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myfandomrealitea · 6 months ago

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I very vividly remember in 2020, being told by this one person who began controlling our fandom rp server, that we had to turn our rp blogs into places where we had to reblog every horrific thing happening during blm. and that he "better not catch us trying to rp". he also was against tagging it because then "white people would ignore it". i remember forcing myself to watch videos of police brutalizing black men and women, real people dying in the streets, and trying to convince myself that if I looked away, I was part of the problem. He'd also convinced me that I lucked out in getting my job, only because I was white, and that I was taking this job from a much more qualified black person. the only reason i got away from him is because I started feeling like i should kill myself, because one less whitey. and that was when i snapped to attention and did whatever i could to get out of there, even though it cost me my reputation being slandered by him.

it's been 4 years, and I'm doing my best to heal, but apparently he's still at it. pulling this same kind of controlling bs that I'm seeing echoed in some of those reblogs.

don't traumatize yourself for the sake of proving you're a good person.

Please feel free to name and shame. That kind of behavior is abusive, predatory and could very well drive someone to kill themselves as you almost did. Him continuing to have a platform and unchallenged reach is outright dangerous.

If you are ever in a situation like this, please, clock the early signs and leave. Your health and wellbeing are far more important than your forced activism. If someone is ever:

Making you feel guilty over something like not reblogging a post, being a certain ethnicity/gender/race/sexuality.

Accusing you of contributing to or being the core problem in a much, much broader issue.

Trying to manipulate you and others by "tattling" on you for not doing something or not doing enough.

Threatening you in order to pressure you into doing things.

Screenshot all of the conversations, block them, and leave.

Things like this are why I will always give call out posts which do not contain blatant and corroborating evidence the benefit of the doubt. Its all too easy for people to join in almost automatically on dogpiles against people being accused of something like being racist or being passive/dismissive about world events.

(E.g; in the 911 fandom literal Latino artists and authors were being harassed over being "racist" re; their depictions of Eddie Diaz only for the people dogpiling them to scramble to retract and apologise once they realized the person wasn't actually an Evil Terrible White Person.)

I'm so proud of you for having the courage to get yourself away from your abuser.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #fandom #proship #reality #proshipping #world issues #justice #social justice #tw: abuse #tw: emotional abuse #911 #eddie diaz mention #tw: racism mention #human rights

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scnsuality · 5 months ago

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@alphamales-rp gets a starter!

Tommy' hair was quite a mess, a sign of just how unexpected the ringing of the doorbell had come and disrupted him from the late afternoon nap he'd treated himself to. Grabbing the loose-fitted shirt he'd discarded earlier, he put it back on as he walked to the door with a yawn, barefoot and without any sense of urgency. He truly wasn't expecting any visitors, so he had no clue what to expect when he opened the door. However, the face he was presented with was more than just a surprise - it was a sight that immediately got him wide awake, eyes widening as he stared into the face of a man he'd not seen for five years. A face he had in no way forgotten, however. It haunted Tommy both in his wet dreams and his nightmares, and in all honesty, most nights those two were difficult to tell apart.

Back then, he'd been a different person. Growing up in a dysfunctional household had not set Tommy up for a successful life, and he showed no hesitation to follow his destiny of getting in with the wrong crowd, spiraling into reckless and eventually criminal behavior. He wasn't much more than a street punk, of course, even though he'd thought of himself as a big fish. Well, his misdeeds had been severe enough to get him sentenced to prison time - in large parts due to his lack of remorse and the willingness to take the fall for some larger crimes he had not actually partaken in. He was a wannabe, a naive rookie thinking he was the shit - at least until the moment he met his cellmate. It didn't take long for Tommy to be faced with the reality of prison and the fact that he was in way over his head; jail was full of real criminals, men much larger and with much fewer qualms than him. The man he shared a cell with - the man right outside his doorstep in this very moment - had been both his savior and his bane. None of the brutal thugs in prison dared touching Tommy, and those who tried usually didn't get to try it again - but being left in peace by them came at a cost. Everyone in the place knew it, prisoner and guard alike: Tommy was claimed goods. A possession. And nobody with a functional sense of survival dared to cross the man who owned him.

"W-What are you doing here?" Tommy heard his own voice shaking, his pulse racing as he looked into the eyes of his former cellmate. His own release had been five years ago now; being thrown back into society had been admittedly disorienting at first, as he'd spent the entire time behind bars without truly making a decision of his own. He would sleep, eat, and get fucked whenever he was told to. Having his freedom back was a relief in part, but at the same time, strangely foreign. It took a while to adapt; nowadays, Tommy rarely spoke about what his time in jail had been like. The man he was living with now was lovely; sometimes, when the other gently caressed him in bed at night, Tommy would think back to the nights in his cell, to the hand pressed against his mouth to keep him quiet, or choking him into submission. Was it awful that sometimes he thought back to those moments fondly? And that he kept them all a secret from the people who were in his life now? "When did you get out?", he asked quietly, shaking himself back into the present to confront this specter of his past.

#alphamalesrp

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hotheadedheroprimary · 1 year ago

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I had the craziest angst dream last night

It was based on an RP my bestie and I had been working on but, man, my brain knows how to toy with my feelings. Words cannot express how I felt after having this dream, my heart was racing. (Will do this in the form of x reader coz damn)

That day was a tragedy, a devastation to yourself and everyone who knew you. No one could have foreseen such a thing and, yet, a heavy blame was taken upon the two men who had cared for you most. You were all fresh into beginning your careers as heroes, barely a year out of graduation, and it didn't last long for you. Somehow, a group of especially dangerous villains had managed to get the jump on you. They beat you to a pulp and took you into capture, falling out of the radar and becoming completely invisible to anyone who may have had a chance to save you.

You were held in captivity for almost two years. Two years. They tormented and verbally degraded you to no end. To say it was torture was an understatement. You may as well have been crucified and left to hang amongst the vultures awaiting the sweet, bitter end to life. Unfortunately, these monsters were not merciful creatures. At first, they attempted to coax information out of you, seeing if they could unlock all of the inner workings of the pro heroes and utilise this for their nefarious deeds. When it became clear that you weren't so easily broken, they decided that you would make a decent venting dolly. You sought to escape once.

"That was a big mistake... hero."

Due to your weakened state, they quite easily recaptured you and they were not happy. They could have just killed you. Part of you wishes they did. No. Instead, they opted for a more fitting punishment: they took away your quirk. More ridicule and abuse is all that followed, is all you had to keep your wavering sanity occupied.

You felt close to your end.

An eventual rescue tore you away from your imprisonment but at what cost? You couldn't even discern the reality from a nightmare at that point. Your saviours, some heroes on the other side of the country, made sure that you were immediately admitted to a hospital. The physical wounds were in need of major attention but the mental scars ran so much deeper.

It probably would have been easy enough to call all of your friends, to ask for help from a familiar face, but a chain would heavy your hand any time you'd reach for the phone. You couldn't even bring yourself to call your two favourite boys.

With months of gruelling therapy out of the way, you now have a home - a new home - that you can call yours and a typical civilian job to keep the money coming in. You may be somewhat established back into society but you are merely a shell of what once was, a sauntering after image of the person you used to be. It had taken countless sessions just to counter your agoraphobia but a slithery vine is quick to entangle your spine any time you choose to leave your home. The darned thing clenches and digs its thorns in, threatening to jolt your head into a spasm but you always fight the urge.

That day wasn't much different. To begin with, at least.

After your usual mental prepping and throwing your cap on, you take the leap of faith from your doorstep and trudge along for your weekly grocery run. All in all, it seemed it was going to be fairly standard; weave in and out of people, make no eye contact, get the goods, and go home. It wasn't like it was late on your way back either but, with the winter season, that night was soon rolling in. You notice another set of footsteps trailing behind you, which certainly isn't helping. It could just be that pesky paranoia settling in but this person has been hot on your tail for a few minutes now. Still having some streets to go, you curse your blunder in not choosing a location more in-city. In an attempt to get home faster without displaying your fear, you ever so slightly pick up the pace. The individual appears to do the same and you are ready to run. The muscles in your calves tighten in anticipation of a quick escape.

That's when it happened: a chance encounter that reduced you to tears.

"Hey!" an all-too-familiar voice beckons from behind you.

Anxiety prickles your skin for different reasons than before. There's no way it's him. Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

The great hero Dynamight had been making his rounds in the city, keeping an astute eye out for anything amiss but also for you. It may seem outlandish for him to still be looking for you after almost three years but this is Bakugo. He's not one to give up. That's probably why he's grown more calloused in this time. He hasn’t been able to heal. To move on. The night still haunts him though he never lets that show. His cold heart had grown even heavier and colder since that day. He barely says a word - more so than usual. The man eats at himself over the whole situation. What could he have done differently? Is there actually anything he could have actually done? If he can’t even save a comrade, a person he cares so deeply about, is he even worthy of the title of hero? Perhaps that is another driving force to keep searching for you. It may seem crazy but at least he hasn't lost his hope. Not like they did. How could they all just assume you dead like that? How could they give up on a friend? A fellow pro hero? Not him. Not ever and nor Kirishima. That redhead, as much of an idiot as he may be, is the only one who stuck by Bakugo's headstrong tenacity over the years. He shakes the thoughts from his head for about the umpteenth time just that day alone.

It seemed as though it would be another afternoon of quiet. One might say that's a nice change of pace but some individuals like to be kept busy. Bakugo stopped for one of his annoying fans when he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It almost looked like... no. It couldn't be. Wait... is it? His gaze has never once failed him before. The calls of the young boy were lost to him, his feet moved without his consent. He'd recognise that stupid hat anywhere. It wasn't even a matter of questioning the legitimacy before he was practically tailgating the unsuspecting individual. It didn't take long until it was just the two of them walking along the darkening street. His heart hasn’t beat this hard since that terrible day. He shakes his head, almost grows angry. What if it is you? What will he do? A deep breath. Just keep focusing on the task at hand - one that seems to be slipping from him the longer this cat-and-mouse chase drags out. His tracks aren't exactly subtle given how the freshly falling snow crunches and groans beneath his weight. The speed picks up and he knows he has to say something before his "prey" runs off. He has opened and closed his mouth several times to speak up to her but he backs out every time. Goddamnit Bakugo just say something. He growls to himself and closes his eyes. His fists clench beneath his gauntlets. He can’t believe he is about to do this. He must be crazy.

Finally, somehow managing to find his own voice, he calls out. "Hey!"

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to call out that name in case his assumption was wrong. The figure stops and slowly turns around to face him. Bakugo stares a moment longer before slowly walking over to get a closer look. His heart punches against his ribcage when he's no more than a meter in front of that familiar face. There have been some changes, of course, but he would recognise those eyes anywhere - your eyes. He looks back and forth between them before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on her shoulder, an action that is hesitant but proves the reality of your existence at this moment. All he can do is keep his eyes closed as everything tries to catch up to him. Eventually, he takes in a deep sigh and slowly looks up at you. His expression holds a mixture of sad and relived and some exhaustion like he just got done with a war.

"How long, (Y/n)?"

At first, you haven't a clue what he's talking about until it hits you like a steel pipe to the cheek. You had gotten so caught up in the situation, Katsuki Bakugo slowly trailing towards you with an unease you had never witnessed in him before. Not like this. A million and one thoughts spurry around your head but, at the same time, you are also completely blank. Crimson eyes pierce right into your soul, attempting to coerce your tongue for the words but still nothing. You can't help the nausea in your stomach when it dawns on you just how mad he may get. You already envision the blade of his teeth slicing through you.

"They... I was discharged from a hospital in Hachinohe almost... almost four months ago."

It all comes down on him like a sack of bricks. Understandably, he is pissed - unequivocally burning in damnation of the truth that you are alive and have been roaming the streets for so many months and against his knowledge no less. It doesn't matter if he had been in the middle of a battle; he would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Growing more painful, he rubs at the migraine pounding against his temples. He wipes his forehead as if making up for the fact that there are no tears to dry. He doesn't know how to cry right now. The pressure and strain amidst his palms shake his nerves to no end.

"And you didn't call?!" he screams over his crackling throat. "I would have come for you! We would have come for you!"

How could you call? You were so sure that everyone was better off without you, that you weren't needed in their lives. By the time you had been freed, everyone had become more well-established heroes in society. They don't need you. They moved on. That's how you thought of it, at least. Your attempted explanation of this only angers him further but he breathes past the frustration when he realises how worked up you're getting. What happened to you for you to think such awful things?

"I'm not sure where you got this narrative of not being needed," he sighs and looks away. "Do you have any idea what it has been like without you, dumbass?"

The old nickname slips off his tongue so naturally. He'd always call everyone an idiot, stupid, nerd ironically enough, but dumbass? That was reserved for you and for you only, so for it to be said - to be heard - after two years breaks you.

It had been quite a sight, watching you crumble down to the snow-covered floor. He had knelt down, waiting for you to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again. As cohesive as you could against the waves of rainfall spilling from your face, anyway. When things had eventually calmed, he took you back to your apartment and gave you the chance to speak. You managed to tell him little about what you had been through. Each sentence dwindled beneath the weighing sickness that bubbled in your throat any time you tried to get into detail. One thing really stood out to Bakugo, however. He envisioned the mass murder of those bastards for having done this to you, for rendering you quirkless and making you believe such self-deprecating lies.

That was two days ago. Bakugo insisted on you staying around his just to keep an eye on you. You know better than to refuse his help and it's for his own piece of mind as well as yours. He even took the liberty of calling off work for the rest of the week just to make sure you're okay. He never does that, which is probably why a certain redhead is standing at his door, wide-eyed, gawking at you. Once he had caught wind of Bakugo's absence at the agency, he raced over to make sure everything was okay. He could have never anticipated seeing you. The two of you stare at one another, unable to say anything. You take a stand and open your mouth to say something, anything, but the wind is pushed from your lungs when Kirishima gulps you up into his arms. He cries. God, this man cries and sobs with no yield as he just holds you. Restraints don't appear to exist anymore and you spill again, clutching onto him with unceremonious content. He doesn't ask any questions and just weeps into your shoulder, fearing the worst if he were to let go.

Everyone else had assumed you were dead. Why wouldn't they? After two, almost three, years, why would you believe a person to still be alive? Not them. They kept looking, searching, and scouring every last mineral in this damn country to try and find you. Now they have you back in their lives? They swear by All-Might that you will be waited on, pampered, loved, and cared for until they see the remnants of your old self again. It will take time but they waited this long for you, right?

No time in the world is more worth it.

It's probably worth mentioning that I could very clearly hear the chorus to Childish Gambino's song 'Heartbeat' when Kirishima went in for the hug and now it's stuck in my head.

I should also probably work more on WSA but I think I need to do a few one-shots just to get me back in the groove. I hope you enjoyed and sorry if it feels a bit rushed in some areas :')

Did I proof read it? Unfortunately not.

#x reader #kiribaku x reader #bakukiri x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #mha #bnha

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songsofbat · 2 months ago

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waiting for someone who doesn't exist

ooc: this might get a bit long. it's technically open to rp

Corus Wayne does not exist.

But this isn't about them.

(But it is, isn't it?)

They are quiet, quiet, padding. A slow movement through Gotham's streets.

Haunting. Aching.

A step out of tune.

Nobody sees them.

Nobody hears them.

They're fine with that, truly.

(For a fluttering second, they wonder if Reqeium is watching.)

They're so tired.

They want to go home.

They are a soft, tired thing. Frayed at the edges. A blanket overused.

It's not quite stumbling, they think. Weaving. Going with the flow of people.

Their mask is in their hands, now. There's no reason to keep it on.

After all, Corus Wayne does not exist.

There is no identity to hide, no secret to keep beyond the depths of their soul and the ache of their heart.

They trace out familiar routes, patrol routes they once knew. Stare at buildings that are different, run their hands over ones that have stayed the same.

It's nice. Not really.

It's not quite peace. Contentment. Tranquility. They're not really sure what they're feeling at all.

They just want to go home.

Familiar faces are everywhere- at the park, the grocer... flittering things that they can't quite remember or place. Stuff that they're not quite sure is real anymore.

Dark hair. Blue eyes. White streak. Green eyes. A shorter one. A leaner one. A taller one.

Please, they don't quite say. I miss you.

Do you miss me?

Are you searching for me?

Are you going to try to get me home?

They wonder if this is what dying feels like.

Honey-toned memories and thoughts that ebb and fade.

They know what dying feels like, don't they?

No. Yes. They've forgotten. Perhaps.

They want to go home.

...

That's not home.

That's Wayne Manor, but that's not home.

They linger on the edges of the property.

It sings to them- and they are a stranger to it.

They sing back.

This tune is far too familiar.

...

Nobody's around at the moment, they think.

They know.

Unless someone can hide from their gaze beyond. ...which is possible. But unlikely. Maybe. They don't really care anymore.

"Father," They begin, "Corvid, reporting in. Ever since I have found myself in this universe, I have noticed many irregularities. Universes crossing into each other. Variations of people we know."

Their voice does not shake.

"I found myself an ally. She has been helping me to work on a way home, but no progress has been made."

Their hands do not tremble.

"Signal was contacted by an otherworldly entity. I... he was taken, and then returned. I don't understand what is happening."

Their mind whirls. The world is loud, too loud in their mind. A sharp breath in. A sharp breath out.

"I encountered another version of myself. I fear my mental stability has been compromised. I don't know."

They can't breathe.

"I don't know what to do."

The words come out strangled. Broken in so many ways they think it might kill them.

"I don't know why I'm here."

The world is sharp at the edges, static flickering across their sight.

"I don't know how to go home."

They rub at their eyes.

"I don't know why I'm talking to you when you're not here."

They already know.

It's obvious, isn't it?

"I'm scared."

"Papa- 爸爸-" They're sniffling now. They feel like a child, weak and small. They don't know when that even started.

"I'm scared, papa. I don't know what to do and- I- I'm sorry I can't be stronger and better and I- I don't know- I hurt people, papa. And I get mad and I yell and snap and- I- I don't- I can't-"

It's too much, maybe. The trees are rustling the world is cold and the clouds rumble with brewing static they are the wind there is an ant grinding its mandibles they do not know why or how but they are so very-

it is-

their heart is racing head pounding that one stress induced headache that'll never go away dead and wrong and dull they see maybe they are reaching reaching and their third eye has never been wider-

wider-

staring staring reaching into collective unconsciousness into more more always more because maybe if they throw themselves far enough they could find their way back home-

but it burns sears across their head a blinding pain that makes them stumble and for a brief startling moment they realise-

something is terribly,

terribly,

wrong.

But they don't take note of it- don't take heed.

There's too much in their head. Screaming. Yelling. Nothing at all, but everything at once.

And everything shuts off.

The golden gleam around their eyes fades.

Corus not-Wayne stares at the world with deep black orbs and crumples to the ground.

On the edges of the property of the Wayne Estate, Corus crumbles- a heap. A child, in a cape that feels too big for them. In an outfit that feels too heavy for them.

They can't breathe.

But they wail anyway.

Corus no-longer-a-Wayne curls up and sobs.

#corus wayne #dc oc #dc oc rp #roleplay blog

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beetlevvings · 4 months ago

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I LOVE YOUR MATTMELLO DESIGNS!!!! (Hiiii fellow taller Matt truther!) Do you have any headcanons for them :3

Omg thank you so so much!!! Love to hear it!

I have SO many headcanons for them (including lanky ass, bow-legged Matt), so if you want to know anything specific feel free to send more asks. I’ll just toss out whatever comes to mind first :3 (Pretty Matt-centric)

• Matt and Mello have been impulsively visiting the tattoo parlor in our RP.

- Mello currently has: A gothic cross tattoo between his shoulder blades + pierced nipples, pierced ears and pierced tongue.

- Matt currently has: A tribal half-sleeve, a tribal tramp stamp, the Triforce symbol, the Umbrella Corp. symbol + 1/2” gauges, pierced ears, pierced nipples, lip piercing and a belly button piercing.

• Matt has GREAT memory. Dates/numbers/sequences in video games/lines of code, he rarely forgets things (even if he occasionally overlooks things out of carelessness).

• Matt has sensory issues, but they fluctuate. Sometimes he can be out all day without his gloves, sometimes he wears them to bed.

• When Matt’s not wearing goggles, he’s usually wearing sunglasses. His eyes are sensitive, but also he just doesn’t like eye contact.

• Matt got the eye contact avoidant autism, Mello got the eye contact seeking autism.

• Matt came to Wammy’s around age 8 (he’d already been in the system for most of his life). His second day there, Mello approached him, mad that they both had names starting with ‘M’.

• It took them a while to get along. Mello was really annoying and had no concept of personal space, but Matt admired how honest and expressive he was.

• Mello had some mangled form of cuteness/friendship aggression back then. One time he put a rock in a snowball and nailed Matt in the head with it. They remember this fondly.

• Matt left the House not long before his 17th birthday. Wammy’s helped him get established and found him an apartment in New York.

• When Mello and Matt reunited, they met up at a Waffle House in the middle of the night.

• Matt does freelance tech-work, ranging from website design to cyber security. Under the table, he also steals + sells identities/sensitive information and offers his services for hacking, etc.

• Over text, Matt is very crude and obnoxious. In person, he’s pretty quiet, easy-going, soft-spoken and patient. He recognizes the contrast, but thinks it’s funny.

• Mello likes to journal in his free time. It helps him sort his thoughts.

• Also, he has a growing plush collection. Matt goes crazy on claw machine games, and he thinks the fact that Mello keeps the prizes is cute, so then he wins even more. Vicious cycle.

• Mello is partially-deaf and has tinnitus. He could definitely use an aid of some kind, but he’s too stubborn to go and get one. It’s self-punishment for his failures. (Matt will have to drag him to a doctor eventually)

• He’s also mostly-blind in one eye and had some nerve damage on the left side of his face. His depth-perception is a little wonky, so he practices shooting regularly.

• Matt has a stutter and a slight speech delay that he’s mostly grown out of, but it flares up when he’s upset or stressed out.

• Matt’s not overly-fond of sweet stuff. He likes savory, spicy, or salty foods. His favorite safe food is pizza. :3

• Matt likes cars and he extra likes fast cars. He dabbles in a bit of street racing for fun.

#matt #mello #mellodramattic #death note headcanons #my asks

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cocained · 8 months ago

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𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄 — interest call

┊✦。‎welcome to easten bridge and its network the city's BEST behaved according to... well, literally no one! you thought the unlicensed parties were the end of it? you clearly haven't been to one of our illegal street races, fighting matches, OR our ever-changing physical black market where you can quite literally get anything your heart desires. how has all of this been funded? there's two names you need to remember. the vipers — yes, that notorious gang you've probably heard of. they run everything south of the river. uptown easten? THAT part belongs to club diamond — a mysterious members-only club for the elite. the only thing that connects these two parts of the city is the bridge, but many know that doesn't stop the underground network from forming rivalries, collaborations and chaos. i'm sure you can let your imagination run wild when it comes to a fuckin' paradise like this. trust me, you're gonna fit right in! — triggers apply such as: usfw, violence, guns, drugs, death and more.

private discord rp group. ✦ 21+ muns only. ✦ events & worldbuilding features such as expenses, income, time, season & weather.

#〈 ♦ | out of cocaine 〉

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not-that-dillinger · 8 months ago

Note

(Combining: GUEST : for one muse to offer the other a place to stay. STORM : for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm. Same universe as prev Ed and Sam rp?)

Sam had been tucked away in the basement of The Arcade, coding on The Grid’s terminal, so she didn’t hear the sound of the rain right away. When she did however it snapped her out of her trance. A jolt of slight panic coursing through her. The bike!

She raced up the stairs, pushing away the TRON machine she had moved back into place behind her so that Marvin didn’t wander in when she was working, and raced past the other covered, but no longer dusty, cabinet machines in the arcade till she was at the door, swiftly unlocking it. She paused under the covered threshold of the entrance when she saw just how much water was falling out of the sky. That was definitely one hell of a storm.

Well. It’s not like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

She flipped her hood up and walked out to the street towards her Dad’s… well her, Ducati now, kicking up the kickstand and grabbing onto the handlebars to walk it under the covered threshold. She lifted her head up when she heard the shuffling of feet and some splashes nearby. At first she didn’t recognize him through the rain until he got a bit closer. She lifted one of her arms, waving it slightly as she called out to be heard over the pounding of raindrops and howling wind.

“Ed! Hey! Over here!”

She rested the Ducati against the wall, still waving with her hand as she held open the door of the arcade to invite him inside.

@iamnoprogram

It was one of those days where Ed couldn't go home. One of the days where he was afraid of what he might do if he left his thoughts to wander. Usually he would stay at the office and code until he passed out at at the keyboard, but his meeting with Mackey earlier that day had been... it had been a lot of things, but certainly not good. Draining, mostly. And for reasons Ed wasn't quite sure of, it brought up old ghosts that Ed still couldn't put to rest. They were the sort of ghosts that made his office, which was normally a refuge, feel downright oppressive.

He'd hoped that a long walk would exhaust him enough that he could go home and pass out as as soon as he got to bed.

He'd been walking for about an hour and a half when the storm hit. It was one of those rare deluges came so suddenly, and so intensely, that LA's near non-existent storm drainage system quickly overflowed and flooded the streets. The kind he'd only seen a handful of times in the twenty-some-odd years he'd lived there.

Between the dark, and the rain fogging up his glasses, he had pocketed the glasses in hopes of preserving them when he inevitably tripped over his feet, and resigned himself to shuffling blindly back toward the tower and his car.

Not that he had any idea whether it would be better to go home or stay at the office.

He hadn't been walking back long when he heard someone calling his name, though it had still been long enough that he was thoroughly drenched, and shivering mildly from the cold. He froze in place on the sidewalk, having to take a moment to identify her by voice, since he was all but entirely blind.

"...Sam?" he asked, then realizing where he was, and that she was the only person likely to be there. He glanced both directions, and, seeing no lights, nor hearing any vehicles (there rarely were; this part of town had been all but abandoned since he was in middle school), shuffled across the street, navigating toward Sam by voice alone.

"Hi Sam," he said awkwardly, stepping under the eaves. "Uh, thanks," he said awkwardly, hesitantly following her into the Arcade.

#/* Okay this is really funny considering: */#/* 1. my first ever thread with Ed was the reverse of this situation (but not the arcade) with Alan */#/* 2. But it also ended up involving Ed fake-dating a trans-masc Sam */#/* excited to see where this one goes */#thanks for the ask!#rp #muse: ed dillinger jr #rp-047 #iamnoprogram

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thelealinhypehouse · 17 days ago

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Mains from FFXIV Intorduction (open for rp!)

Name: Nava Reed (fake name)

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 27

Race: Half Elezen (Ishgard) with awaken dragon blood

Occupation: Member of Rogue's Gulid, Adventurer

Home/Origin: Born at Flaceon Nest but raised at Limsa Lominsa

Goal/Motivation: Revenge on Ishgardian Inquisitors and Parents

Strength: Cooking, Torturing, Acrobatic

Weakness: Reading and writing (he can but its slow), hot headed

Likes: Food, fights, pretty clothing (he is alwyas amazend about lace work, how patient you need to be for it and how stunning it looks)

Dislikes: Betreyal, bugs, snow

Class: Red Mage/Dark Knight/Rogue/Machinist

Family/Childhood: Born at Flacon Nest to Ul'dah merchant and Elezen from High House of Ishgard, She gone against the will fo her family to marry the merchant. The war with dragons was raging on and one his village was attacked. During this his mother when was pregnant with him got injuried and few drops of dragon blood fallen on her. She didn't turn. All was absorbed by the baby. When Nava was born his eyes was white, at first they thought he was born blind but it was not. When he was 5 the horns started to slowly show up. At first they tried to hide them under bandanas, hats ect, but they still growing. Cutting them ended up causing alot of pain, because they had veins. Somebody from the village contacted the Ishgardian Inqusition to investigate probally the dragon spawn. They wanted to to Nava away and kill him or something. Parents was acused of heresy but they get the option to repent the sins. Nava before was taking away he just escape the village and thanks to merchant wo was on the way to Limsa he hide himself in one of thier boxes. At Limsa he become street thief. Probally meet Thranced once or twice before he was took by Archon Louisoix. Nava other hand was took by Thief Gulid. This is where meet Jacke Swallow, the future Capitan Jacke of Rogue's Gulid. With him created this gulid and Nava become one of the more fierce member. Taking out more scummy people than normaly. Not before tet more info if there is bigger fish to take out... Years go by, he tried to help people as he could during Calamity. It was hard, there are so many things that happend that time... With Gulid they helped with rebuilding Limsa and areas that was affected. This is when Nava started to think about traveling, to try new things, be at new places, meet new people. He decided to be adventurer, but still hoding Code to his heart and helping when needed.

Quirks:

Great as coinkeeper for gulid.

Always having pair of daggers if magic not gonna work

He is cruel, if somebody hurt people dear to Nava, he will not be gentle.

Master culinarian, took grwreat time at culinarian gulid.

Quote: May gods have mercy for my enemies because I won't.

Introduction: Sitting at on one of the Ul'dah tavern you spot the hyur sitting not farr form you. On second look you spoted the pointy ears. On third look you spotted the horns. You thoght they are maybe some kind fancy decoration? Than you see they finishied thier dring with few big glups, and stand from seat, levaing the gil. He was observing someone that was leaving tavern too. Before he gone he just "fixed" position of his dagger on the belt.

Random info: - He and Jacke where FwB - Can eat alot and loves to try new food

Name: Alden Lush

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 25

Race: Hyur

Associated God: Thalik

Occupation: Studium Absolvent, Thaliak chosen

Home/Origin: Old Sharlayan

Goal/Motivation: Unravel mystery of parents “death” and what they investigate. The Truth

Strength: Memory, Alchemy, Perceptive, lots of aether (all carby are the chonky ones), fast reader.

Weakness: Cooking, No Street Smart, Lots of times lost in thoughts and not looking around, shy with talking. Zero social skills.

Likes: Food, books, sunny days,

Dislikes: Surprises, Mimics

Class: Summoner/Scholar

Family/Childhood: Born at Old Sharlayan to a pair of scholars. They go on expeditions lots of the time, but one in the while Alden joins them as a kid. Once at Costa del Sol met a blonde Miqo'te and became friends. Sadly Alden needed to go back home but promised to go back one day. That never happened, but why? Sadly on the next expedition they went without him, and they didn't come back. The rescue mission was created, but they come back mostly empty handed. They found the destroyed ship, bodies of the crew and a few personal items of his parents including the father book he used as a summoner. They were called dead and now what to do with Alden? There were no other relatives there. Finally was adopted by one of the Forum members, and the era of traveling has come to an end. His guardian told him he can leave Sharlayan only when he graduates Studium. So Alden studied hard to enter there. He chose Aeather Archeology as specialization. Finally when finished his studies and became a full titled scholar, he began to prepare for the journey. To unravel the mystery of his parents and what they found.

Quirks:

When lost in thoughts he walks, and doesn't look where. That show he learned how to swim

Don’t need a book to cast, he only needs some ink and surface to write, but books are handy

Even with perfect memory he always has the book with notes and checks lots of times.

Have favorite seal plushie from childhood

Blessing: Thaliak Blessing - Absolute Memory

Quote: Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.

Introduction: As you live peacefully in Limsa minding your own business you see young hyur on streets that seem lost. Always checking his book in hands and muttering to himself. You see him going one direction, and not even a minute pass you see him going back the same road. Only a miracle that he didn't end up at Limsa water…yet.

Radom info: - Just can't cook, boiling water are his max skills - Few times he broke his glasses, so he have a spare at his coat.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv oc bio #ffxiv hyur #ffxiv gpose #nava reed #alden lush

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miqojak · 7 months ago

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B A S I C S

(Much of this - and more - can be found on her carrd!)

Name: J'kesri Denma - Goes by Jak, her tribal name is known to maybe a total of 3 people? And only one of them is allowed use of it in private.

Nicknames: 'The Dragon', Jackal (the name she went by as a thief on the streets of Ul'dah), Ember (former), Empress Ember (former), Little Robin

Age: 27ish, give or take a year - she's not sure exactly. I've been aging her...once each real life year since 2019 (when I said she was 22ish, give or take some), but she's always just had a sort of estimate on her age.

Nameday: She has no idea!

( I do like to think that she's a Scorpio in our real world Western Zodiac - which I don't know how to translate to Eorzean dates - and a Dragon, like me, in the Eastern zodiac.)

Race: Miqo'te, Seeker of the Sun

Gender: Female

Orientation: I'd say she's over all Graysexual, maybe some degree of Demi or Sapiosexual? The perfect storm has to happen for her to want any sort of intimate relationship... even friendship is hard to manage (she very genuinely seeks out intelligent/clever people to have around her), but a true relationship that's 'romantic' or sexual? Well, the perfect combination of events accidentally happened once. But gender has never really entered into it? She just so happens to have attracted and ended up with men in RP! She was/is poly as well, but has agreed to be monosexual with her current partner!

Profession: Restaurant Manager/Owner, Jazz Club Owner/Manager, Tattoo Artist (by appointment, not widely known)

Not publicly known: Criminal (it's a broad umbrella, but her activities outside of the Yakuza are often no less devious than within), Yakuza leadership (Wakagashira/second in command, current acting head of the family while the Oyabun is on indefinite hiatus), Cat burglar! She's very Selena Kyle - her goal is to do more burglary around Ul'dah to screw over the wealthy elite...and maybe actually do some good for people like her, barely scraping by in the gutters, forgotten by society.

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Black/Orange - most often slicked back and partially braided, partially tied into a tight ponytail. When relaxed/at home she may opt not to do all the work to tame her hair to look more 'coiffed' as she does in public, and it is about shoulder length, and quite curly!

Eyes: Gold/Green

Skin: Olive/light brown, gold undertones

Tattoos/scars:

-Scars: One small slash at each cheek, one across the bridge of her nose. Levin/lightning scarring in bursts at both shoulders and biceps. A long, ragged scar spanning the length of her back, from the inside of the left side of her neck, to the top of her right buttock.

-Tattoos: Black dragon that winds up the right half of her body. Jackal on her left forearm. 3 Phoenix down feathers on her right wrist. A watercolor robin tattooed just under her left breast, along her ribs.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Deceased, slain by Garlemald in Gyr Abania

Siblings: The only one left alive is her twin brother, J'vynia/Vynnie, @miqo-vynnie, who no longer plays...and she kinda wrote Vynnie out of her life after some things she saw as huge betrayals. She talks shit, but she's been off-kilter ever since he left her life! They had a very Yin/Yang dynamic... where Jak was actually more of the Yang/masculine side of things that's very active... and now missing that more passive and down to earth aspect of Yin? She's been really out of control for a long time. Luckily, the lover she never expected to have has done a good job of grounding her.

Grandparents: Unknown.

In-laws and Other: None.

Pets: She doesn't do pets. As much as I like animals... Jak grew up tribal and sees animals as food, and find the concept of a beast in her home dirty and a waste of resources and time. (And one more thing she could get attached to and lose!) Fun fact: She doesn't like any sort of large bird, and they're one of the few things that actively frighten her! This includes things like Griffons, and Chocobos... those big, yellow birds have murder in their eyes... better to eat them, before they eat you.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Keen eyesight and incredibly sensitive hearing; can play piano by ear; martial arts; prefers (non-lethal) poisoned throwing knives/staying at range; when equipped with her DRK soul crystal, her skillset vastly expands - altering her fighting style entirely, and emboldening her with the knowledge that she can now both inflict - and sustain - more damage in close combat.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Diligent/honest - often too honest. She takes even her positive qualities to extremes, and works out too hard, spends too much time trying to excel as a Wakagashira in the Yakuza who is a woman... and she sets extremely high goals for herself and others...which leads into her negative traits.

Most Negative Trait: Judgemental/applies high standards to others. She has a twisted set of standards that makes sense to her, and likely not to many others, most of these rooted in years of trauma - but her high goals were intended to be a good thing. Even for others...she simply pushes both herself, and others (especially if she LIKES you) too hard, more often than not. She believes in constantly bettering oneself, and... she's a creature of extremes. It's hard for her to know when it's too much/she's asking too much...of anyone, to include herself.

L I K E S

Colors: Gold/white, red/black

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Moko only, these days, to relax now and then.

Drugs: Former somnus addict - she's worked hard to beat this addiction...and continues to, because addiction is a lifelong curse even once you're clean! But she doesn't like anyone or anything having control over her - and an addiction controls your life more than any other person could! (Plus it's a way that other people COULD control you, in her mind. All the more reason to have dropped the habit.)

Alcohol: She used to be a bit of an alcoholic, on top of a drug addict - she's had a lot of impetus and encouragement to get her shit together...and has! She drinks recreationally/to relax, but takes it easier these days... you're easier to take advantage of, and more likely to say or do things you shouldn't, when drunk...and she likes to be in control!

Been Arrested: Not yet! She's run from the Blades in Ul'dah more than once...but it's not a crime if you don't get caught, right??

Tagged by: @chadhunkler ! Sorry it took me a bit to find the spoons, but thank you for thinking of me! I do love to do little things like this...and should do this for my Male Miqo and my kitsune to better flesh them out, honestly...

Tagging - some people in my notifs, and anyone who hasn't done it/wants to! @uldahstreetrat, @lightyouarelikes (for whoever you want to do it for), @wpip-raham, @xmimiteh, @twelvesblades (if you want to do it!), @briar-ffxiv , @shieldandarrow , @captainqster

(I'm trying to fight the uphill battle against my depressive apathy/malaise... I know deep down I want to be active and meet people and RP and take part in things!! So thanks for tagging me and interacting, folks!)

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #ff14 rp #ffxiv oc #oc info #have some old art too

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