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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door.

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives.

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun.

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat.

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there.

The hands on his shoulders tightened.

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house.

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green.

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub.

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal.

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower.

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders.

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth.

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore.

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes.

#death of a villain #original fiction #drowning tw #gun tw #threats with gun tw #chris the strawberry blond romantic #oliver branch is gross #but also very dead now #so that's nice #whump #character death tw #creepy whumper #villain death #did anyone guess 'paul's mob friends'?#karen renford #wru #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse

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transarchivist · 5 years ago

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Do you have any podcast recommendations? I've listened to tma, wolf359, the penumbra podcast, and like...half of night vale. You seem like you'd know some good ones!

!!!

I Am In Eskew is an absolute all-time favorite of mine! It’s very firmly horror, but not tragedy. Think… WTNV but 1. on a personal scale, 2. actually terrifying, and 3. not benign. It follows David Ward, inhabitant of the city Eskew, as he chronicles some of the terrifying stuff that happens to him. Eventually, we hear from Riyo Dulae, a private investigator who’s been pulled into Eskew’s orbit. It uses place-as-horror in an astonishing way! It’s a finished product with 30 episodes and the ending is honestly amazing. I’ve listened to it several times. It’s very good. Listen to it. Please.

This got long, so the rest of the recommendations are under the cut, and in no particular order! (Eskew is absolutely my top recommendation lol) Particularly sad endings and ongoing series are specified.

Janus Descending is a finished and relatively short sci-fi horror series. It follows two xenoarcheologists (archeologists for aliens) as they inspect the site of an abandoned alien civilization. It’s told in inverse chronological order, alternating between Chel and Peter’s perspectives. Chel’s is chronological, while Peter’s is backwards. It’s an amazing format and keeps you suspended in the mystery up until the very end! It is a tragedy, though, and has a sad ending.

ars PARADOXICA is an audio drama about time-travel and the Cold War. The synopsis is this: scientist Sally Grissom accidentally creates time travel, is transported back to the Cold War, and is entwined with a clandestine branch of the US government. It’s 3 seasons long- and I will say that if you’re not good with differentiating voices I recommend either listening to it without stopping for a long period and/or reading along to transcripts. The plot is intricate but engaging and the large cast of characters each has their own unique personality. Plus: canon ace main character (as in she says she’s asexual! in canon!), a Jewish lesbian semi-main character, a mlm (bi?) man of color side-character, and several other characters of color.

Mabel is an ongoing horror podcast with elements of fae/fairy lore and the place-as-horror theme. It’s not as outright horror as TMA, Eskew, or Janus Descending, it’s much more atmospheric? It’s several seasons in, with the next season currently in production. It follows Anna Limon, who is an in-home caretaker, trying to contact Mabel Martin, the granddaughter of the woman Anna is caring for. It has lots of wlw, lots of moral ambiguity, beautiful prose, and lots and lots of fae.

Zero Hours is a 7 episode long anthology series by the creators of Wolf 359. Each episode deals with “the end of the world - or at least something that feels like the end of the world.” There’s 99-year intervals between episode and it starts in the past and ends in the far future. It’s honestly stunning and was well worth listening to in it’s entirety when it dropped (and subsequently staying up past midnight).

The Bright Sessions is… kinda urban fantasy? The official synopsis is that TBS is a “science fiction podcast that follows a group of therapy patients. But these are not your typical patients - each has a unique supernatural ability. The show documents their struggles and discoveries as well as the motivations of their mysterious therapist, Dr. Bright.” (I tried explaining but was having a tricky time) The characters are amazingly written and unique. (And no, it doesn’t fall into the “evil therapist” idea, in case you were worried) One of the main characters is gay (and it isn’t a throwaway line). It has good and realistic representation of mental illnesses: a main character as a panic/anxiety disorder, another has PTSD, another has depression, and so on. The main show is finished but there’s a spin off that’s being made. Specifically happy ending!

Alice Isn’t Dead is a horror podcast by the creators of Night Vale. It follows Keisha, a trucker, who is looking for her wife, Alice. Keisha encounters many strange things as she drives back and forth across America, including murderous almost-human monsters, places that are stuck out of time, and a nation spanning conspiracy. It encompasses the whole… atmosphere of middle-of-nowhere America perfectly. It’s a complete story with a novel form (haven’t had the pleasure of reading it, though). Main character is wlw, and Alice is not dead.

Limetown is a horror podcast. It follows reporter Lia Haddock as she investigates the mystery of Limetown- a town in Tennessee where over 300 people disappeared overnight, never to be heard from again. It’s finished…? I think the podcast is finished but a book and a Facebook miniseries are in development? Anyways. Sad ending. I loved the first season a lot, the second season is good too though!

The Adventure Zone isn’t an audio drama, instead it’s an actual-play show of Dungeons and Dragons (and D&D like systems). The McElroy brothers and their dad host it, and are frankly absolutely hilarious. TAZ: Balance is the first season and starts as a classic d&d game but turns into an amazing and heart wrenching story with beautiful prose and music. And also 69 jokes. TAZ:B is honestly one of the most emotionally impacting stories I’ve ever heard. It has an amazingly happy and hopeful ending. Includes: casual lgbt rep and a late game but major character is a trans woman! I’ve heard good things about the recently finished season TAZ: Amnesty, although I haven’t finished it. There’s a new season, TAZ: Graduation, that started recently, and I’ve enjoyed the handful of episodes I’ve listened to! Currently ongoing, but tragic endings aren’t something that’s expected.

I haven’t finished/caught up with these, but I’ve enjoyed them: Sayer (sci-fi. think menacing capitalist Night Vale in space, heard s3/s4 are really good), The Bridge (horror, alternate modern day. follows a watchpost on a bridge that crosses the Atlantic), The Orbiting Human Circus (from the people at WTNV. surreal fiction. hard to explain). I feel like there’s more but I can’t remember any atm.

I’m also gonna point you towards @theradioghost‘s blog and her podcast recs tag. Her taste is amazing and I haven’t disliked a single show I’ve tried. (Also, check out her show, Midnight Radio! It’s the next thing on my to-listen list.)

#podcast recs #ask #anon #cae speaks #mine

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derangedsilence · 5 years ago

Text

Reiji Sakamaki

Permissions

Shipping? Yes. Singleship per verse with limited verses. Please note - as stated on the rules page, orientation is typically listed as what the muses think they are.

Duplicates? Multiple ‘Yuis’? What about character that aren’t on the dedicated castmates list? Yes. You can thrust Reiji at Reiji. There’s also no issue with duplicates of canon, crossover, etc. characters that Reiji is already interacting with. You want it, you got it. To prevent destroying the validity of duplicate muses, I will sometimes think of things as ‘A Kanato did this’ instead of ‘Kanato did this’, which is a very subtle difference but prevents another muse from having to deal with the blame of an event they were not responsible for. This will only be differentiated as necessary within writing. I repeat: all duplicate muses will be treated with respect, not as ‘fakes’. Any Sakamaki brother is a brother of his, regardless of how many Kanatos there are (for example). We’re just going to, uh, slide past that as often as possible (and occasionally make jokes).

Multiple Reijis will be treated as though they’d somehow wandered into one’s world or the other via some enchanted, strange object or doorway in the Sakamaki household. This allows them to interact, but prevents the concept that one is a ‘true’ Reiji over the other. You have been warned.

Fighting? A-Okay. I’ve done a lot of fighting roleplay but it was in the past and I’m way more interested in the storytelling of it. It’s better that we discuss the end result beforehand for smoother sailing, but we can improv it as well. I do this from a storytelling perspective.

Harming? A-Okay! Just be aware that this muse may harm or kill yours in turn!

Killing? A-Okay! Please be aware, however, that should the need or desire to continue the verse arise, the death scene will be considered a what-if. In addition, it is very difficult to kill this muse due to the pureblood resurrection abilities.

Can we send shippy memes / etc.? Sure, we can still explore what-ifs, drabbles and oneshot threads, but the main focus will be on the storyline here!

Can we know Yui has Cordelia’s heart, is possibly turning into a vampire, is surrounded by vampires, etc. and reference this to Reiji? On a case-by-case basis. It should be discovered organically if it’s not something your character would be able to know already. There’s plenty of situations where this would make sense.

Can we know about Reiji’s past before interacting? No, not unless you have genuine reasons for it like being one of his brothers.

Can we have characters comment on the events of the timeline? Yes, if they “catch sight of”, “overhear a rumor”, “a familiar saw X”, or any other sensible reason, then characters can be aware of and comment on events. I wholly encourage characters participate in Reiji’s life! Please tell the story with me!

Can we rescue Yui Komori from the Sakamaki household? Unlikely. At best, if you succeed in the first place, it’s entirely likely that they will find you, they will take Yui back, and they will kill one or both of you for this. Or the Mukamis might take advantage of the situation! Obviously, the exception here is the Mukamis, who are entirely expected to attempt this from time to time.

Can we reference interactions we’ve had with your Kanato, etc. to Reiji? I mean...sure? If you want? I’m fine with using my muses for plot and timeline advancements for myself and those I interact with (within limits) but I’d also prefer to not be my Ayato’s Kanato and vice versa, so this would probably be limited. You can still act like what’s happened has happened, though.

Biography / Stats

FULL NAME. Reiji Sakamaki ALIAS. Reiji-san (Yui), Tableware Otaku (Ayato), Shichisan Megane (Ayato), That “Unlikeable Person” (Laito), My Dear (Cordelia) AGE. Appears 18-19 || Actually significantly older BIRTHDAY. August 29 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male, he/him ORIENTATION. Heterosexual SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. High school student of the night school known as Ryoutei Academy. 3rd year in HDB, 1st year of the college branch if assuming time has passed. RESIDENCE. Sakamaki residence, Japan

HAIR. Dark purple/black EYES. Red BUILD. Fit HEIGHT. 6'0'' (183cm) TATTOOS. None PIERCINGS. None. ADDITIONAL MARKINGS. Glasses. OTHER. Right-handed

ZODIAC. Virgo ALIGNMENT. Lawful neutral POSITIVE TRAITS. disciplined, sophisticated, intelligent NEGATIVE TRAITS. strict, arrogant, perfectionist

BIRTH PLACE. Japan NATIONALITY. Japanese PARENTS. Karlheinz (Alive?), Beatrix (Dead) SIBLINGS. Sibling: Shuu (older). Paternal Half-siblings: Subaru and the triplets (Ayato, Kanato, Laito) EXTENDED FAMILY. Karlheinz's other wives, Christa and Cordelia. Richter (Uncle). EDUCATION. High school (likely several times over) SPECIES. Vampire NOTABLE SKILLS. Housecleaning, cooking, household management, academic work, poison & drug creation, piano, chess LANGUAGES. Japanese, English, German FAVORITE FOOD. Spaghetti carbonara

PUREBLOOD. Inhuman strength, increased speed, vision, hearing, and smell. Fast healing & healing saliva. TELEPORTATION. Can teleport instantaneously. FLYING. He can fly on a full moon. SWORDSMANSHIP. A OTHER. Potion, drug and poison creation. Can heal/treat vampires. WEAKNESSES. Truly holy objects weaken him, but not by much. DISLIKES. Weakness, poor manners, disobedience towards the rules of the household, the cursed incantation of “Reiji, Reiji, please engage-y”

Appearance

[*Credit: Appearance section pulled directly from the Dialovers Wiki.]

Reiji is a tall, slender young man. His hair is primarily purple-black with a lighter gradient. It is almost an inch away from being shoulder length and it is neatly combed. Reiji’s eyes are red. He wears rectangular glasses.

Reiji usually dresses professionally to match his cordial facade. In HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL, he wears a grey and black vest over a white dress shirt with black pants and a black belt.

In MORE, BLOOD, he wears a black trench coat with a white dress shirt and black pants.

In DARK FATE, Reiji grows his hair out in order to emulate his father.

His school uniform consists of the black school jacket with a buttoned red vest over a black dress shirt and red tie. He wears it with the black uniform pants and dress shoes.

According to Cordelia, if he weren’t so stiff, Reiji would look just like Karlheinz when she first met him. She says that even his eyes are just like Karl’s. This was said in an effort to tease Reiji, since he admires his father and dreams of becoming like him.

Personality

The household is a reflection of the outside world and one’s ability to affect it.

Despite being the second son, Reiji manages the Sakamaki house during Karlheinz’ prolonged absence as though he is the eldest. Reiji manages the household funds, affairs and maintains the rules and expectations within the house. Reiji is a strict perfectionist who values rules and expectations and he demands highly of both himself and others.

Often wearing a smile, Reiji is intelligent, reserved...and pessimistic. The second son’s polite, refined mannerisms make the barbs in his sophisticated speech come at a surprise - unless you’re related to him.

History

CHILDHOOD. As the second son of the Sakamaki family, Beatrix raised him to be a servant for his elder brother, Shuu. She focused her attention almost entirely on Shuu, neglecting Reiji’s ambitious nature and his achievements.

Reiji’s desire for his mother’s approval and attention never waned. Twisting as the desire continued to be unmet, Reiji eventually burned down an entire human village, resulting in the death of Shuu’s human friend Edgar. Reiji did this to punish and teach Shuu a lesson while also hoping to help and impress his mother, Beatrix. Eventually Reiji even hired a vampire hunter to kill his mother in his desire to finally be acknowledged by her. Instead of feeling at peace with it, he was dissatisfied that his mother was happy that he had killed her.

NEAR CURRENT. Karlheinz manipulated circumstances to keep tossing experimental sacrificial brides at his children. None could endure the blood loss, physical and emotional torment. The sacrificial brides were too fragile and the Sakamakis broke their toys.

CURRENT. A single sacrificial bride is surviving and enduring: Yui Komori. Whichever brother obtains her will become the Sakamaki heir. Without directly entering into a “relationship” with any of the Sakamakis, she endures her stay there.

Verses

Brief summaries of the verses for Reiji along with potential links for those less familiar with Diabolik Lovers but still want to interact with him. For the sake of keeping things clean, encouraging community-wide and cooperative storytelling in roleplay, and not letting things get too crazy, verses will be limited. More may be made over time as needed.

Summaries:

VERSE - HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

*This verse will be typically be the default, 'main verse'. In this, it is assumed that Yui Komori is staying at the Sakamaki household with some version of the first game having taken place. If the second game is included, it's with the idea that Yui stayed with the Sakamakis. Whether Reiji or one of his brothers winds up obtaining the Sacrificial Bride, Reiji’s life continues.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; REIJI; HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

VERSE - MORE BLOOD

If for some reason it's absolutely necessary to differentiate between the verse above and a verse where More Blood has certainly occured, but Yui did not (at least initially) stay with the Sakamakis and instead is currently living with the Mukamis or was, until recently, still living with the Mukamis. Rivalry abounds and attempts to procure Yui are likely.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; REIJI; MORE BLOOD

VERSE - MISC.

Posts that could take place in the Sakamaki or Mukami verses but involve duplicates (whether Yui or others) in the same scene in a manner that would be hard to pass off as typical flow for those verses. Also includes nearly ANY time fellow characters are staying at the mansion, otherwise we’d end up with verses of 20+ additional characters hanging out in the Sakamaki villa.

Verse Details | Tag:#V; REIJI; MISC

SITUATIONAL VERSE TAGS

#V; REIJI; UNIVERSAL

Posts that can easily be assumed to have occured in either the Sakamaki or Mukami verses, typically answering asks, etc. that aren’t directly related to events unique to their timelines.

#V; REIJI; WHAT IFS & #V; REIJI; ONESHOTS

Likely reserved for one-off threads exploring a “what if”, a romantic meme that would otherwise be inappropriate, etc. If a meme doesn’t quite fit with one of the existing timelines, it’ll get one of these.

Trivia

Collects tableware

Good at finding killers for hire apparently, you go man

He reads very well

Sensitive when he gets drunk, whatever that means

He wants to bring his mother back to torture and kill her again