give me one moment.” He quickly makes his way to the kitchen and grabs the bouquet. He touches it up, holds it behind his back, and walks back to you. You stare at him curiously, noticing he has his hands behind his back. He stops in front of you and holds the flowers in front of you. He flushes lightly, feeling nervous for your reaction. “I hope you like them. You only deserve the best.” You take the bouquet from him and look at the various flowers he picked. You smile at him, “it’s beautiful Copia. I’ll cherish these for how long they last.” He smiles at your words.”You’re welcome.” He was about to tell you of his feelings for you, but of course, the other ghouls and ghoulettes come stumbling in. “Happy birthday sister (Y/n)!!” They shout in unison. Copia mentally facepalms. His goddamn ghouls. You give him an apologetic look. He shakes his before letting out a small chuckle, “go spend some time with them. My piece can wait.” He says, while he’s actually thinking ‘no it can’t’ but the ghouls have been very excited to party with you.
As the morning changes into the evening with a few drinks are passed around. The sweets have been devoured. Gifts are exchanged and a few ghouls are already drunk, some are a bit tipsy. You, on the other hand, are still sober. You aren’t as big on drinking as the other ghouls. Copia also hasn’t gotten drunk. He prefers to watch over his ghouls and make sure they don’t get into trouble. As the moon rises higher in the sky, one by one the ghouls retreat to their respective rooms. A couple of minutes later, it’s only you and Copia left. He speaks up, “I have one last surprise for you, before your birthday ends.” He says nervously. You let out a small giggle, “another one? You’re spoiling me at this point.” Copia laughs and waves it off, “it’s your birthday. You deserve to be spoiled.” He says. Suddenly he can’t remember what he was supposed to tell you. ‘Ah fuck it. Let’s wing it.’ He thinks to himself. He looks you in the eyes and takes a deep breath, “for a while now, I’ve liked you more than a friend. You would make me the happiest man if I’m allowed to call you mine. If the feelings are mutual of course. Would you like to follow my journey as Papa together?” He looks at you with a hopeful look. You stare at him with wide eyes before regathering your bearings. “I would love to Copia.” You say softly. He breaks out into a wide grin pulling you into a tight hug. He’s so happy he could let out tears of joy. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” You chuckle before yawning. It’s getting late after all. He notices as well, “let’s get you to bed.” He carries you to your room and sets you down on your bed. He tucks you and makes his way to leave the room before you wrap your hand around his wrist. “Copia. Stay, please.” You look at him with tired eyes. He smiles softly, “anything for you.”
He climbs into bed next to you and wraps his arms around you. You curl into his chest as he holds you tighter. He makes patterns on your back with his hands as you slowly doze off with a content smile on your face. He looks down to look at you, smiling when he sees your expression. “Good night. Sleep well my little birdie. I’ll see you in the morning.” He says softly to not wake you up. He drifts off to sleep as his hands cease to make patterns. What he doesn’t realize is that you were still awake when he said that. A wider smile creeps up onto your face. Soon you follow his example, exhaustion taking over your form. A new couple sleeps under the moon as the new day rises.
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susanoosama01 · 4 years ago
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Midamoul
Hi anon! Brutally honestly, I don't see Midam in a poly relationship. (Not that poly relationships are bad and certainly no disrespect to shippers of Midamoul ofc!)
1) Michael doesn't even understand his own feelings very well yet. I don't think he can really understand what Adam feels when Ghoul is added in. I feel like he would think a younger partner that somehow goes doing stupid fun stuff with Adam and understands why Adam loves greasy food that's killing him would make Michael insecure. Like ofc Ghoul ate Adam alive. But Adam is over it. Ghoul is even going without eating humans for Adam. They always laugh together. Michael doesn't understand their references sometimes. He doesn't know how lots of alcohol and a huge crowd squeezed in with deafening music is considered fun. Even when he was young, he had 3 brothers to raise so he was never allowed to be juvenile. Sooo, he is old! He is boring! Adam loves him but not like he loves Ghoul! Adam prefers the more exciting activities with Ghoul than the domestic ones, right? Then it must mean thst Ghoul is better! I don't really see Michael competing. Like he would try but quickly give up. Adam is happy with Ghoul. Someone as great as Adam is allowed and deserving of a partner that makes him so happy. Since Michael can't do the same, he should wait in his corner. It has always been what he did. He loved his father more than anyone else but that glorious being wanted a son and found it in Lucifer. So Michael had to make do with being his soldier instead and trying to earn bits and pieces of praises and affection. This is just how relationships go right??? To summarise, Michael would be confused and feeling inferior. Servitude is already how he shows love. What if he thinks he wasn't enough so Adam wanted another partner? Like God wanted another son, then another, then another and then millions of little angels and even billions of humans in the end because Michael wasn't enough? I am not sure Adam could make him stop thinking this way no matter what he does after noticing that Michael is starting to draw himself back and act almost as if afraid of disturbing him and Ghoul.
2) Ghoul helped kill Kate. Even though Adam forgives him, this fact will always hurt. It will be a barrier between them no matter how close they are. And they aren't as close as Michael and Adam. Well, Adam might have a physically explainable love for Ghoul. The butterflies and fast beating heart and laughter and kisses and all but his love for Michael... That's different. Ok, this is wuthering heights but "he is more myself than I am" and "I would want to go back to hell because I wouldn't be happy without him in Heaven" amd "whatever souls are made of, ours is the same" stuff is true for them. That love is spiritual, out of this world, incomprehensible mostly but Adam knows he belongs with Michael. They had a millennium just the two of them forming a bond between their beings and it's just something so beautiful that it would be another obstacle between Adam and Ghoul. Because Ghoul would know that Adam doesn't look at him how he looks at Michael. He would feel like an addendum. And Adam would feel bad himself seeing Michael fade back into who he was before the Cage, before their love aka back when he was a spare piece in the box and having to feed on left over crumbs of God's affection in the shadow of Lucifer even after his brother fell.
3) I think the moment Ghoul notices what's going on with Michael— feeling as if he needs to live in the dark, out of sight because he isn't worthy of more than what is thrown his way there, he would remember the days living in caves and eating rotten corpses to survive, feeling worth less than the dirt under the humans' shoes despite it not being the same thing. The moment he realizes Adam doesn't feel really happy with what is happening between Michael and him, he would know he can't do it to them. He loves Adam and even if he never really showed it, he cares for Michael as well. He remembers how they were when he first saw them, just married, having spent so much time wrapped in each others soul-grace, protecting and cherishing each other. The world were theirs because they were each other's and they didn't need or want more. Ghoul knows Adam loves him and even though he never showed it, Michael wants him to be safe and sound as well. But three of them can't have this thing go on for much longer. Michael will go back to being a tool for someone else's enjoyment and Adam will forever despise himself for not managing to love Michael enough and show it to him enough. Ghoul won't be able to beat Adam's guilt and make him smile. Neither will he be able to explain Michael that he doesn’t want to replace him and that he knows and admires the place Michael holds in Adam's heart no matter how he feels some jealousy now and then. So the way to solve it all is to leave. It's not easy nor fair but staying is going to be even harder and more unfair. Some love stories just don't end with happily ever after. In the end, Adam and Michael both helped him get to grow and heal and move on and they showed him that life is still worth living without petty revenge or blood soiling it.
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inknose · 5 years ago
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mdzs read diary part IV, the end
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It’s inspiring how much self care wwx is gonna finally get now that his husband will go along with whatever he does, so he’s gotta look out for lwj’s well being if not his own. that is emphatically the STUFF
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dragging my hands down I face as I read this, after all these chapters of getting up close and personal with ghouls bleeding from every orifice, slaying ancient beasts, rebelling against the entire cultivation world, the two of them are absolutely paralyzed by middle school crush sleepover math
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chicken
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he actually drew kissy doodles .... he....
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IDK I THINK I JUST DOCUMENTED THIS PART CUZ I WAS STILL SCREAMING you cant expect me to have very useful things to say at this point
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this is torture you are both so mushy you are so GONE
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This part really stood out to me, it’s an attitude I feel like wwx implies with his inner narration a few times but most clearly says here: he’s not one for allowing himself to exaggerate how bad his circumstances are/could be even a little bit - he’s already lived through some extreme low points and found a way to keep going, so he never makes sweeping statements about what he couldn’t live without (Inner JingYi: you’re supposed to say you’d be lost without him here!!!) Instead he seems to accept as a given that being alive doesn’t guarantee him any pleasantness or joy at all, and as a result his feelings toward being in TRUE LOVE are surprisingly pragmatic, but also colored with such gratitude. There are a lot of things in the novel that struck me, like this, as being just a little to the left of familiar tropes/sentiments, and were more touching for it. Whether it be the influence of culture difference as opposed to what I’m used to reading in most western romance stories, or MXTX’s unique outlook, or a combination of both, it was really refreshing and made me pause over it. Not “I can’t imagine living without you” but “I could be living without you, but instead I get to be with you and I think that’s the best thing that could happen.”
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ADJFDKFJ THE UST BEING SO STRONG THAT EVEN THE VILLAIN COMMENTS ON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF EXECUTING HIS EVIL PLANS IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF. hes like god damn! here I thought I had problems
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it was at this moment that I realized we were doing this Now... I’m still recovering. What a scene. I am so glad I saw the most incredible fanart soon afterwards, bc the fact that someone has already drawn a perfect comic of this part means I don’t have to
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I love you so much, you are so annoying, you are perfect... I like how he’s been experiencing openly requited love for all of ten minutes but he’s already figured out how to weaponize it to piss people off
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doing!!! his!!! job!!!!!
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ahh... it’s a really good story. JGY is a great character. One of the most interesting differences for me between drama watching vs. novel reading experience is that without an actor to bat his vulnerable doe eyes at you and smile faintly with his cute dimples, the book does not go much out of its way to try to lull the reader into a false sense of security around him or *endear* him to you the way the show does. But just by seeing events through wei wuxian’s POV, its still enough to evoke pity or understanding towards him. The overall impression is a bit more detached though, there’s less emphasis on the spectacle of how he could manipulate everyone closest to him and more of a general feeling of resigned tragedy that everyones the worst on this bitch of an earth.
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I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU FOR EVEN ONE MORE SECOND!!!!
I clearly paused to take note of less and less parts at the end & the extras due to: a) too excited to reach the end b) too spicy to photograph and c) too sleepy cuz I kept reading in the middle of the night. but I absolutely took the time for Bro We Are Teens appreciation corner:
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I’d absolutely read 40 more extra chapters of their monster-of-the-week field trip antics.
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god... poor Jin Ling now basically has to deal with divorced parents that talk shit about each other to him whenever he is saying with one of them. except they are both his uncles. just a disasterhood of all uncles from start to finish. AUUUGH wei wuxian and jiang cheng have fucked me up completely, I dream of them reconciling but I also REFUSE to believe it would ever be easy. let me know if theres a fanfic that absolutely tortures you for decades before they hug
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HAHAHA oh no this man ain’t making it to immortality thats for damn sure. HE’S JUST GONNA TRY AS HARD AS HE CAN HIS WHOLE LIFE NOT TO LOOK AT HIM BUT THEYRE *MARRIED* SDLKFJSF ohhhh it’s too funny, like... the mundane domestic family drama IN the fantastical swords and sorcery setting is what really ratchets up these things from amusing to fucking hilarious I think
aaaa the end... final random thoughts? No not final, I would like to please keep discussing at length and exhaustively, all the time please - CQL has gotta be one of the best TV adaptations I’ve seen. ANY adaptation of anything would be lucky to be so good!! reading the novel has just made me appreciate it even more.
- I don’t think I can do justice to what I find most fascinating about comparing the two versions briefly, to do that I need to get drunk and ramble at my friends for hours but... the condensed version is something like this. Really all the significant differences between the two versions (besides the ones which can be attributed to censorship and therefore aren’t worth discussing) are a side effect of the structure of how the story is told - there’s barely anything changed arbitrarily. Aside from having a cold opening, the drama sticks to a very linear version of the story, and I think for a TV show or film, that’s probably the best way to do it. We see everything, we get shocked and tricked and betrayed and surprised along with the characters, we feel the biggest impact at the climactic scenes having experienced all the build-up. The novel on the other hand is not only much more non-linear in WHEN we learn bits and pieces of information, but that information is also obfuscated under wei wuxian’s multiple layers of Unreliable Narratoritis, which are as follows: 1) difficulty remembering things because of personality/avoiding painful memories/actual memory loss, 2) No Homo Goggles still on, and 3) a wry sense of humor that makes the reader unsure of how much they can trust his attitude toward things, especially near the beginning. The experience of reading is a puzzle the reader has to mentally piece together through all of the above listed camouflage, and the puzzle itself is a three-sided mystery: One - How Bad of a guy was Wei WuXian really, and how exactly did all the bad stuff in his life go down; Two - wangxian epic pride & prejudice gambits; Three - political murder mystery. (I love stories like this btw... though I fully admit I’m glad I watched first this time bc it might have taken me a long time to tackle otherwise.) Because of this, where the drama wants to pull you in and submerge you in all the most potent emotional parts, the novel in direct contrast deliberately side-steps around these things and asks that you hurt yourself by filling in the blanks. In fact the more intense emotions and painful memories involved, whether it be his relationship with jiang yanli, his DEATH, the darkest days of war times etc, the more the novel evasively withholds details. I actually really like both styles of storytelling but each one is obviously way better suited to its medium. ANYWAY.... THATS BASICALLY WHERE MY BRAINS AT WHILE IM READING GAY SWORD WIZARD BOOKS
- The extras are so saturated with domestic married bliss that it’s a good thing I stopped taking pictures because I’d just take a picture of every page. this is too much for me to take... I did jump the gun a few times and read a few fanfics while I was still mid-read of the book (I tried to hold out but alas I am mortal) and at one point after finishing I was like “wow what fic was it in where lwj says something cute and wwx kisses him in public but they’re in the corner of the restaurant so no one really sees... OH NO WAIT that was actually in there.” and ... and that’s the LEAST OF IT... *stares into the distance* theyre married wow
- I ofc couldn’t help but see a few vague blogs beforehand so honestly I was braced for something like, wildly ooc for the sake of porn to happen in the extras... I definitely appreciate how the incense burner porn interludes could be uhhh a lot for many people and not my personal cup of tea in terms of smut however [here follows the words of a poisonous frog who has dwelt her whole life in the rainforests of BL] the concept is also surprisingly SWEET SDFLKJF like wwx sees lan wangji’s darkest mixed-up violent teenage fantasies and he’s just like aww babe you had a crush on me!! just... good for them
- I swear I’m not gonna rehash every cute married thing they do but wei wuxian grading papers in the tub........................rEALLY GOT ME
- I want to Draw - ok thats enough if I keep going I’ll just write “wei wuxian grading papers in the tub” seven more times probably
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dishonoredrpg · 4 years ago
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Congratulations, JEM! You’ve been accepted for the role of STRENGTH with the faceclaim of MICHIEL HUISMAN. I think you best stated it yourself -- Roland is kind and cruel in equal measure, willing to break the tenets of his own moral code for a little bit of kingdom. I found myself drawn to him in a way I wasn’t expecting, which is exactly what I wanted for a character like Strength; in spite of his constant contradictions and struggles with the work he’s doing and his willingness to acknowledge he might have been led astray by Septimus, he’s still real. Still fathomable on the larger scale. He has the potential to be a real power player with the Sons of Argos in his hands, and I’m more than excited to see how things play out with the plots you’ve provided and concepts you’ve so kindly shown here!
Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.
OOC
NAME: Jem.
PRONOUNS: She/her.
AGE: 26.
TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST. I’d say my activity level is about a 6/10! My work schedule is a little wonky right now, but I always try to carve out some time for writing, and I’m usually able to crank out replies consistently throughout the week.
ANYTHING ELSE? Not a thing!
IN CHARACTER
SKELETON: Strength.
NAME: Roland Alexander Bishop.
FACECLAIM: Michiel Huisman (1st preference) or Can Yaman (2nd preference).
AGE: 33.
DETAILS: I fell in love with about 10 different skeletons before it dawned on me that Strength is, in fact, my one an only!!!!!! I’m so completely fascinated with the dichotomy of Roland’s character. He’s somehow kind and cruel in equal measure, a man of conscience willing to break his moral code for the right price. With no parents to speak of, he raised himself by virtue of naught but teeth-bared survival, and he’s carried that instinct for perseverance with him well into his adulthood in a way that I think has perhaps blurred the lines of what he believes to be right and wrong, or at least blurred his willingness to cross those lines. I wouldn’t say he’s altogether without integrity, because his stomach yet turns when buries his dagger hilt-deep in the belly of the King’s enemies, but his moral compass certainly isn’t working the way it used to these days. He’s whip-smart, too (he must be to have assembled a legion of Tyrholm’s nastiest, most ruthless bastards and foster loyalty and obedience among them). By that same token, though, he’s prone to foolishness in the face of profit. A boy raised by the street urchins of Tyrholm knows better than to trust kings, and had he used his head to consider his contract with Septimus, and not his deep-running pockets, he surely would’ve seen all that gold for what it really was: a gilded cage. Not all that glitters is gold, and not all that’s gold glitters. Here we have him, then: a man kind and cruel, bound by integrity and bound by greed, moral and immoral, clever and foolish. A ruffian mercenary who’s now finds himself under the King’s thumb. An avaricious profiteer who will do almost anything for the right price, but a fair and just leader devoted to his men. A self-made king of Tyrholm’s rapscallions and reprobates, but a servant to a King with no principles to speak of. He’s a living, breathing paradox, always walking a fine line between two versions of self. But in Septimus’s Tyrholm, there’s no room for fair-weathered allies, and if Roland plans on terminating his contract with the King, it’ll be a bloody affair. He didn’t exactly read the contract’s fine print, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to honor a treaty with a King whose head in his a basket, right?
BACKGROUND:
He never knows his parents. His mother leaves him on the stoop of a small temple in Hightown when he’s a babe. An Emissary finds him, and for some time, he’s looked after by acolytes of the Undying. They’re kind, mostly, from what he can remember, but he never takes to faith the way they all hope he will, and as soon as he’s old enough to run, he does—he runs far, far away, straight into the underbelly of Lowtown.
The streets of Lowtown raise him, and later in life, when he’s asked about his heritage, he’ll say that Tyrholm is his mother, and she may well be, for the man he is today is due in full to her lessons.
The seaport town raises him brutally, with an iron fist. He’s a boy with only ten years of life on him, lean and fresh-faced, when he takes to the streets of Lowtown, and in his first months of independence, he’s so gaunt that you can see each divot of his ribs, and he counts them over and over again to pass the time. He’s a fast learner, a living, breathing study in survival, and he realizes in no time at all that he’ll have to earn his right to life.
He does just that. He watches the other street-dwellers, men and women of all ages and shapes and sizes, each hungrier than the last. Some fight for coin. Some beg. Some dance. Some sing arias. Some charm snakes. Some sell looted treasure, others sell their bodies. Roland watches them all, tries to map out a viable plan of action for himself. He tries his hand at magic tricks, but his sleights of hand are nowhere as advanced as the smoke and mirrors of the veteran illusionist that performs at high noon every day at the marketplace. He tries fighting, next, and he’s good at that, even at a young age, but he’s skinny, weak from hunger, and he spends what little coin he wins on herbs and medicines from the local botanist to patch himself back up. Theft is his next venture—he’s a natural. He has good, quick hands that dart in and out of pockets less intrusively than a dove’s feather carried on a springtime breeze, deft and steady. For a few years, this sustains him. He loots coin, jewels, and treasures of all sort straight from pockets and purses and holsters, and he never gets caught.
When he’s fourteen, he steals a dagger straight from the belt of a fisherman selling his catch at the docks. The hilt is carved from ivory, and the blade shines like molten moonlight beneath the dawning sun. It’ll sell well, he thinks, only… He likes it. It feels nice in the palm of his hand, lightweight enough for a fourteen-year-old to wield with no trouble at all, and he spends the next week twirling it between his fingers, sharpening it against sea-worn rocks, practicing parlor tricks. He finds he has otherworldly aim, and he hits every target, from sandbags to trees to peaches to peach pits. And so, like any man well-versed in the trade of survival, he takes his Undying-given talent and turns a profit from it. He begins performing in Lowtown’s streets, and word of the boy who can slice a pomegranate in half midair while blindfolded spreads like wildfire.
They say that idle hands are the devil’s playthings, and it isn’t long before the devils come crawling out of every corner of Lowtown in search of Roland’s hands, eager to lay claim to a boy who will no doubt make a fine weapon to be used at their discretion. A boy young enough to appear unassuming to targets and old enough to get his hands dirty. The first to find him is a headhunter named Argos, a surly bastard with scar that stretches from his left temple all the way down to the right corner of his mouth, ugly and red. The look of him makes Roland tremble, and years later, he’ll laugh at his boyish fear of a man beloved to him, a man kinder and with thrice more heart than any of the pretty-faced, rosy-cheeked nobles Roland had ever robbed.
By the grace of the Undying, Argos takes him under his wing before any of the other leeches can latch onto him. Roland isn’t a particularly religious man, but he thinks, sometimes, that maybe the Undying is real, and that maybe she does favor him, because he can think of no other reason why he was delivered into the hands of Argos, and not any of the other ghouls of Lowtown who would surely have preyed on his inexperience and whittled him into a fine weapon with an expiration date of five, maybe six more years. As it is, Argos teaches him to kill just the same as all the others would have, but he teaches him how to kill honorably, quickly. He teaches him to respect life and death in equal measure, and he warns him that what he takes from the world, he must give back to it twice over. He teaches him how to fight well and how to fight dirty. He teaches him how to fight with his hands bound, with his eyes blindfolded. He introduces him to the Warrior’s Guild, where Roland’s career as a mercenary begins.
He does as he was taught, and he gives twice over for every life he takes. In spite of the dirty work he does, humility and honor flourish impossibly within him like a garden of desert roses in dead, dry soil. He donates a portion of his coin to brothels, street performers, pickpockets—the lowliest of Lowtown, those without places and people to call home, those who can’t put a name to the feeling of love. He never forgets his roots, and though he earns his weight in gold, enough to leave Lowtown and never look back, enough to dress himself in the wares of a proper Hightowner, he never leaves. Lowtown, the Warrior’s Guild, the docks, the street urchins, the baker’s son who sneaks him scraps of burnt bread, Argos—these are all home.
He’s twenty when Argos dies on a job gone wrong, and as the underwolders of the Warrior’s Guild and Lowtown mourn the death of Argos, a night king in his own right, beloved by those who love naught, they turn to Roland with expectant eyes. Roland, the boy who Argos affectionately called “Bullseye.” Roland, the boy who Argos raised to kill well, and meaningfully. Roland, the man, now, who Argos preened to inherit his legacy, to lead the mischief-makers and nightmare-makers, to protect Tyrholm’s underworld. And so he does.
It’s no easy feat, to be sure, wrangling a group of soldiers of fortune, kingslayers, outcasts, thieves, killers. But Roland is stubborn in his determination, and he works tirelessly to weed out the evil; to foster trust between himself and the good; to create a legion of Lowtown’s meanest bastards and make something special of them. Leadership becomes him. His humility, a rare quality in Tyrholm, and his charisma inspire ironbound devotion from a breed of people who know nothing of loyalty. He’s fair and kind in equal measure, and the men and women of the Warrior’s Guild take to him like the drape of midnight sky takes to the north star. For all of Roland’s goodwill, his ruthlessness is never forgotten. A killer is a killer is a killer, and those who mistake his kindness for weakness learn well that his honor knows some bounds. He goes to great lengths to instill that same notion of honor in his host of mercenaries, and he teaches them the same lessons that were taught to him. He teaches them to kill quickly, cleanly, and honorably, and he teaches them to give the same way that Argos taught him to. They resist, in the beginning, as all creatures of habit do, but in the end, they become a fine brood of noble killers, if such a thing exists. They’re vicious bastards, all of them, but they learn to respect life and death in equal turn. In his mentor’s honor, he calls his troop of sellswords the Sons of Argos, and in no time at all, Roland and the Sons are notorious for the dirty work they do—and how well they do it.
Roland and the Sons of Argos become so notorious, in fact, that word of Tyrholm’s them reaches King Septimus himself, and he promptly offers Roland a deal that he ought to refuse. He doesn’t. Greed and the promise of prosperity for the future generations of the Sons blind him, and the moment the ink on the contract dries, dread washes over him, and he can nearly picture Argos rolling over in his grave, fixing him with that look of grim disappointment he used when he was displeased with Roland.
In the beginning, the King’s assignments aren’t so bad. Roland and the Sons are asked to tie up loose ends, eliminate political threats, clear out bandits. Easy. Roland obliges, and the dirty work he and the Sons do is immaculate. But the King’s orders grow bleaker as time passes, and soon enough, Roland can hardly sleep through the night without waking from nightmares of his own making: screams that could crack glass, the sound of weeping broken up by choppy sobs, enough blood on his hands to fill up the Sahrnian. You must give twice over what you take from this world, Argos had told him, and he’s beginning to feel the weight of a debt long overdue. He’s taken so much, lately, life after innocent life, and his moral compass whirs in protest every time he plunges his dagger into the belly of an enemy not his own.
PLOT IDEAS:
Roland breathes and bleeds for the Sons of Argos, and there’s little—no, there’s nothinghe won’t do to protect his legion, even if that means compromising his honor. The Sons of Argos is his legacy, his life’s making, and he’ll sell his soul to highest bidder to ensure the continued prosperity of his ragtag battalion. It’s why he signed the King’s contract, and it’s why he yet serves the insufferable oaf. The coin Septimus funnels into his pockets is enough to sustain the Sons for generations, and not even Roland’s stalwart honor could sway his resolve to preserve the Sons. But a life bought and owed is not a life worth living, and Roland has learned well the cost of servitude. He’s spent the last decade assembling a group of fine men and women, teaching monsters the rite of nobility, preaching the gospel of life, taking and giving it. Nothing in this world is as beloved to him as the Sons, and he’ll be damned if stands by idly and watches Septimus sic Roland’s lot of honor-bound sellswords on his enemies like a pack of rabid dogs. The Sons of Argos are a proud brood of beasts; they are not pawns to be used to wage and win the King’s infantile wars. Septimus thinks he’s bought the Sons’ loyalty, but he’d do well to remember that loyalty bought can be outbid. Loyalty earned, contrariwise, is everlasting, Roland has earned enough of the Sons’ loyalty to last lifetimes. The Sons of Argos may well serve Septimus, but it’s Roland they’ve sworn an oath to; it’s Roland they answer to, it’s Roland they kill for, and it’s Roland they bend a knee to. Should the benefits of revolting against Septimus ever outweigh the benefits of serving him, it will take only a look from Roland to rally his Sons of Argos against the King.
Do you know who’s good at rebellion? A man who’s spent years squashing the very notion of it. Since the beginning of his arrangement with Septimus, he and the Sons have been charged with eliminating uprisings of all sorts. Some fires have been more difficult to put out than others, some rebellions have been organized better than others, and some have been led by insurgents quicker and braver than others. Roland’s well-acquainted with the many shades of revolt in Tyrholm, and I’d say that makes him a damned good asset in the bid to overthrow Septimus, wouldn’t you? Roland and his Sons are a hell of wildcard if ever there was one, and as the revolters of Tyrholm begin to coalesce, they’d do well to entreat the Sons’ Captain. Let us not forget what happened to Agamemnon’s army when the King of Mycenae waged war without Achilles and his Myrmidons.
Roland, for all his vulgar mannerisms and bold-as-brass behavior, isn’t stupid. He knows he’s sitting on a small goldmine made up of The Hanged Man’s secrets—he just hasn’t decided what to do with that particular treasure trove just yet. Roland is uncannily good at playing his hand close to his chest, and he thinks he’ll wait this one out a little longer before he shows the head servant his royal flush. Perhaps he’ll reveal what he knows and use it to leverage The Hanged Man as a resource. Perhaps he’ll take the information he’s filed away and sell it to the highest bidder. He’s not sure yet, but for The Hanged Man’s sake, he hopes the poor bastard folds soon, because Roland doesn’t think they’re very good at playing this game.
Conscience, thy name is Judgment. It’s strange, really, the way the Cleric amplifies all that goodness in Roland tenfold, in turn amplifying all the guilt that goodness births when compromised. His conscience has never been particularly content with the dirty work Septimus pays him and the Sons handsomely to do, but ever since he began attending Judgment’s sermons, his remorse has made a home in the marrow of his bones. He knows what he’s doing isn’t just or good, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s Judgment who makes him feel the truth of it all, every grain of it, and he finds himself growing sick with guilt these days. You wouldn’t think a Cleric has much pull in the dawn of a war on the horizon, but it’s Judgment who has Roland’s ear, and it’s Judgment who’s beginning to make Roland wonder if, perhaps, a revolution would make for a fine penance, coin and contract be damned.
There’s a reason the moon and sun never share the sky at the same time, and there’s a reason Roland and The Fool don’t often share a room at the same time. It’s not that Roland has no respect for the King’s Captain of the Guard, because he does, but cleaning up The Fool’s messes and tying up the loose ends of their army’s incompetence is getting old, quick. Still, the sun shines favorably on The Fool, paints them in the gold of heroism and leaves Roland and his Sons to bask in the muted silver of moonlight. The Sons of Argos are in this for gold, not glory, so he doesn’t terribly mind The Fool and their men acting as frontmen and taking undue credit for the dirty work Roland and the Sons do, but the bastard has the audacity to parade around Castle Tyrholm like they’re the Undying’s gift to man. It’s only a matter of time until the tension between the pair of captains comes to a head, and when it does, Roland is sure the fallout will be catastrophic, with far-reaching repercussions. A pity, really, because if The Fool could swallow their pride and Roland could swallow his prejudice, they could do great, terrible things together.
CHARACTER DEATH: Yes, absolutely!
WRITING SAMPLE
He dreams of his life’s small joys. He dreams of poppy fields in southern Tyrholm and figs stolen from the sweet shop next to the bakery in Lowtown. He dreams of the smell of sea salt, the sound of low tide crashing against black shale rock. He dreams of the baker’s boy, who used to sneak him scraps of burnt bread when he was naught but a half-starved child. He dreams of the boy’s kind smile, and his impossibly kinder eyes: one brown, one blue. He dreams of Argos, how the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he’d laugh at Roland, face warm with a rare fondness seen once, maybe twice in a lifetime. He dreams of the Sons, the lot of them gathered in this brothel or that tavern, heads thrown back as they all boom a chorus of boisterous laughter that draws more than one sidelong glance. He dreams of JUDGMENT, the way their voice rolls like the drip of warm honey, sounds something like absolution, atonement. He dreams of a time when he was proud of the man he was, of the work he did, even the dirtiest of it, because it was done meaningfully, with honor.
He wakes with a start, and the world returns to him in pieces, slowly. First light filters dimly into the barracks, and he huffs a quiet sigh as pushes himself up into a sitting position and swings his legs over the side of his cot. The Sons sleep soundly around him, and here, like this, they look nearly…peaceful. Roland catalogues the memory and stores it somewhere in his mind it won’t soon be forgotten. The rest of Castle Tyrholm, save for those of the King’s Guard working night patrol, won’t rise until sunup, at the earliest, but Roland’s always been a bit of a bastard when it comes to the Sons’ unforgiving schedule. They’re welcome to fight and fuck and drink their weight in ale until the moon sets, but come dawn, the day’s work begins. A fair trade-off, if you ask Roland (and one that inspires good behavior without Roland having to explicitly enforce it).
Soundlessly, Roland reaches over to the bunk next to his and gives Galen, his most trusted lieutenant bar none, a solid smack on the cheek. “Up.” The command is quiet, but it carries the weight of a king’s authority all the same.  Brow pinches, Galen opens his eyes halfway and makes a vulgar gesture at Roland, who only laughs. “Fuck off,” Galen hisses as he turns half of his face back into the plush bedding of his cot, one eye closed and one trained on Roland. “Fuck off…?” Roland prompts, crooking his forefinger expectantly in a silent come on gesture. Galen rolls his one open eye. “Fuck off, Captain,” he amends. A low, throaty chuckle rumbles somewhere deep in Roland’s chest. “Better. Get dressed and gather the lot. His Grace has a job for us.” The way Roland says “His Grace” doesn’t sound particularly blasphemous, but Galen, who knows him so well, will surely have no trouble at all undressing the resentment that manifests in the way his lips curl hatefully around the King’s title. Galen passes him a long-suffering look, and Roland returns it empathetically, but they say no more on the subject. Roland dresses quickly and stands to leave, and Galen salutes him with his middle finger, but he nonetheless complies, and he, too, makes fast work of dressing.
The Dining Hall is… Well, it is as it always is. The Sons, loud and full of life even in the early hours of first light, earn more than one glare from other guests in the Hall. They’re outsiders, here, cawing ravens flying among a flock of singsong blackbirds, and the good people of Castle Tyrholm never let Roland or his Sons forget it. They don’t belong here, and as Roland catches dual sets of narrow eyes fixed on him, one belonging to THE HANGED MAN and the other belonging to THE FOOL, he wonders if they ever will. He doesn’t particularly care, so he tosses THE HANGED MAN a sly wink, and for THE FOOL, he presses his index and middle fingers against his lips and blows him a kiss. Neither seem particularly impressed with his flip, decidedly Lowtown behavior, but he cares not. Some things in this world are absolute. The sun rises each day, the sky is blue, and Roland Bishop will never balk in the face of judgment. He is as sure of the man he is as the Clerics are of the Undying. He will never waver from his spirit, his honor, his nature, and he will never know the shame of others. He is the legacy of Argos and Lowtown, a good man and a good city, in his estimation, and though he’s not always proud of the things he does, he is proud of the man he is, and he’s prouder yet of the legion he’s created. Wolves don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep, and the Sons of Argos don’t lose sleep over the opinions of a fucking cook and a Guard-Captain whose track record leaves something to be desired.
The meal is a quick one, and Roland thinks fortune might favor him today, because the Sons enter and exit the Dining Hall without brawling with any of the King’s Guard, and by the time the sun has fully risen, Roland and his men are well underfoot. They travel by horse to the northernmost point of the farmlands, where the King’s Spymaster has evidently caught wind of a budding rebellion. Roland stopped wondering long ago if there’s any truth to the Spymaster’s claims at all, or if THE DEVIL spoon-feeds the King lies just to keep the tyrant of their back.
Their journey is short, and so is the battle (if you can even call a massacre a battle) that ensues. It’s violent and bloody, but the Sons are trained for this brand of dirty work, and their victory is swift. At the end of it all, only one remains: the leader of what was a poorly organized coup that never stood a chance against the King and his cronies.
“He’s inside the barn,” Galen says as Roland kneels to push down the eyelids of a boy of no more than fifteen years. Roland doesn’t have to look up to know that Galen’s face is grim, and neither does he need a mirror to know that his own face is pale as driven snow. His gut knots and double-knots with throngs of unease, and guilt begins to gnaw in earnest at his well-meaning heart. Still, he yet goes through the motions: wipes the blood from his dagger, helps his men make a pyre of the bodies, closes the eyes of all the dead and prays that they’ll be better off in their next lives than they were in this one. When the dirty work is done, he joins the rest of the Sons in the estate’s small barn, where they wait with the self-crowned king of what was a novice mutiny at best and a botched rally at worst.
In the chaos of carnage, Roland hadn’t gotten a good look at the rebels’ fearless, foolish leader, and seeing him now, the knots in his stomach tighten tenfold. He’s on his knees with his head hung low, held at either of his arms by two Sons and stayed by a third, whose sword is pressed flush against his neck. He looks about the same age as Roland, maybe a few years his youth, with sun-soaked hair that looks reddish in places wet with blood. The Sons wait patiently for Roland’s command, the quiet of the room a stark foil to the noisy bustle of the Dining Hall earlier that morning.
“What’s your name?” he asks, voice soft as a slip of cotton hung out to dry. The man doesn’t answer; he doesn’t even look up. Roland looses a quiet sigh. The King has instructed him, as he always does, to gather whatever information he can—by any means necessary. He and the Sons are meant to gut villagers bloody and cut out their tongues if they don’t divulge their secrets. They’re meant to exterminate the hope of revolution and send a message to neighboring revolters. They’re meant to be hounds that bite at the heels of a people who have everything to lose and risk it yet for naught but the meager chance of a Tyrholm free of Septimus’s plague of pride and greed. But the Sons of Argos are no dogs. Killers they may be, but they’re a proud brood, the lot of them, and they do their dirty work with as much honor as they can. If it’s gore and bloodletting Septimus wants, let the old prick get off his throne and terrorize wives and sons and husbands and daughters himself.
Roland was taught to kill honorably and quickly, to respect life and death in equal measure, and he pays homage the lessons of Argos daily. It’s clear that the rebel-king isn’t feeling particularly chatty, and if he won’t loosen his tongue, there’s not much to be done about it. There’s not much to be done at all, really, except to give the man a quick and honorable death. “You fought well,” Roland murmurs. He means it. Galen is sporting what Roland can only assume is a broken nose given to him by the man, and it had taken more than one Son to fully bring him down. Death, too, must be earned, and this man, with all his lionheart courage, has earned his. Distantly, Roland thinks that this very man could’ve perhaps toppled Septimus’s rule himself, if given the proper resources. He has the grit for rebellion, to be sure, and the spirit, too, but he lacks the wherewithal, the time, the training. A pity, he muses. He could’ve made history, the poor bastard.
Out of the corner of his eye, Roland catches Galen staring at him intently, curiously, like he knows exactly what he’s thinking, and maybe he does. Galen opens his mouth, maybe to ask something, maybe to say something, but Roland gives him a fractional shake of his head, and Galen presses his lips into a tight line, no doubt making a mental note to badger Roland about it later. Eyes full of mourning and mouth set in steel, Roland looks over to Myra, the Son with her sword pressed against the man’s neck, and gives her a curt nod. She returns the gesture, and after drawing a deep inhale, she rears the sword far back and up, ready to deliver the final blow. The man, surely sensing his impending death, at last lifts his head, and Roland lets out a swift, sharp whistle that cuts through the air like broken glass. It’s a command to stop, and Myra, knowing the sound of the pitch for what it is, obeys, lowering the sword non-threateningly as Roland stares at the face before him: a man roughly his age, with one brown eye, and one blue.
The baker’s son.
Dread washes Roland’s face a shade of white impossibly paler than before, and he makes a punched-out noise as he remembers hot summers and cold winters spent starving, the sickly feeling of tightness clenching a stomach unfed, the thick fatigue of near-death staved off by the baker’s son, who had been the first person in Tyrholm to teach Roland well-learned lessons of kindness, charity, compassion. The boy who, even in his youth, radiated the kind of warmth and generosity that Roland has never seen in men and women who have lived full lives. His first friend, if you can call breaking bread together and stealing water from Callia Lancaster’s well and playing card games and chasing each other around on the docks friendship.
Recognition spark’s in his once-maybe-friend’s eyes, and the sea-glass green of them shifts from hate, to grief, to nostalgia, and then, finally, to something that looks remarkably like…understanding. Understanding, even now, even on the brink of death. This, Roland thinks, is honor. This, Roland thinks, is what he has perhaps forgotten in his years in the King’s employ. Idly, he thinks JUDGMENT would like this man. His endless reservoir of kindness is something divine, something reminiscent of faith, something that JUDGMENT would take to with overwhelming fondness.
Roland draws forward and places his hand over Myra’s, which remains gripped tightly around the hilt of her sword, and pushes it down, a silent command to lay down her arms. It’s said that the one who passes the sentence should swing the sword, but in the business of sellswords, that’s hardly ever the case, and in Tyrholm, that’s never the case, for the King is far too cowardly to do his dirty work himself.
This, though… This responsibility belongs to Roland and Roland alone. It’s personal, not business, and he can feel the heavy weight of his duty in his pockets, where the King’s coin rests. Argos had always warned him of the looming dangers of this trade, the threat to one’s honor, one’s soul, one’s spirit. Are you worth your weight in gold? he’d often asked him. I will be, Roland had always answered, because he’d thought, then, that Argos had been asking him if he’d grossed a sum of gold equal to his weight. Now, he thinks, he at last understands the question: is it worth it? Have you earned your weight in gold? Is the man you are today worthy of that coin?
Gently, nearly tenderly, Roland cradles his hand against the side of the man’s face. The baker’s son doesn’t flinch. The irony isn’t lost on Roland: he must give back what he takes from this world twice over, and here he is, about to take the life of a man who gave him his. You should’ve let me starve, he wants to say. You should’ve let me die. He wants to apologize, he wants to explain himself, but he won’t do this good man the dishonor of wasting his last moments of life assuaging his own guilt, so he instead reaches into the pocket of his breeches and pulls out a pouch of gold. He tosses it to Galen, who catches it reflexively. “There’s a bakery in Lowtown south of the bay, with a red roof and green door. Bring it to them.” Galen raises an eyebrow in silent question, but he turns on his heel, exits the barn, and mounts his horse all the same. “You’re family will be looked after for generations,” he promises. He knows it won’t be enough to absolve the blood on his hands, not this time, but he hopes it’ll be enough to bring the man some peace of mind. He thinks maybe it does, because the baker’s son smiles. He dies smiling. Roland strikes quick and fast, drives his dagger straight through a heart of gold. It’s a quick, painless death that lasts the span of a few heartbeats, at most, and it stays with Roland for the remainder of all his years.
That night, when Roland lays his head down to sleep, he doesn’t dream.
EXTRAS
Pinterest. MBTI: ESTP. Astrology: Aries (April 19th). Moral Alignment: True Neutral. Enneagram Type: Type 8. Headcanons:
He isn’t best fighter in Tyrholm, but he may well be the most adaptive. In his boyhood, Argos taught him combat techniques that he’d observed in the east, and the west, and the north, and the south. Roland has killed men from all over the continent, from all walks of life, and though many balk at his nontraditional manner of bloodshed, he’s quick and efficient, and he and his Sons always get the job done. They say it’s uncouth, the way he fights, the weapons he uses, but The Fool’s etiquette (knighthood proper, that one) hasn’t exactly done them a whole lot of good, has it? Roland is as quick as lightning and twice as hot in a fight, and he’s been known to use exotic weapons when he’s doing his dirty work. Of all his tools, his favorites are his decade-old ivory dagger and a sickle-shaped pair of handheld scythes.
Roland doesn’t share the King’s low opinion of magic. Raised by Tyrholm’s streets, by whores and beggars magicians and street urchins and musicians and muses, Roland learned young to embrace all walks of life, and his schools of thought are all considerably flexible. His opinion of magi is no exception. People fear what they do not understand, and as a mercenary with a moral compass, a man who’s been misunderstand by the masses his entire life, he can empathize.
Because he was looked after by worshippers of the Undying in his boyhood, he’s considerably literate for a man of his…lifestyle, and he’s actually quite smart, despite appearances. He’s well-read and well-taught, but the true nature of his wherewithal is known only to Judgment and the Sons.
Roland and the Sons reside permanently in taverns in Lowtown, and impermanently in the barracks. Though the lot of them have more than enough coin to afford taverns in Hightown, Roland prefers to keep the company of Lowtowners, and he finds that he and his Sons fit in far better there than farther north. He supposes that the King is fond enough of him—or the work he does, at least—to allow Roland and the Sons to occupy Castle Tyrholm’s guest quarters, but Roland has never asked such a thing of Septimus, and he never will. When their services are needed, Roland and the Sons stay in the barracks alongside The Fool’s soldiers, partly because Roland wants the Sons to remember their humility, and partly because he wants to piss of The Fool. Whether in Lowtown taverns or the barracks, Roland sleeps right alongside his lieutenants and soldiers, intent on remembering his own humility, too.
Whistling. It’s how the Sons communicate without speaking, and it drives just about every resident of Castle Tyrholm mind-achingly mad. Their secret tongue was initially created as a way to signal one another for help, but since signing on to work for King Septimus, Roland will often whistle to deliver commands or messages to the Sons in order to keep confidential matters from reaching the ears of bystanders. Different pitches have different connotations, and more than one Castle Tyrholm has bellyached about the secret smiles and obnoxious laughter exchanged between the Sons when Roland lets out a low whistle after a meeting with the King or The Fool. Still, even the loudest critics of the Sons’ nonverbal lingo can’t deny the sheer impressiveness of the way the Sons fall in line with naught but a whistle rendered from their Captain.
Though looked after by Clerics and Emissaries for much of his early boyhood, Roland never quite took to faith the way his caretakers had hoped he might. But he’s taken to Judgment the way most people take to religion, like they’re something absolute, something worthy of his hard-won devotion, and he can’t help but feel like some of their lessons are beginning to rub off on him. He thinks the Emissary who took him in would faint if she could see him now, knelt quietly in the foremost pew of the Sanctum, hands clasped as he listens to Judgment’s sermon with a look on his face caught somewhere between reverence and admiration. Life comes full circle, he supposes, and he finds himself growing increasingly fascinated by the idea of the Undying, of goodness, of life’s purpose. He wants to learn more about it all, he thinks. Or maybe he just wants to learn more about Judgment.
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cruezins · 5 years ago
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       ☣  ;  (  KIM TAEHYUNG  ,  24  ,  HE/HIM  )  coming up next on rebel radio is OPAUL by FREDDIE DREDD  .  this tune goes out to SIWON RYU  .  rumor has it they just rolled into town and are fightin’ for the GHOULS  .  they’re AFFABLE  ,  INQUISITIVE but also AIMLESS  ,  MERCURIAL so watch your backs out there  .  we wish them the best of luck here in our golded city of light  .  stay vigilant  ,  stay dirty rock ‘n rollers and we’ll catch you for the next one  .
𝐎𝐎𝐂  :  hello  !  i’m deni and i don’t know what editing is  .  i use she/her pronouns and live in the gmt+9 timezone  .   i’m terrible with ooc chats and half the time just want to vibe a connection or plot idea  ,  so please don’t hesitate to throw a half-formed thought at me because i swear i’ll do the same  .  my discord is gay fairy#6371  .  anyway  ,  here is siwon  ,  someone i’ve been work-shopping for a while  !  looking forward to writing with you  ♡
                     ☣  ;  𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇  .
cw  :  drug mentions  ;  stop me if you’ve heard this one before------
       his dad’s a junkie and he hasn’t seen his mom since some fatcats bought their restaurant for a steal a few years before  ,  but that’s the way of life for a lot of people in the underground  .  young  ,  bored  ,  and desperate to hear and smell anything that wasn’t the rottenness of his own childhood home  ,  siwon found himself on the streets more nights than not  ,  spray paint in one hand   ,  painting nights in greens and purples until reds and blues chased him away  .  makes his first steal before he can tie his shoes  .  creates alliances with the neighborhood kids  ,  sneaks around to watch how the haves live with their pretty  ,  pretty screens and their ugly  ,  ugly words  .  school isn’t anything special  ,  either  ,  and while siwon can’t remember shit that he reads from a page he can work with his hands  .  fast and efficient  ,  nimble fingers whether they’re flying across a keyboard or fucking around with some screws  .  you can make something of yourself  ,  some of his teachers tell him while others can’t stop bitching about homework or tardiness or the way he falls asleep in the middle of class  .  but what’s siwon supposed to make  ?  he and his ragtag group of weirdos he calls friends  .  when he gets older and nights get hungrier  ,  siwon learns to stop relying on the benevolence of neighbors and finds a job  ---  he’s fast  ,  after all  ,  with a sweet face and wide eyes  ,  makes a helluva getaway after years and years of running  .  
       thieving’s a natural grift  .  he’d been training for this his whole life  .  then he catches the eyes of a boss man who isn’t nearly as mad as he should be catching some kid with his wallet in his hands  .�� courier comes next  ,  ferrying messages from a bunch of suits all over the city  .  siwon never opened the packages  ,  never second guesses the credits that start bloating his account  .  desperate  ,  he does what he’s told and does it well ------ and that’s the real kicker  ,  isn’t it  ?  that after a year and some-odd months of dedicated service they leave him high and dry with some bullshit he doesn’t have any involvement with  .  after years of running  ,  boys in blue finally catch him and he’s left to take the fall of some dumb fuckery  ,  man  ,  and he’s pissed  .  steaming in jail  ,  it’s a wonder some other gang didn’t get to him first  .  the longer he sat and talked with that ghoul member  ,  the more he grew to despise the rich  ,  the ones who left him to rot after all the shit he did for them  .  what was even the point anymore  ?  dog eat dog kind of bullshit  ,  no sense of loyalty or shit anywhere  .  the law and all that money was out to get him from the beginning and siwon had enough of it  .  a few months locked up but he learned and leaned and learned  ,  only able to get out on a technicality  .  the second he stepped back out into the sun  ,  siwon followed the map given to him and signed up for the ghouls  .  city of light be damned  .  the only lights he wants to see are flames eating this hellhole alive  .
                    ☣  ;  𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  .
➤  full name.  ryu si-won ➤  date of birth.  january 29th ➤  hometown.  city of light ➤  gender.  cis male ➤  affiliation.  ghouls  ➤  primary occupation.  drug runner  ,  pickpocket  ➤  secondary occupation.  network manager at an internet cafe 
➤  sexual attraction.  pansexual ➤  romantic attraction.  panromantic ➤  character alignment.  chaotic neutral ➤  personality type.  enfp ➤  temperament.  sanguine ➤  wants.  power  ,  family
       stands around 5′11  .  broad shoulders  ,  slim hips  .  floppy  ,  messy hair and sun browned skin  .  half legs  .  a few pieces of silver in his ears and a small hoop on his bottom lip  .  dresses somewhere between a washed up rockstar  ,  your college weed dealer  ,  and a miami vice reject  .  style’s a whim with a closet’s chaotic mix of anything he thrifts or patches together  .  most of the time he’s sporting cuffed jeans  ,  vintage blouse  ,  a denim jacket or tweed blazer and thick ass boots  .  keeps all that hair back with a bandanna or a headband  ,  hair ties on his wrist  .  nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal —— or simply just a steal  .  likes colors just as much as he likes his neutrals  .  wears a black air filtration mask and fingerless gloves  .  considers his floral button-up shirts fancy material and his trousers cut off at the ankles  .  likes the smell of old leather and the breathing of fringe on a jacket  ,  the weight of heavy rings on his fingers and sunglasses swooped low on his nose  .  wears a monocle because he can’t be fucked with reading glasses  .   his hair’s been every color of the rainbow and he’s always changing it up thanks to temporary dye  .
                                    ☣  ;  𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄  .
       hustles at arcade halls  ,  scarfs down ramen and burritos like they’re gonna disappear  ,  looks as comfortable in a dark  ,  dirty alley as he does standing under all those lights in the neon district  .  pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips  .  likes cheap beer and cigarettes  ,  fast talking and smooth smiles  .  gets up when the sun goes down  .  who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep  ,  but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere  .  seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee  ,  at the internet cafe one moment and grabbing fried cheese sticks in the next before crossing the bridge to watch the street races and venturing to the tunnels for the fighting rings  .  complains about being broke but puts down bets faster than anyone  .  lives for the feeling of wind in his hair so the window of his top-floor one bedroom shit hole stays open all the time  .  feels the rain on his skin  ,  plays with matches  .   learned how to assemble a gun in less than sixty seconds and stays packing nowadays though he can’t really shoot for shit  .  spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls  .  looks like an angel under all those holographic lights  .
       rides a motorbike and his skateboard  .  can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy  .  can barely stand to sit still  ,  always moving except when there’s a computer screen in front of him  .  gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary  ---  people  ,  food  ,  liquor  ,  feelings  .  craves that intimacy  ,  craves that closeness that’s always been denied to him  .  has a loud as fuck laugh and a love for sneaking into places where he doesn’t belong  .  catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease  .  still sees his family  .  not as much as a good son would  ,  but he sends cash when he can and looks after his younger sister  ,  makes sure she stays well and clean  .  they don’t know half of what he’s gotten up to since he was let out of prison  ,  but they might have some idea --- after all  ,  who’d pay a crooked boy with a record as well as he seems to be  ?  when the sun starts to come up and he crashes into bed  ,  siwon stares out the window and thinks about how in another world  ,  or in another time he probably could’ve been something  .  could’ve made something great  .  but for now he’s just got a whole lot of anger  ,  raw like a fresh wound he can’t stop picking at  .  
                           ☣  ;  𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔  ?
➤  bonds.  my loyalty to my friends is unwavering  ;   i owe everything to my mentor --- a horrible person who’s rotting in jail somewhere  ;  i fleeced the wrong person and must work to ensure this individual never crosses paths with me  . ➤  flaws.  once i pick a goal  ,  i become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life  ;  when I see something valuable  ,  i can't think about anything but how to steal it  ;  i have a weakness for the vices of the city  . 
       he’s friendly  ,  but he doesn’t make friends easily --- the ones that he has made  ,  he’d do anything for  .  because that’s how he’s gotten this far  ,  right  ?  all those people who looked after him when others tried to stomp him out  .  he’s still close with his teen friends who threw a few grifts with him  ,  gaming buddies that he knows only through a screen  .  little escapes from all the other bullshit going on in the world  .  even though he isn’t a club guy  ,  he runs into more than a few faces on his rounds  .  maybe they’re bad influences or sweethearts who help that touch starved affliction that comes from living in a city so wired  .  on the flip side  ,  there’s some enemies --- competitors in the runner world  ,  antagonists he meets at the races or rings for whatever reason  (  insane bets make tempers run hot  ,  who knows when they’ll flare for good and siwon’s learning the hard way how to keep his mouth shut  )  .  he’s fixed up a few cars or weapons for people recently because he misses working with his hands  .  y’know  ,  making nice  .  then there’s people he’s caught in a crossfire with  ,  where they’ve met something nasty one too many times before over turf  ,  territory and clients  .  a newer face to the ghouls  ,  he’s bugged someone into mentoring him  ,  and gone on a few runs with someone he loves to call a coworker  .  
       eager to prove himself as more than a green kid with a keyboard and an eye for detail  ,  find him cutting deals and making trades in smokey barbecue houses  ,  hole-in-the wall ramen shops or by taco tents  .  a full bellied class of clients are happy clients in his opinion  ,  and siwon isn’t above not making deals with the other groups who’s names aren’t violent delights  .  speaking of which  ---  there are definitely some skeletons there he aims to confront  ,  some old demons to fight from that class of people that fucked him over  .  there’s an ex lover in there somewhere  ,  probably met in that pre-prison childhood phase when he mingled past class lines more  ( ~1.5-2 years ago )  .  someone he’s healthily fearful of for whatever reason  ,  and maybe a vendetta against the family that scammed his parents out of their business and basically sent his life spiraling  .  there’s someone who isn’t what they seem  --- he doesn’t know who they really are  ,  and maybe they don’t know who he is  ,  either  .  they’ll learn eventually  .  someone he’s protective over  ,  someone who protects him in ways he doesn’t even know  ,  and those he looks after because they grew up on the same side  .  desperate for connection  ,  desperate for a place  ,  he finds it all in heaven and hell  .
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fyrapartnersearch · 4 years ago
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Roleplay Search!
Hello! Welcome to my ad! I apologize ahead of time if it’s very lengthy and boring, I just like to cover any base I can ahead of time to avoid future conflicts or misunderstandings. Let’s go ahead and get introductions out of the way, shall we?
  For starters, I go by Arturia online, but call me whatever. Nicknames are cool and we’re all here to have a good time with writing, so I’m not too picky with much. I’m about to turn 20 years old and I prefer she/her pronouns. I live in the Central Timezone, though am often up at odd hours. The summer is here and so I should have a fair bit of freetime for writing, plus I’ve been craving more partners to rp with, so here I am! Let me detail a bit about my basic requirements/info for rp and then I can tell you about my cravings for rp currently!
  RP Basics:
I will rp any pairing, but prefer to play as a female in either FxF or MxF pairings. Do not come to me to be simply a male in either a MxF or MxM pairing, I will drop it. If I am playing a male, I generally prefer to double.
Smut: I will write it, but occasionally prefer to fade-to-black. Needless to say, you must be 18+ to contact me for an rp. Not only for the potential for smut, but also because of the potential for darker themes to be involved. Also, I do not want a smut-centered rp, sorry. And the characters in the rp have to be of age if we’re writing smut for them. I get there’s trauma and stuff in their backstories, but I will not write that stuff for underage characters whatsoever.
OOC Chat. I love it, but will not force it. If you’re somebody who wants to be all business, that’s totally fine! Just let me know! Same goes if you wanna chitchat 24/7 and send memes back and forth, just let me know how you wanna handle this! New friends or business partners who only discuss the rp, I don’t mind either way!
Triggers/Limits: I don’t have many myself, aside from the general consensus with smut (No to anything illegal or anything with bathroom stuff, sorry but not really sorry y’all.) If you have any triggers or limits, both in regular rp and smut, let me know please!! I do not want to accidentally upset somebody, so let me know ahead of time!!
Replies. I can’t guarantee a set schedule for my replies, just due to life stuff. I will try to get one out daily, if not every other day, and will let you know if something comes up. I expect some sort of notice from you and will message you again after a week to check in unless told ahead of time otherwise. 
Writing Style. I write in Third-Person and expect you to do the same, sorry but 1st really doesn’t work for me and I cannot write 3rd against your 1st. In terms of length, that varies depending on my partner’s preferred length and the contents of the rp, but I generally shoot for at least a few paragraphs. I expect at least a few from you as well, just to give me something to work with. No one-liners or close to that, please.
Rp Method. Email or Discord. Either of those two work and are what I prefer to use. I won’t use anything else. Maybe Google Docs, but don’t rely on that. I’ll leave my contact info at the bottom of this ad!
  Roleplay Types:
Fandoms:
Harry Potter: CanonxOC or OC. If CanonxOC, we can double if you’d like, but I’d like somebody to play Sirius Black against my OC. It could start from their final year at school and go into the First Wizarding War and beyond. We can follow the original plot or twist it up, I’d love to discuss this with somebody!
Animes: Haikyuu, Fate Series, Log Horizon, SAO, Attack on Titan, Black Butler, Naruto, Tokyo Ghoul, Fairy Tail, MHA, Dr. Stone, literally just shoot me any anime you’re thinking of and we can discuss it. Either CanonxOC or OC depending on the anime in particular, just let me know. But I’m really craving a Tokyo Ghoul (OCs) or Attack on Titan (CanonxOC or OCs) at the moment!
Fire Emblem: I've never done a rp for this, but I'd so be willing to! Either OC or CanonxOC!
Marvel! I'd love to do a CanonxOC or OC rp for this!
Honestly, dude, just shoot me a fandom, I cannot remember every single one. Chances are, I’ve heard of it/am a part of it. If not, I might be willing to read up on it if the plot interests me!
Original:
Post-Apocalyptic: Literally craving this so bad. I want to explore a variety of scenarios that could cause an apocalypse. Maybe it starts out with zombies but turns out to be some mad scientist government figure experimenting on people and trying to take over the world to build his own world??? 
Fantasy: Anything and everything, I’m a sucker for it. Typically go for medieval fantasy, but literally shoot me your ideas. We can work on them together!
Sci-Fi: This goes sort of in hand with fantasy, but I would like to work on some sort of space pirates plot, with our characters going around saving planets and running away from various law officials.
Really, the only original genre that would be a bit difficult for me is slice-of-life. We would have to work on that and really work to keep it interesting, I don’t want to write the daily life of college students, in all honesty, I need something to keep it interesting.
  Contact Info:
  I hope you made it through all of that and are still interested! If you are, please contact me through one of the means listed below and tell me about yourself as well as what sort of roleplay you are interested in. When telling me about yourself, please include your name, age, timezone, dos and donts of rp, as well as any triggers or anything else I need to know about you! I hope to hear from you soon!
Discord: Arturia Pendragon#5056
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fo4survivor-liambarnes · 4 years ago
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Entry Five- Nov. 1st, 2287
Had to abandon the truck- damn thing doesn't do well off-road, I think some sort of scrap I ran over screwed up the suspension. Diamond City's a long way on foot.
Thought I'd left marching through the night behind, but I guess not. What was that damn quote I was gonna use in my speech... "war never changes"? Neither do blisters.
*Shit*. How am I supposed to get anywhere in this damned hellhole of a world? I'm a sniper, for fuck's sake, I can't *stand* walking around in power armor, but if I can't reach safe places to sleep every night...
War never changes, alright... it's shit every fuckin' time. And now there's no nice safe home to go back to when we're done- hell, there's no *done*, there's just monsters and ghouls and giant freaking bugs.
If I weren't dead certain my son is out there somewhere, I'd-
No. No, this has just been a shit day. Keep moving, Liam. Keep moving.
Dunno if this entry made much sense- shit day, shit week, shit month. Can't focus, got nothing I can do with all this... I'm so goddamn angry. They took him and I can't do a damn thing about it. I can barely survive out here, even with all my training.
Guess it's a good thing I'm just recording these for my own sake, huh? Course... maybe the pretense that someone might find them would give me an excuse to try and make a bit more sense when I'm pissed off.
If anyone has gotten ahold of these journals? I hope it's cause I know you. God knows the other option- that you're digging through whatever's on my dead body- is too damn likely these days.
-Sgt. Liam Barnes
((OOC- yes, this blog is still alive! I’ve had a rough year, but I’m back to playing Fallout and will be continuing to document Liam’s journey through the Commonwealth. I did, however, have to completely rebuild my modlist, so, uh, fingers crossed that I didn’t break anything.
Also, realistically, Liam abandoned the car because I realized the drivable vehicles mod is a bit... buggy in terms of physics. Unfortunate limitations of the game engine, I suspect...))
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ko-fanatic · 6 years ago
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Blue Blood Tastes The Same (part 1)
Rating: Mature
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Summary: The smell of "Commoner's" coffee and blood hung in the air, and Haruhi considered her position. She'd never really considered herself as weak before, but now... She was like prey. One day, Tamaki would decide to eat her, and there was nothing she could do about it... Right?Honestly, she doesn't know why he doesn't just get it over with...
Haruhi Fujioka had never met a ghoul. She lived in a fairly comfortable neighbourhood, went to a prestigious school, and didn’t really talk to strangers… or many people, for that matter. She exchanged pleasantries, was civil, and that was about it. She had a goal to reach, and that took precedence over being some sort of socialite. So… Why was she in this sort of situation?
All she wanted to do was find a quiet place to study, the libraries (all four of them) full of chattering students; which meant a lot of wandering around and hoping she could find a room that was both quiet and available for student use. Ouran was a big place, but she had to make her way to the music room she’d heard was “abandoned” in the hopes of saving some of her precious time to study.
If a time machine was ever invented, she was going to go back in time and warn herself. Seriously.
While silent outside, when she opened the door, there was music and chatter, forks and knives scraping against fine china. It looked like some kind of fancy restaurant, some boys going around in suits and aprons, plates and trays balanced effortlessly, and light piano music dancing in the air; courtesy of a blonde boy sitting at a grand piano.
Damn rich people. They could be using this time to study, but here they are. Why did Ouran even have a restaurant up here, anyway?
The music stopped, a discordant note cutting through the atmosphere, and she found a couple of people staring, namely the servers. There was some forced sounding chatter, which was a little jarring in itself, but before she could really think much of it she realised that the young pianist was rushing over towards her.
“Excuse me, sir, but this is a private club,” He explained, stopping a little too close but nothing all that invasive, “You need a membership, I’m afraid; so, I have to ask that you leave. My apologies, but rules are rules. Right, Kyoya?”
A thin, black haired boy peered up from where he was sitting on an over-stuffed, ornate couch, his glasses catching the light. If he didn’t look like he could be blown away by a strong gust of wind, she might’ve been scared; in fact, if she were brutally honest with herself, she did feel some minor, instinctual tugging in her gut, but she ignored it.
“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” The boy – Kyoya – nodded, slowly rising from his seat. His uniform was similar to the other waiters – she supposed that was the most apt description – but not as fitted. His waistcoat was loose and awkwardly cinched in at the waist, his thin thighs swallowed by his trousers, which were only really kept up by his belt. It was… alarming, in all honesty; he looked like some sort of high-fashion concept sketch.
“How do you know I don’t have a membership?” She challenged. She didn’t want one, obviously, but more to be difficult. They hadn’t done anything to check and didn’t even know her name – that blond guy was under the impression she was a boy after all, not that she really cared either way. Was it the uniform? It was probably the uniform…
“We make an effort to remember our dear clients in order to form a closer, more personal relationship,” The blond explained with a flourish, Kyoya coming over to join the conversation. She wasn’t that bothered, really; her gaze shifted over the room and its patrons.
It was a nice place with tasteful decorations, like some expensive restaurant out of a movie, and it seemed like they went all out. As expected of students here, she supposed. There were candles and flowers at every table, the servers carrying on as if she weren’t there, despite their initial staring. Meat was popular, it seemed, but she supposed that they could certainly afford it – wait.
The dishes were just meat, no vegetables or side dishes to be seen, and a lot of it looked almost raw. That was enough to put her on edge, even if she thought it was ridiculous; blue meat was supposed to be a delicacy, right? Still, something in her told her to run.
That was when she spotted one girl, sitting on her own, frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth. Nothing was particularly notable about her, accept for something she really couldn’t ignore; on said fork was… an eyeball. A human eyeball, she was sure. It stole the oxygen from her lungs, and she had to dig her heels in to stop herself from taking off in a sprint right then and there.
They were ghouls. If she tried to run, being as slow as she was, they would catch up to her in no time. She could be staring at her murderer right that second, the chipper blond might look somewhat flamboyant, but the tailored waistcoat and shirt basically flaunted the fact her was strong; especially compared to the sickly boy next to him.
“Yeah, fine, I… I’ll go,” She stammered out, and then cursed herself for it. There was a shift in his expression, the cheery smile fading into something darker and a lot toothier, but his eyes. As with all ghouls, his eyes were the thing that scared her the most, black surrounding red and gazing at her like she was his prey.
Because, in that moment, that was exactly what Haruhi Fujioka was.
The worst thing was, they caught the attention of a couple of other servers; two identical boys with ginger hair. They seemed curious, before they broke out into Cheshire cat grins, their eyes turning those same, horrific colours.
Despite how idiotic, how futile, it might have been; she ran.
Her shoes hit the marble floor at such a rate that she actually hurt her feet, and she ran faster than she ever had before. But it was futile. He moved far too fast, and while she just about managed to get down the corridor, it wasn’t enough. He tackled her to the ground, looming over her for a second before taking a deep inhale, the groan sounding too similar to something she didn’t want to think about.
“You smell delicious, human,” He growled, and all she could do was stare into those demonic, glowing eyes as he licked his lips, “There are certain doors you shouldn’t open, you know. If you were a ghoul, you might have enjoyed your stay; now, however, I can’t let you live. Besides… I’m sure you’ll taste heavenly ~”
“Please don’t!” She tried to beg, tears in her eyes as a string of drool dropped from the corner of his mouth and onto her cheek. It was all she could do, scared out of her mind and about to be eaten, “Or… If you do… Please don’t tell dad I ran away. I don’t want him to… To think… Even though he will…”
She was just babbling. Not that she’d be able to talk her way out anyway, being underneath a hungry ghoul, but all she could do was stutter out that one request, screwing her eyes closed and bracing herself for the pain. Hopefully, it’d be quick, but this moment seemed to last a lifetime and… nothing was happening.
She slowly opened her eyes, and a beautiful pair of blue irises greeted her; not the red and black sclera from before. There was something there, some shift in his expression that made him seem almost human, an unidentifiable emotion. It was slow, but unexpected, when he pushed himself to his feet. It didn’t look like he knew what was happening himself, his eyes wide and acting as if he was on autopilot, and he just kept looking at her the whole time – right in the eye.
“Boss?”
The inquiry startled her, and the staring match broke. The two twins stood there, eyes red and black and inhuman, but their faces softer; more questioning than anything else. There was a moment of silence, of deliberation, and the blond spoke low and calm.
“I’m not hungry enough right now, not for a delicacy like it will be…” He stated, still looking a little shell-shocked beneath his calm façade, but the twins didn’t seem to notice the tense, silent atmosphere.
“Well, boss, maybe we should eat her ourselves -?” One purred, only to be cut off by a loud growl.
“IT’S MINE!” The “boss” bit, snarling and baring his teeth, before that cooler air took over. It was quiet again, for a moment or two, before he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. He paused for only a moment before disappearing, just enough to give instructions that were obviously for her, “It will come to the club tomorrow, after school. It will not go home. It will not hide. It will do as it’s told or be torn to pieces.”
She could barely process it over the confusion, not knowing what happened, but the twins merely looked at each other and shrugged. Their eyes returned to their normal – or, not ghoulish – colours, and gave her their own goodbyes.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day, human; better do as you’re told!”
A/N: I just want to make it clear. Attitudes and personalities change with AUs, and I want to point this out before I get a million reviews saying they're OOC. Tamaki's thing is going to be explored a little later, don't worry. In fact, everything will. Patience is a virtue, after all...
Also, comments help inspire my productivity, so please go ahead! :)
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shorelineshelter · 8 years ago
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I Roam The City In A Shopping Cart: Fallout 3
((OOC: Warnings- Descriptions of Sex Slavery and Past Torture))
When the man walked past Charon, he’d expected to see a slaver following his wake.The collar was a dead giveaway, not to mention the painfully thin frame. Ahzrukhal did order him to keep an eye on everyone that came in, so he was bound to notice things like this. Especially when an owner didn’t breeze in behind him.
Ahzrukhal noticed too. “Hey, smoothskin, where’s your master? I don’t hide your kind. Not for free at least.”
“Ain’t got one.” The man smirks, his voice strong and proud. Most slaves had weak, broken voices from being ordered into silence. (Or from screaming.) Before Ahzrukhal could open his mouth to respond, the human had turned to look at Charon, giving the ghoul in question a good look at the broken control mechanism on his collar. There was something he couldn’t place in the man’s expression.
“See something you like, pretty boy?” Ahzrukhal had to be the center of attention, as per usual. If it wasn’t about him, he’d get huffy and try to fix that. “I see you making eyes at Charon. He’s quite a catch, yeah?”
The newcomer nods, not bothering to look back at Ahzrukhal.
“Wanna see a trick?” Charon knows where this is going. “Charon, put our lovely guest on your shoulders.”
He easily hoists the small man up. Things like this made him feel like a circus act.
“Neat, huh?” Ahzrukhal has a nasty grin on his face, thinking he’s being impressive. “Does anything I tell him, he’s one hell of a loyal mutt.” His eyes light up for a moment, gesturing a bit. “You can even hit him if you want, Char’ let him sock you-”
“Fuck you, I’m not hitting a man who can’t fight back!” The stranger tenses with every word out of Ahzrukhal’s mouth, his hands resting on Charon’s head.
Ahzrukhal just shrugs, chuckling. “Aw, you’re no fun. Char’ you can put him down now.”
As he did, Charon got the feeling that shit was about to go down. Ahzrukhal must have felt it too because he tuts before saying, “Don’t look at me like that, smoothskin. Don’t get any funny ideas either. He ain’t just for show, get outta line and he’ll shoot you before you reach the counter.”
“Oh. I see.”
Scratch feeling, Charon knows shit’s going down tonight. He can see it in the way the man fists his hands into the ridiculous flowy pants he’s wearing.
When he strolls up to the counter, he’s staring Ahzrukhal down. “How much.”
“Beer’s-” Ahzrukhal can’t reem off prices before the man bangs a fist on the bar, cutting him off.
“I’m not asking about booze , you asshole, I want to know how much his-” The smoothskin struggles for a split second before spitting out “-contract is.” like it’s poison on his tongue.
Ahzrukhal barks out a laugh. “You can’t fucking afford it, pretty boy!”
“ Try me. ” he demands, voice hard, fingers tight on the counter.
When Ahzrukhal realizes he’s being serious and gives a price, he balks when the human starts pulling out measured bags of caps and doubles it. This does nothing except make the process take a little longer. He finishes, and holds out his hand while the bartender sputters.
Charon almost expects to be ordered to take out the smoothie so Ahzrukhal can steal the abundance of caps he’s carrying on him. Instead, he feels the mood shift as his contract changes hands. The human turns to face him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Unfinished business?”
He nods.
“Have fun.”
It’s not like he was going to ask for permission to gun down his former owner, but it felt much more satisfying with his endorsement. After the smoke quite literally clears from the room, Charon looks to his new boss.
“Better, big guy?” He says with a lopsided grin.
Again he nods.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t plan on ordering you to do anything you don’t want. Name’s-” he pauses, making sure there’s no one within earshot. “Name’s Kevin Gray.”
It’s one Charon recognizes. “Birchgrove?”
“Damn it, word’s seriously gotten this far?”
Charon shrugs, “J Starr’s been tracking a wayward comet of his, word gets around the Mall fast.”
“He can track me all he damn well likes, I’m out and he’s never gonna catch me. I go by KG in public, though. Ready to head out?” The man says as he retrieves his caps from the counter.
“Yes” Charon replies. This would be interesting.
KG was without a doubt, the tiniest employer to ever hold his contract. Barely reaching 5’ on a good day. Admittedly, having a runaway slave at the helm was...honestly it was refreshing. The man seemed to pick up on his well hidden reactions faster than he could realize he’d done anything in the first place.
It had been months that they’d been traveling together. Months of quiet understanding from a rowdy smoothskin. It was fucking with his “Don’t get attached to employers” rule. They traveled far and wide. It made sense. KG was on the run after all. They were more than used to each other. They spent many nights back to back, unable to find a safe place to crash. They shared meals, even when the supplies ran low, he insisted that Charon ate too.
It was easy to get along with him. Charon was surprised, Normally he disliked flamboyant employers. But when it got down to brass tacks, KG knew what he was doing. He held his own in a fight, better than many of his former employers. He wasn’t good with a gun, but he know how to take anything that wasn’t nailed down and turn it into a weapon.
So when the man asked to help him shave his hair, and dye it, he complied. His fingers were blue for a week. Seeing the man grinning and twirling made it better though. His nimble frame dancing circles through Underworld was an image that stuck with him.
They’d gotten into a fight with a huge pack of ferals that day and were in desperate need of a bath. By the time they found a tiny bedsit with one, it was long into the night. The woman behind the counter glanced at them suspiciously.
“We’ve only got enough water in the tank for one more bath.” she drawls, scarred eyebrow arching judgmentally.
KG rolls his eyes, “That’s fine. Where’s the tub?”
She hands the key to Charon. It was pretty normal for folks outside of Underworld to assume he was the one calling the shots. He took it, and didn’t bother masking his contempt for the woman.
When the shack door clicked open, he was more than prepared to just wait outside.
“It’s a big tub. We can share.”
“Excuse me?” he questions, unable to hold his tongue.
“We’re both walking health hazards, there’s enough room for us to share. But it’ll be unusable if we take turns. And -” KG continues before Charon can cut in. “No, you can’t just wait, you’ll be drawing deathclaws by morning. C’mon, lock the door behind you.”
Charon had learned by now that he wasn’t meant to take such things as literal order as he had with past contract holders. When he had done this in the past, it made the man extremely uncomfortable. It was the obvious choice, though. So he went in, thumbing the lock shut behind himself.
They maneuver around each other easily, Charon the only one to hesitate before disrobing. A question had been bothering him lately, and as he pulled at the straps of his armor, he felt it was time to ask it.
“Boss, can I ask you something?”
“You always can, Char’.” KG hummed as he drew the bath as hot as it would go, fingers testing the water.
“Why’d you take my contract?”
The reply is so matter of fact that he almost misses the meaning of it. “Because conditioning recognizes conditioning.”
Charon’s face must give him away, because KG gives him a look before elaborating.
“I was part of the sex trade. They have to ‘train’ you to do plenty of things. Like not ripping the dick off the first man that shoves it down your throat-” the man continues as he eases into the water. “The tone of voice to use if they want you to be vocal, how to take it up the ass, how to make people want to buy you for the night just by walking into the room...lots of things like that. If you don’t want to, or you do it wrong, well…” he trails off, turning to shut the tap off, giving a clear view of the countless scars scattered across his back. “You know how it is.”
“Though-” KG adds on, “I’m sure yours was much worse than mine…”
“That doesn’t invalidate your trauma, boss.”
KG blinks up at him, struck by this, watching as Charon finally settles in the bath as well. “Most would say it does.”
“Most folks don’t have context.” The moment is interrupted as the water overflows, splattering on the cold floorboards. Charon stares at the collar and thin necklace (his former owner had a habit of using these for symbolic purposes. They were easy to break so it showed how “well behaved” his slaves were.) strung about his neck. The ghoul’s hand twitches. “Might get better if we dealt with those collars.”
It was like a mini-nuke went off. The human practically launched backwards, ass sliding over the rim of the tub, causing him to topple over and land with a wet slap. Charon immediately moves to assist, head throbbing from (inadvertently) causing pain of any sort.
“No! No, nono, no!” KG shouts, clutching at his chest voice strained fearfully. His eyes had this wild panic in them, searching for an escape route. Seeing him afraid felt alien to the ghoul.
“You said it was deactivated, it can’t blow up anymore?” He offers carefully, trying to help KG to his feet, only for the man to jerk away from him.
“ Yes it’s deactivated, no I can’t take it off!”
Charon reaches out, fingertips barely ghosting over the metal, “I can do it.”
“Charon, don’t you dare touch it!” he shouts before freezing.
KG never gave him orders. Nothing beyond directing him in battles. He’d made it clear that the concept sickened him. Judging by his face, it still did.
“Ch-Charon, wait I’m sorry.” The human was shaking, his voice unsteady. Charon’s skin was crawling.
The ghoul shakes his head. “I overstepped my boundaries.” he rattles off the old lines without stumbling. The words leave a rotten taste in his mouth. “My actions, while inexcusable will no-” Charon’s throat seizes when he dares to look at KG. Tears were welling up in those brown eyes. Fuck. He forces himself to keep going. “-will not happen again. If desired, acceptable punishm-”
“C-Charon y-”
“-ents include: Ordering silence, verbal reprimands, minor and/or indirect physical punishment, or-” the final part sticks to his tongue like broken glass. He can’t look at the smoothskin again. “Or choosing to break the contract. You-”
There’s a hand on his arm but he has to finish the speech.
“You can chose to sell it, trade it, auction it, or break it with extreme physical violence.”
It feels like his bones are aching. Of all the ways he’d ended a contract, this would be the most idiotic. Damn it all, why did this have to happen? It was karma, he thinks. Of course he’d get fucked over when he actually got a good owner. Fuck. He didn’t want to leave this time. He wanted to keep KG safe. Shame and fear tore at him. He was stupid for being so forward with his actions. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“-on! CHARON!” Startles him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks to KG. “Listen to me!”
The ghoul nods slightly, bracing himself.
“I’m not going to punish you.” The hands gripping Charon’s arm shake. “Your actions are not just excusable, they’re entirely understandable .” KG stresses, eyes flicking around, trying to read his bodyguard’s face. “You’re not the first one to offer me that...I’m sorry it’s just-” he swallows “...the most painful lessons stay with you the longest.”
Charon suddenly understood it clearly now. Gods he was thick sometimes. KG had literally just said he’d been through a form of conditioning. His trainer must have had enough foresight to not trust the collars with no backup in place. It’s easier to find a runaway if they couldn’t take them off, even if they were broken. He’d triggered an ingrained reaction by not only suggesting removal, he went so far as to touch one of them.
“It was still wrong of me.” he says firmly. “Punishment is well within your rights.”
“You’re making it sound like you want to be punished.”
Charon is still, jaw clenched tightly.
“...do you want the contract broken?”
“ No. ” he flinches, head throbbing before he adds, “I mean- my wants are irrelevant. It is up to the contract holder.”
“The only reason you are still bound to say that to me is because I can’t work out how to free you from it.” The words hang heavy in the air.
Charon remains quiet, watching as emotions flit over KG’s face.
“One day, I will. One day, you will have the right to decide where you go and who you go with. Until then, remember this.” he pauses.
“There is nothing you have done, or will do, to punish.” his voice is hard. “We’re both going to have these sorts of things happen. We’ll need to support each other to the best of our abilities. The whole world is against us here. I need you to believe me when I say that I vow to make this right. To free us both...okay?”
“...okay.”
“News time, children! Now, I know I mentioned that ol’ Three Dog here found a new pal. That little guy I’ve been all vague about- you know the one. That’s ‘cause he’s got some mean motherfuckers after him. So that means that if lil’ ol’ me wants to talk about him (and you know I do) I gotta set this cat up with a name to use. He’s been doing some seriously good shit to fight the good fight you all need to hear about. I had a short “chat” with his traveling buddy, who must also remain anonymous. He let me in on a couple of ideas. Sooo, let me go ahead and blow your minds with a story about The Vow, and how he plans on dismantling Paradise Falls.”
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genzelda · 8 years ago
Text
Illness
So I was inspired by @bun-bunmuse‘s fic she wrote on Mr. G and decided to write my own reverse take on it. Only problem is... I went over board on it... as usual...  
So please take your time to read the fic as I tried my best to write from Sasster’s perspective. I’m not very good at writing another’s muse so please keep this in mind. If anything is ooc for Sasster, please let know mother @stealthnerd. I enjoyed writing this but was terrified of posting it. This is way out of my comfort zone so hopefully this pays off... 
It had been several months since the strange wolf girl had been living in the underground with the Royal Scientist and his two brother. From the moment he saw her, he knew something was different about her. Not just in her appearance alone. Sure, she looked like a human with wolf ears and a fluffy tail attached to her, that was strange in itself alone. What really caught his eye was her soul...
The size of her soul was small compared to the human souls he's encountered, but that wasn't what stood out the most to him. Her soul was fractured, cracked, something he had never seen or even believed was possible for a human-like soul. You see, her's wasn't 100% human. It was only half. The other half was monster which of course peaked the ghoul's interest in her. It was upright like a human's, however the color of the soul was a faded greenish blue, an obvious mix of two of the seven human soul traits; KINDNESS and INTEGRITY.
If it wasn't for the fact that he listened to his consciousness most of the time, he would of gladly experimented on her to figure out how this was even possible. He would've been lying to himself if he said the thought had never crossed his mind. On the other hand, he could very well deny ever thinking of doing such a horrible thing to her since she was practically family now. Actually, she was more than family to him. She was in a relationship with the Royal Scientist, she was his girl friend.
How this came to be is still a mystery to them and everyone else. Sasster had a reputation anyone in their right mind would label as undateable. He was rude half, if not most of the time, had an ego that transcends time and space, arrogance reincarnated, and the sassiest and most sarcastic monster you'd ever meet. You'd be nuts to think he was anything close to boy friend material and yet here he was, in a close relationship with this small wolf girl. Just like any relationship though, it wasn't perfect. Not in the least.
Fear had crept it's way into the ghoul's withered heart. He kept trying to find every reason to push her away. He knew very well it was hurting her and in all honesty he hated seeing her hurt by his own actions. However, in his mind, he felt it was the best thing for them or to be more accurate, for himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. He trusted her just as much as he trusted his brothers. It was the fear of her learning about his dark secrets that was causing him to push her away. If she ever caught wind of some of the things he'd done in his past, he was sure it would only lead to double heartbreak for the both of them.
You might be thinking “if he really trusted her, he would trust she wouldn't judge him for his past actions. Their in the past for a reason. He's not the same person he was back then.” and you would be correct. Fear is a strong negative trait that, once it settles itself in the heart, it only grows more and more with each passing moment. The only thing stronger then fear is love... and that was the very thing he was lacking..
“I don't understand. Why is she still pushing back?” Sasster thought to himself as he made his way through the snow to the front door. He had just returned from the laboratory after spending the whole day there trying to ignore these thoughts he had kept in the back of his mind.
“I mean, for someone who doesn’t even have perseverance as a soul trait, she’s being overly stubborn with me. It’s unheard of to be dealing with this level of stubbornness!” he grumbled to himself, reaching for the door knob. Maybe if he had done this when she was still a shy, nervous wreck, he wouldn't be dealing with this.
The ghoul's hand stiffen to a pause as the thought crossed his mind. No... if he had done it then, she most likely would've broken down into tears and-... He quickly shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. He didn't want to think about what she could have done... He knew exactly what she would have done. That didn't make it any less painful for him to recall.
It took him a few moments to recollect himself from his thoughts before proceeding to open the door. He was a bit surprised to be met with silence when he entered the house, as he was usually greeted by the little wolf girl. Maybe she finally got the message and was sulking in his room somewhere? Hopefully that was the case. The ghoul monster let out a sigh of relief as he walked inside. Finally, he could rest easy on his thoughts. Things won't be the same between them but at least she would still be around. That's all that mattered to him.
However, there was this feeling of dread he couldn't shake from his soul. Something wasn't right. It was too quiet. Not that he didn't mind it being quiet. It was just... odd for it to be this quiet at this hour. Something was telling him to check the living room...
When he turned to face the entrance of the room, Sasster immediately felt his soul drop within himself. Lying in the middle of the floor, passed out and unmoving, was the wolf girl herself.
“G-Gen?!”
Sasster cried as he rushed over to the small girl, kneeling down beside her. He was in shock. What happened to her? Why was she passed out on the floor? She was fine this morning! ...Aside from her making a comment about feeling unsteady and weak, claiming she was just tired. His glowing purple eyes widened in realization as he stared down in horror. Quickly but gently he scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. She was warm. Too warm. Almost burning. A sinking feeling suddenly came over him. He knew what was wrong with her... and it terrified him.
“so... any idea what it could be?” Sans asked his older as he watched the ghoul tuck the small girl into his bed.
“Pneumonia... She has Pneumonia.” Sasster answered after a long pause of silence. This wasn't the first time Gen had been sick. When he first took her in from finding her in the snow, she was suffering from a minor cold. A few coughs here and there with a runny nose. Nothing serious. She got over it real quick after being fed some warm food and drink. By day 3 she was all better.
This was different though. She wasn't just sick, she was sick with what humans call Pneumonia. This may not cause alarm to most humans in this day and age since the advancement of medical science has made such illnesses like this easily treatable. But for a society of monsters who don't catch the same illnesses humans do, it's much more challenging caring for a human suffering from one. Especially with limited resources and knowledge of these illnesses. He would have to care for her personally if he wanted her to recover. There was a high chance she wouldn't make it if he didn't. That was the last thing he wanted... A repeat from his past.
“that explains the coughing early today. she started up as soon as you left for work. said it was nothing to worry about. shouldn't of trusted her word. Now she's worse off then before.” Sans said as he looked up at his tall ghoul brother. He could sense his brother was extremely anxious.  Although Dings may not express his emotions as well as most, there were always little hints in his body language would drop. Having been raised by his older brother, Sans learned how to identify these 'signals'. He was always aware of how his brother was feeling, even when he tried to hide it from him.
He noticed Dings' right eye was glowing more intensely then normal as he gazed down the young girl. That wasn't a good sign. His right eye would only glow whenever he felt high levels of emotions, especially when he was surprised or excited. This time, it was glowing more intensely then normal. He would have to be careful with his wording if he wanted to put Dings' nerves at ease...
“Sans...”
“hm?”
“...Inform King Asgore I'll be taking a leave of absence for a few weeks. I am uncertain for how long. I estimate about 2 or 3 weeks. Tell him something 'showed up' at home and I need to take a few weeks off. I will not make further contact with anyone until then.”
“are you sure about this, dings? i mean, we're so close to reaching a breakthrough. you said so yourself. do you really think it's wise to stop now?”
“If we continue to focus on the experiment while she's this ill, she will have little chance of surviving. As much as I want to go through with the project, I can not risk her well being over it. She may suffer from permanent damage to her health or worse, she may die from poor health...”
Sasster let a deep sigh escape him as he finished. He wasn't going to take risks when it came to her. It would be irresponsible of him to even try to when she still had that nasty fracture in her soul. That will be something he'll need to fix immediately, once this was over. For too long he's put off trying to find ways to heal it without accidentally shattering her soul in the process. He probably would have continued to put it off, if not for this illness reminding him of her soul's condition.
“dings, i know what you're thinking.” Sans replied as he shortcutted to the doorway, standing between it. “you gotta stay positive when in this kind of situation. as long as she's in your care, she will get better.” When Sasster didn't reply, he knew to drop the subject. His brother was no longer interested in continuing the conversation. Besides, Sans had to deliver that message to the king. He could be lazy and call the king but he knew it would be better to do it in person.
“...i'll, uh, go tell king fluffybuns you'll be taking a little vacation. what should we tell Papy when he gets home?”
“Tell him Gen is very sick and I'll be caring for her myself. If he wishes to help, he can assist me in cooking her meals. He is not to disturb her in any way. She needs to rest as much as possible.”
“you got it dings. i'll be back in a yiffy.”
With a wink and that ever present grin of his, Sans teleported away, leaving his older brother alone with the sick girl. Sasster couldn't help himself from groaning at Sans awful pun. He still managed to make dumb puns despite the seriousness of the situation. And why did it matter to him how he felt over this? What he felt or thought did not matter at the moment. Restoring Gen to her full health was what mattered and that was precisely what he was going to focus on. He wasn't going to have a repeat of what happened to his friend long ago. Not after spending years and years of his time studying to prevent it from ever happening again.
“I promise I'll take care of you. I won't be as arrogant and naive with you as I was with them"
Two weeks pass and Gen wasn't any better than she was two weeks before. Her condition was getting worse with no signs of any recovery. At this point, the scientist was at his wits end. Why wasn't she getting better? Why was she only getting worse? He had been taking care of her exactly like he studied. He knew how to care for this illness, along with many others. So why wasn't she recovering? It wasn't adding up...
“She's not getting any better, Sans!” Sasster exclaimed as her sat on the couch, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. “I don't know that I'm doing wrong. She should be fine but she's only getting worse with each passing day. If this keeps up she'll...-”
“dings, you gotta calm yourself. there's still time to help her.”
“I-I know I just-I'm worried she's not going to make it...”
“dings...”
“I can't sleep. I end up watching her all night, keeping an eye on her. Always checking to make sure she's still breathing...” He felt his emotions stirring deep inside himself as his mind swarmed with negativity. Just last night he laid down next to her and held her close to himself... something he never thought he'd do with anyone willingly, even if it was a close family member. He normally didn't like physical contact and yet he found himself craving it from her... He missed when she would ask to cuddle with him. He missed hearing her voice, seeing her smile... He missed everything about her. He just wanted her to get better...
“dings... has it ever crossed your mind that she doesn't want to get better?”
“What in Asgore's name are you talking about? Why wouldn't she want to get better???”
“because she knows you're going to continue pushing her away and she doesn't want to wake up to that reality. what else could be the reason be? you've been trying so hard to undo the bond you've made with her despite how close you've grown to her. You don't think that would effect someone's will to live? especially someone like her who's been nothing but pushed away by her own family?”
Sasster couldn't find the words to respond. True, it wouldn't be unlike her to respond in such a drastic way... She did have a painful and inhumane life on the surface. The ones she called “mom and dad” did nothing but abuse her after turning 14. She still believes she was a horrible daughter to them and deserved the scars embedded into her back and stomach. A low growl rumbled deep in the ghoul's chest as he remembered looking over them... They looked as if a large animal swiped their claws over her back and stomach. Not enough to cause serious injury but enough to leave a scar. The idea of her own parents abusing her in such a horrific way made his blood boil. 
Wait, why was he even thinking about this? That wasn't the point. The point was Sans was right. Gen wasn't getting better because she didn't want to... She most likely felt it would be better to pass away then to live like their relationship never was. As much as his ego and pride was screaming at him to deny these assumptions, he couldn't bring himself to. He made a mistake. He let his fears and insecurities come between their relationship and now they were both suffering from it as a result. He knew what he had to do. He only prayed it wasn't too late...
Sasster didn't have to say a word to Sans as he got up from the couch and headed towards the steps. Sans understood right away what he was doing. Dings may be an asshole, but he can also admit when he's made a mistake, when it counts at least. This being one of those times.
“good luck, dings. you're going to need it.”
She looked even worse than she did a few hours ago! All color in her skin was drained to a ghost white and her body was sweating up a storm. The sight of her twisted his heart in ways he could not comprehend. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd share such feeling for someone... He always thought he was content with having his brothers' company until she came along.  She was part of his family, his life. She was everything to him... He could see that now.
As he approached the bedside, the ghoul monster began to feel a strong urge to lay down with the wolf girl. Carefully, he positioned himself over top of her and laid down, resting his against her chest as he dug his arms under her small body. Gen's breaths were heavy and weak to his non existent ears. Even her heart beat didn't sound any better. If she really was to pass away this very night, he would stay with her till the end. But not before he said a few things to her...
“...I'm... I'm sorry Gen. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I know now that's why you aren't getting better. Maybe you aren't even aware you're doing this to yourself... I shouldn't of done that to you. I shouldn't of given into my fears. I made a huge mistake and I regret every moment of it.”
Hot tears slowly began to run down his pale white face as he laid there with her. He wasn't ready to lose her. Not like this. She meant too much to him. He... He loved her. He loved her with all his heart, all his soul. He wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to say good bye...
“I... I love you, Gen. Please don't leave me like this...”
The ghoul monster ended up falling asleep on top of the small wolf girl, his head still resting gently on her chest. After so many sleepless nights trying to care for her, he finally pass out from the extra stress he went through that night. He was out cold. What a surprise it was for Gen when she opened her eyes to find his head over her chest. He looked completely exhausted. How long had he been there? And more importantly, how long had she been out? She remembered being really sick for a few days, watching Sasster as he cared for her. Then one day she felt really depressed and decided to try to sleep it off... She must have been extremely sick because she never woke up exactly after that. She had faint memories of waking up to be feed but that was it. There was nothing else to recall.
She didn't really care about any of that though at the moment. All she cared about was right in front of her. He looked so cute sleeping on top of her like this. He must have been really worried about her...
“You don't need to worry about me anymore, Gaster. I'm feeling much better now.  You'll see... Once you wake up that is. Hee hee~.” she said as she placed a kiss oh his forehead, snuggling her head against his like a wolf does with its pack.
“Oh and for the record... I knew you loved me before you even admitted it to me in my dreams. That's why I was being stubborn with you. Cause you're so emotionally constipated, you can't even tell when you're in love with someone. But that's okay. You're lucky I've learned to read you just as well as your brothers. You probably can't hear me but hopefully you do... in your dreams. Hee hee hee~.”
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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago
Text
a bit about me: 22F; CST timezone; email mostly, gdoc friendly; multi-para, 3rd person writing style; and loves OOC! I love to talk about characters and plots and everything else (memes are great). I’ve made a lot of great friends though roleplaying and would love to make more!
PSA: I can’t write m/m – I fail at it, but as a bi gal m/f and f/f I can do. 99% of my fandom pairings will be m/f. Also not skilled at omegaverse roleplays so that’s not an option atm, sorry!
my thoughts on:  Replies: Currently averaging 1-3 replies a week, 300-500+ words. Sometimes over 1000 when the scene calls for it  Effort: Equal effort please! I love knowing what you have in mind for your side at least, but winging it is fine too. I’m 100% happy to contribute to your plot to so let me know if you want to brainstorm or get stuck! I will do the same.  Character Division: I’m usually pretty gung-ho about juggling characters but I don’t have the skills to play them all, so let’s try to divvy them up a bit!  Age: looking for someone 18+!! I enjoy mature themes. Similarly, I’d like all characters engaged in romantic plots to be of age as well, so even in canon-verse aged up characters are my jam.  Universes: I am mostly looking for fandom OC X CANON roleplays at this time, which will be mentioned below. Usually willing to split roleplays between fandoms for your cravings too!  Genres: I like romance, angst, action, adventure, drama, and slice of life (so long as those other elements are included, straight sol gets boring real fast). Open to others of course! Dark themes are a guilty pleasure, but when done tastefully.  Characterization: In-character characters unless asked otherwise! Love interests are love interests for a reason haha  Misc: DOUBLING IS A MUST FOR FANDOM ROLEPLAYS. I am okay with stacked single-emails, or two separate threads, or whatever! Just must double!!
absolute nos:  Dropping my side completely??? Pls don’t do that unless we talk about it first yall omg///  Bestiality, water sports, bathroom play, incest, P (without) P, pedophilia, vore, torture porn, snuff  Cheat-free zone. Sorry, I can’t do infidelity stuff  Ditch-friendly but would prefer ya didn’t, ya know? Hiatus -friendly tho! Life happens, I get it  Terrible sues. Flaws. Balance. Strength is awesome, but OP is not.
absolute yes!!  Feel free to hit me up to chat! About the roleplay, your life, whatever. IM and emails are totes cool. 6:  I’m always down to write triangles or more! I don’t always ask for them myself depending on the universe/fandom, but I do enjoy writing them!  Let me know if you have specific desires for your love interest/side! I am here to indulge you, if you grant me the same!  I have never done crossovers, but might be interested in trying my hand if that’s something you want. Just talk to me about it!  Please!! Let me!! Know!! Your!! Smut!! Pref!! My smut key is below: Green: fluffy, flowery language; no explicit mention of parts Yellow: euphemisms for parts and actions, moderate description Red: explicit words and description
just fyi: I’m fine with green or above but tend to default yellow if you don’t tell me otherwise. I’m also super okay with red, just want to be considerate of your level of comfort. :)
Cool beans, onto the really good stuff
cravings:  Death Note (Matt Jeevas);  note: I am admittedly getting a little burned out on the canon timeline plot-for-plot, esp if L or Light are the main love interest. I would greatly appreciate an alternate timeline or something to spice it up if that’s what you want to do! / A Beyond Birthday-esque AU plot would be amazing!! Dark, creepy, kidnapping, murder goodness  Wammy Academy  Wammy’s House  Arranged Marriage
 Bleach (Jushiro Ukitake, several other secondary)  Canon verse, canon timeline – alt plot  Canon verse, alt timeline***  arranged marriage plot involved for moi!  Modern AU**
 Naruto: Shippuden (Kiba, several secondary)  Canon verse, alt timeline**  Modern AU  Konoha Academy*****  Marriage (arranged or not)*  Summercamp AU!!****
 Boku no/My Hero Academia (Shouto)  Canon verse, alt timeline**  Alternate Universe
other fandoms I can play for you (for split roleplays)*:  Attack on Titan  Inuyasha  GANGSTA!  Hunter x Hunter  Tokyo Ghoul  Ouran High School Host Club  Full Metal Alchemist  Sailor Moon  Seven Deadly Sins  Black Butler  Superhero/MCU  etc, feel free to ask!
*note: these fandoms I haven’t played before/in a while but am familiar with- So AUs would probably be best in these cases, but totally not required! I am always okay with taking suggestions to brush up/watch other things you might be interested in doing, just let me know. Also feel free to ask about things not on this list!! I will split for these – I write a fandom of choice for you if you write one for me!
contact me: Thanks for reading so far! If you think you might be interested in roleplaying with me, please drop me a line at: [email protected] . I would love to hear from you! Please include the following items in your email!:  Your name/nickname/penname (whatever you want me to call you)  Your age/age range (18+, 21+ is fine)  What you’re interested in playing & love interest  Your deal breakers! Things you are absolutely inflexible on so we know if we’ll be compatible.  *cough* your smut color *cough*  If your feeling generous, your fav song or show or movie! I love finding some new tunes. 😊  Whatever else you’d like to include, it’s your world man I hope to hear from you lovely bugs soon!
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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago
Text
seeking fandom, oc x canon roleplays
a bit about me:
    22F; CST timezone; email mostly, gdoc friendly; multi-para, 3rd person writing style; and loves OOC! I love to talk about characters and plots and everything else (memes are great). I’ve made a lot of great friends though roleplaying and would love to make more!  
  PSA: I can’t write m/m – I fail at it, but as a bi gal m/f and f/f I can do. 99% of my fandom pairings will be m/f. Also not skilled at omegaverse roleplays so that’s not an option atm, sorry!
   my thoughts on:
©        Replies: Currently averaging 1-3 replies a week, 300-500+ words. Sometimes over 1000 when the scene calls for it
©        Effort: Equal effort please! I love knowing what you have in mind for your side at least, but winging it is fine too. I’m 100% happy to contribute to your plot to so let me know if you want to brainstorm or get stuck! I will do the same.
©        Character Division: I’m usually pretty gung-ho about juggling characters but I don’t have the skills to play them all, so let’s try to divvy them up a bit!
©        Age: looking for someone 18+!! I enjoy mature themes. Similarly, I’d like all characters engaged in romantic plots to be of age as well, so even in canon-verse aged up characters are my jam.
©        Universes: I am mostly looking for fandom OC X CANON roleplays at this time, which will be mentioned below. Usually willing to split roleplays between fandoms for your cravings too!
©        Genres: I like romance, angst, action, adventure, drama, and slice of life (so long as those other elements are included, straight sol gets boring real fast). Open to others of course! Dark themes are a guilty pleasure, but when done tastefully.
©        Characterization: In-character characters unless asked otherwise! Love interests are love interests for a reason haha
©        Misc: DOUBLING IS A MUST FOR FANDOM ROLEPLAYS. I am okay with stacked single-emails, or two separate threads, or whatever! Just must double!!
   absolute nos:
©        Dropping my side completely???  Pls don’t do that unless we talk about it first yall omg///
©        Bestiality, water sports, bathroom play, incest, P (without) P, pedophilia, vore, torture porn, snuff
©        Cheat-free zone. Sorry, I can’t do infidelity stuff
©        Ditch-friendly but would prefer ya didn’t, ya know? Hiatus -friendly tho! Life happens, I get it
©        Terrible sues. Flaws. Balance. Strength is awesome, but OP is not.
   absolute yes!!
©        Feel free to hit me up to chat! About the roleplay, your life, whatever. IM and emails are totes cool. 6:
©        I’m always down to write triangles or more! I don’t always ask for them myself depending on the universe/fandom, but I do enjoy writing them!
©        Let me know if you have specific desires for your love interest/side! I am here to indulge you, if you grant me the same!
©        I have never done crossovers, but might be interested in trying my hand if that’s something you want. Just talk to me about it!
©        Please!! Let me!! Know!! Your!! Smut!! Pref!! My smut key is below:
Green: fluffy, flowery language; no explicit mention of parts
Yellow: euphemisms for parts and actions, moderate description
Red: explicit words and description
  just fyi: I’m fine with green or above but tend to default yellow if you don’t tell me otherwise. I’m also super okay with red, just want to be considerate of your level of comfort. :)
    Cool beans, onto the really good stuff:
 cravings:
©        Death Note (Matt, some secondary)
Canon verse, alt timeline**
mafia plot involved for my side
I am admittedly getting a little burned out on the canon timeline plot-for-plot, esp if L or Light are the main love interest. I would greatly appreciate an alternate timeline or something to spice it up if that’s what you want to do!
A Beyond Birthday plot would be amazing!! Dark, creepy, kidnapping, murder goodness
Wammy Academy
Wammy’s House
Arranged Marriage
  ©        Bleach (Jushiro Ukitake, several other secondary)
Canon verse, canon timeline – alt plot
Canon verse, alt timeline***
arranged marriage plot involved for moi!
Modern AU***
Mafia/gang
Business/corporate
  ©        Naruto: Shippuden (Kiba, several secondary)
Canon verse, alt timeline**
Modern AU
Mafia/gang
Business/Corporate
Konoha Academy*****
University
Ninja Academy (?)
Marriage (arranged or not)*
Summercamp AU!!****
  ©        Boku no/My Hero Academia (Shouto)
Canon verse, alt timeline**
Alternate Universe
    other fandoms I can play for you (for split roleplays)*:
Attack on Titan
Inuyasha
GANGSTA!
Hunter x Hunter
Tokyo Ghoul
Ouran High School Host Club
Full Metal Alchemist
Sailor Moon
Seven Deadly Sins
Black Butler
Superhero/MCU
etc, feel free to ask!
*note: these fandoms I haven’t played before/in a while but am familiar with- So AUs would probably be best in these cases. I am always okay with taking suggestions to brush up/watch other things you might be interested in doing, Just let me know. Also feel free to ask about things not on this list!! I will split for these – I write a fandom of choice for you if you write one for me!
   a note on originals:
I would love some psych terror/horror, but open to hearing any and all suggestions. I am admittedly particular about originals just because they are very time consuming to create, but come at me with your ideas! I’m into all kinds of things, but I’m a bit cold on originals atm and not accepting many. Zombies are usually intriguing. Similarly dark things are a guilty pleasure, but again, supes picky - sorryyyyyyyyy
  contact me:  
Thanks for reading so far! If you think you might be interested in roleplaying with me, please drop me a line at: [email protected] . I would love to hear from you! Please include the following items in your email!:
Your name/nickname/penname (whatever you want me to call you)
Your age/age range (18+, 21+ is fine)
What you’re interested in playing & love interest
Your deal breakers! Things you are absolutely inflexible on so we know if we’ll be compatible.
*cough* your smut color *cough*
If your feeling generous, your fav song or show or movie! I love finding some new tunes. 😊
Whatever else you’d like to include, it’s your world man
I hope to hear from you lovely bugs soon!
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