#john wick rp

[eternalslover]

WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR KEANU REEVES CHARACTERS IM ACTUALLY GOING BALLISTIC, I WANT HIM SO BAD WOOF WOOF GRRR, GOING ACTUALLY FERAL, PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIM, MATRIX, JOHN WICK, BILL AND TED, CONSTANTINE, MATRIX, MATRIX, MATRIX DID I MENTION MATRIX PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIS CHARACTER FROM THE MATRIX

WHERE DID MY CLOTHING GO?!?! I WANT HIM SO BAD HONESTLY HOW CAN YOU NOT WRITE ABOUT HIM?? ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT ECT ECT BIG ON FLUFF AND ANGST, THERE IS JUST SO MUCH SMUT IN THE WORLD BUT I WILL TAKE ANYTHING

[velvainee]

✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ( dr.wick x reader )

ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. oneshot. In 2236, Dr. John Wick leads "Wick Industries" in human experiments to extend life and youthfulness. But behind the facade of progress, test subjects like you are unknowingly involved, their consent ignored.

୨ৎ warnings. manhandling, non-con, forced relationship, breeding, evil intent, large age gap, p in v, blackmailing, mentions of blood, torture, bdsm, size kink. dead dove. do not eat. 2.6k words.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, this is my first fic on this blog ! please excuse any mistakes and lmk if you like it, reblogs comments & likes are very appreciated! if you have any requests for another fic don’t be afraid to reach out. ( has not been proof read ) !

As you step into the sterile corridors of Wick Industries, the faint hum of machinery fills the air, a constant reminder of the scientific endeavors unfolding within. It's 2236, an era where the boundaries between progress and ethical considerations blur into a murky haze.

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

[alice-of-hightable]

<sighs> I need a hug. Boudreaux is off huntin’ gators for the next week or so, Dad’s still in New York, no idea where J is, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to head to Europe to follow V, sorry, *Marquis* and Señor Chidi around…and it’s probably a bad idea to go pester Akira. The seclusion of the swamps is nice, but it makes it harder to be around people. Even the crows and Missy (the baby gator) are getting antsy without visitors

[aresraspberry]

Instead of hunting excommunicados down, I believe we should instead be bringing back public execution!

[sunlighthelen]

July 21, 2014

John’s been liking the puppy. He seemed pretty reluctant at first, but well, immediately sunk into her just hours later hehe

He went to go out with Daisy while I was dealing with emails, and he returned with toys and necessities for Daisy. How cute! 🐶🌼

[yvettecyrus]

@johnwickcaretaker

✶ Yvette stepped off the plane, the oppressive heat and humidity a stark contrast to the cool, moonlit streets of Paris. She had crossed an ocean to find John, and the mission weighed heavily on her. Chara, her black cat, nestled comfortably in her travel bag, peeked out, her green eyes glinting with curiosity and alertness.

The drive to the woods felt interminable. The city’s chaos faded into memory, replaced by the encroaching silence of the forest. Yvette’s irritation grew with each passing mile. She despised these desolate trees, their barren branches clawing at the sky, a far cry from the urban labyrinth she navigated with ease.

✶ As she parked at the trailhead and began the trek into the forest, Chara leapt from the bag, her sleek form darting ahead, then circling back to stay close. Yvette’s footsteps were nearly silent, a skill honed from centuries of practice, but the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs still grated on her nerves.

“I hate this,” she muttered to Chara, who responded with a soft meow, her tail flicking in agreement. “Why couldn’t he hide somewhere more… civilized?” Chara wrapped her tail around her owners leg in response, just before jumping to her shoulders.

✶ Yvette’s role as a tracker for the Marquis demanded patience and precision, qualities she possessed in abundance. Yet, the forest’s oppressive solitude unnerved her, the silence pressing in, amplifying her thoughts. Gun in hand, she had to remain cautious, not just because of the Marquis’s orders, but also due to the myriad dangers these woods concealed.

[sofiaalazwar]

[She’s basically John’s little sister, for lack of better phrasing. You can decide if Sofia knows her or knows of her. She’s kinda the “Alice” to John’s “Mad Hatter”, so she IS known about just maybe not in person as much. The common info about her is that she’s Winston’s kid, bio or not is not confirmed, she runs The Hallowed Lodge in Louisiana, a rural version of The Continental, she’s just known to be very friendly and sweet, if not a little feral. Her name is Georgia Scott, 24 years old]

“Bonjour, Madame Sofia! John was over there a little while ago, right? How is everything?”

- @alice-of-hightable

Sofia is with her dogs, glancing up at the young woman before her as she finishes talking with some clients inside of the Casablanca continental, now welcoming the stranger.

“You must be…the Alice, am I right?” Her dogs follow her as she stands infront of Alice, her hands behind her back, clasped together, amused that she mentioned John—he must’ve been talking about his recent visit.

The bells on her skirt clang against each other, making a small but pleasant ringing sound that is audible throughout her movements.

[shimazu-akira]

Important Announcement

On the night of 1 June 2015, the Osaka Continental was raided by the @vindegramont's forces. My father, the previous Manager Koji Shimazu, was down in a coma. The doctor said his condition is stable at the moment, but I fear for his life with every second that passes.

All hotel guests have been evacuated prior to this incident, but my staff are low in numbers, so we are in need of manpower. We apologise for the inconvenience and wish all loyal customers to keep yourselves safe and sound.

@jw-adjudicator

[frightmeister]

Right?  How  does  it  feel?  Do  you  enjoy  feeling  terrorized?  Humiliated?  I  mean,  panicked?  All  those  emotions  that  my  sisters  got  to  feel  once  one  year  ago!  Only  guess  what?  They  didn't  get  to  laugh  it  off!  No!  Nope!  No  no  no!  They're  gone!

FRIGHTMEISTER  !  an  independent  &  private  JOSHUA  WASHINGTON  originally  of  Supermassive's  UNTIL  DAWN.  heavily  canon  divergent.  crossover  and  oc  friendly.  a  black  comedy  kinda  vibe.  does  not  fuck  with  the  appropriative  aspects  of  the  franchise.  written  by  train  (they/them  |  30s  |  est)

[wuxiaradio]

We’re back! Hope you missed us, our dear listeners. The Table has forwarded a little message. Mr. Wick is on the run. Message delivered to you from the office of the High Table.

" JOHN WICK "

Age: 45-50

Height: 6’1

Gender: Male

Nationality: American, Belarusian

Affiliations: Winston Scott, The New York Continental, The Bowery King, Sofia Al-Azwar, The Ruska Roma

Last Seen: The New York Continental

Current Denomination: 60,000

[kavalyera]

— JOHN WICK RP ACCOUNTS .

( canon characters ) — cc. 17 🖊

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘

𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐈

𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐃’𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐎

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊

𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐕

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐀𝐍

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓

𝐌𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐃’𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐎

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐙𝐖𝐀𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 ��𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓

𝐖𝐔𝐗𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎

These are the authors who of these blogs (excluding me💀)

@tobytheeggo @babayagaiscomingforya @thewhumpcaretaker @blairwick @professor-sandalo-fakemonblog

— oc list coming soon

[soulacheron]

What new puppy?

[caine-nobody]

Nobody's Secret Diary [Date: 5/18/15]

Bam! A bolt of white lightning flashed across the sky, pitched black and cloudy.

Guanlin Temple, Luoyang, China.

Amid the darkness of night, men in grey suits are tirelessly digging up something from beneath the ground of the temple compound. The Marquis de Gramont, simply and distantly, watches along.

Mr. Nobody quietly observes by the side, his expression not moving an inch while his pet Cerberus loyally guards him. The fact that the human Tracker hasn't spoken out of turn yet shows how much stabbing his hand had worked.

As if on cue, Chidi, the Marquis' trustworthy ghost bodyguard, approaches his superior with a nod and a report: the coffin has finally been raised.

Pak! The coffin that was closed for 1800 years is now opened. Mr. Nobody looks away out of respect (embarrassment) for a second, but soon turns his head back towards the subject in front of them.

This is the corpse of Guan Yu, the famous military general of the Three Kingdoms period, a paradigm of loyalty and righteousness, whose life was lionised and his achievements glorified that he is deified to this day by the Chinese people as "Guan Di" centuries after his death.

Neither the head nor the body look decomposed. In fact, it remained perfectly intact, its entire face notably looking as red as legends say, at least under whatever amount of illumination the storm lightning provides.

If not for the fact that he had been deified and therefore not rot, these are the signs of someone with the potential of turning into a jiangshi.

Mr. Nobody's journal is right, though the Marquis never doubted it, never doubted his many, many notes would be particularly useful for him on such an occasion.

"Perfect." The Marquis de Gramont declares. Then, all of a sudden, the Marquis bends down his body and bites the corpse's exposed neck.

"Sir!" Chidi calls out in concern, but the Marquis ignores him. Biting until he feels blood dripping down its coarse green robes, he pulls back his fangs and waits for a reaction.

The transformation of the corpse is not unlike anything the Marquis has seen before, but it's still a spectacle to watch. Mr. Nobody looks on in horror.

The corpse stands up on its own, its skin turning into a dead greenish-white, its long fingernails turning into claws and it's teeth turning sharp. It opens its eyes for the first time, its pupils showing a bright silver like moonlight.

Guan Yu has been turned into a jiangshi.

Ringing a handbell, the Marquis orders, "Get out of the coffin."

With a giant leap, the jiangshi hops out of the coffin with ease, impressing the Marquis.

"Good! Very good!" The Marquis laughs. He keeps away the handbell, not wanting the jiangshi to move anyway further, then he asks, "Do you remember who you are?"

The Marquis waits, but the jiangshi doesn't answer, doesn't open its mouth to speak. Mr. Nobody doesn't feel obliged to tell him that, but he knows the Marquis is not stupid and quickly figures that out himself.

"Chicken blood." The Marquis orders. Chidi complies.

When the chicken blood is presented, the Marquis opens Mr. Nobody's journal to a page with a spell on it, takes out an empty paper talisman and traces the illegible calligraphy onto the talisman with the blood before placing it onto the jiangshi's forehead.

"Do you remember who you are?" The Marquis asks again.

Five seconds later, "Who am I?" The jiangshi replies, slowly and monotonously.

"I don't know you, but you are mine now."

Mr. Nobody furrows his eyebrows. His pet Cerberus stirs alert and shifts its attention towards the smell of the Marquis and that unfamiliar corpse.

He told the Marquis of the story of the Oath of the Peach Garden, but of course he will always twist anything good into something sinister for his own agenda. Now, he turns the honourable tale of sworn brotherhood into that of betrayal, something similar to the story of Cain and Abel from the Bible.

"I shall name you, Caine."

OOC Author's Note:

This piece is written from Mr. Nobody's POV. All future writings on Caine's RP blog are intended to be from Mr. Nobody's perspective for the "Creature/Mythology AU". Please feel free to tell me any trigger warnings I should put.

Caine in this AU is Guan Yu whose body was turned into a jiangshi, basically a Chinese hopping zompire. Usually, jiangshi are known for wearing a Qing-dynasty court official's attire, but since Guan Yu originated from the Eastern Han dynasty (about 1400+ years earlier), he would be wearing military armour and hanfu of his time, before the Marquis forces him to wear Western suits.

More lore details on Guan Yu and jiangshi will be dropped later down the road. Just know that many creative liberties are taken. I still try to write as culturally accurate as possible.

It is said that there are actually three tombs for Guan Yu in real life: the Luoyang Guanlin Temple (the location mentioned above) where his head is buried, somewhere in Danyang where his body is buried, and a cenotaph in Chengdu. Due to creative liberties I've taken, his entire body is found in Guanlin Temple.

Character inspiration pics below:

[alice-of-hightable]

*crack* *crash* *crack* *crash* *crack* *tink*

*Gigi sighs as she sees where she hit the target, tucking her slingshot back in her pocket and going to set up more bottles and flip the metal target. Her hunting boots squish into the mud from a couple bouts of rain, the first signal that hurricane season has started. The incident with Nickandr still flashing in her mind, the tiny bit of glee from not being scolded, the terror when Jardani lost consciousness. She thought he was gonna die. She doesn’t even remember the fanboat ride or even patching him up, just remembering when he woke up…then he left. Couldn’t even bother to tell her to her face and left a note instead*

“Boudreaux says you comin’ back. Let’s hope you is” *she mutters under her breath before returning to her target practice*

[aresraspberry]

Any more opinions, Ares?

I think the best way to determine good bodyguards is to have them go through a fake attack on the guarded person with fake bullets to see who is loyal enough!

Which reminds me I got shot at by real bullets but now I have amazing pay :P

[lost-admiration]

Hey, Señor Chidi! And, um, Chidi’s sister. I’m sending some food from the hurricane survival party to you guys!

Got some fried yuca, some tamales, some gumbo and cornbread, and some fried alligator!

Oh, and fried chicken, just in case you don’t like the alligator. Also sending some crawfish.

@alice-of-hightable

I’ve never seen you before?

Plus, tamales are more popular in México..

(Edit) Maybe you’re getting confused with Humitas? Which is the Chile equivalent

- Julia