#weary eyes | rp

[down-the-winding-corridors]

Well, hey, you look more approachable than most of whatever the fuck everyone else seems to be. I'm Jax, nice to meet you

@two-halves-dragon

Explorer blinks at Jax, dipping their head in greeting. "I'm... glad I seem approachable? I'm Explorer, it's nice to meet you as well."

#shimmering like smoke | explorer #weary eyes | rp #two-halves-dragon

[veneror]

finally put together some better tags oo baby

  .   𓆩   COMMAND  ME  TO  BE  WELL.       ╱     ooc.

  .   𓆩  NO  GRAVE  CAN  HOLD  MY  BODY  DOWN  .  I’LL  CRAWL  HOME.       ╱     asks.

  .   𓆩  JUST  TO  TAKE  THE  INJURY  OF  FINALLY  KNOWING  YOU.       ╱     starters.

  .   𓆩  HEAT  OF  HER  BREATH  IN  MY  MOUTH  .  I’M  ALIVE.       ╱     promo.

  .   𓆩  OUR  TEETH  AND  LUNGS  ARE  LINED  WITH  THE  SCUM  OF  IT.      ╱     rp memes.

  .   𓆩  DON’T  LET  ME  IN  WITH  NO  INTENTION  TO  KEEP  ME.       ╱     open starter.

  .   𓆩  NO  SWEETER  INNOCENCE  THAN  OUR  GENTLE  SIN.       ╱     crack.

  .   𓆩  IDEALISM  SITS  IN  PRISON  .  CHIVALRY  FELL  ON  ITS  SWORD.       ╱     dash games.

  .   𓆩  I  FEEL  LIKE  A  PERSON  FOR  A  MOMENT  OF  MY  LIFE.       ╱     affiliates.

VOX    .     (ic)         ╱          there  are  no  actors  in  this  film  /  what  you  see  and  hear  is  real.

VOX    .     (isms)         ╱          fog  their  eyes  with  static  and  color  .  they  may  not  see  the  truth.

VOX    .     (ships)         ╱          what  could  i  possibly  do  to  make  you  love  me  inhumanely  ?

VOX    .     (visage)         ╱          CLICK  to  apologize!  CLICK  to  be  saved!  CLICK  to  be  pure!

ALASTOR    .     (ic)         ╱          i  am  a  pitch  black  slaughterhouse  /  i  am  the  flesh  maggots  adore.

ALASTOR    .     (isms)         ╱          the  stars  are  moving  now  /  do  you  see  the  hungry  eye?

ALASTOR    .     (ships)         ╱          to  sink  his  claws  into  the  overripe  pomegranite  /  to  be  known  .  to  be  eaten.

ALASTOR    .     (visage)         ╱          blessed  be  the  son  of  the  doe  /  performer  to  an  audience  of  none.

LUCIFER    .     (ic)         ╱          it  is  all  so  heavy  /  it  has  nowhere  else  to  go  but  my  shaky  hands.

LUCIFER    .     (isms)         ╱          the  serpent  will  always  eat  itself  /  no  beginning  .  no  ending.

LUCIFER    .     (ships)         ╱          if  love  is  not  a  shrine  /  it  is  always  going  to  be  a  scar.

LUCIFER    .     (visage)         ╱          i  am  an  accusation  .  a  wicked  omen  .  a  promise  of  apocalyptic  unholy.

BEETLEJUICE    .     (ic)         ╱          and  i  believe  all  this  anger  was  once  love  gone  to  wretched  hands.

BEETLEJUICE    .     (isms)         ╱          are  you  tired  of  me  yet  ?   i  grow  weary  of  my  own  voice.

BEETLEJUICE    .     (ships)         ╱          think  of  love  .  imagine  an  open  and  shielded  wound.

BEETLEJUICE    .     (visage)         ╱          you  will  see  me  rotting  in  the  darkness  .  i  will  crack  another  joke.

ASTARION    .     (ic)         ╱          a  personification  /  an  abstraction.  what  else  does  it  mean  to  be  a  god  ?

ASTARION    .     (isms)         ╱          who  have  you  become  in  the  wake  of  all  that  has  happened  ?

ASTARION    .     (ships)         ╱          you  kiss  the  palms  of  my  hands  so  gently.  i  know  how  it  feels  to  adore.

ASTARION    .     (visage)         ╱          crimson  in  my  teeth  .  promises  under  my  tongue.

EVE    .     (ic)         ╱          the  sun  glows  in  my  chest  .  the  moon  blooms  across  my  eyes.

EVE    .     (isms)         ╱          with  feather  touches  and  ivory  kisses  /  i  bring  you  to  paradise.

EVE    .     (ships)         ╱          i  will  plant  fields  of  lavender  in  your  soul  /  i  will  untangle  the  fear.

EVE    .     (visage)         ╱          honey  -  mouthed  and  quiet.  love  spills  from  the  stars  again.

VALENTINO    .     (ic)         ╱          reminders  of  me  in  the  walls  of  your  organs.  i  am  the  parasite  you  feed.

VALENTINO    .     (isms)         ╱          see  me  in  the  back  of  your  mirror  /  i  haunt  like  a  silent  ghost.

VALENTINO    .     (ships)         ╱          tear  a  confession  from  you  like  a  fish  hook  to  the  throat.

VALENTINO    .     (visage)         ╱          it  will  reach  behind  me  and  rip  the  spine  from  my  body.

BLITZO    .     (ic)         ╱          what  is  a  battlefield  if  not  a  body  ?  what  is  pain  if  not  an  admittance  ?

BLITZO    .     (isms)         ╱          yearn  is  too  delicate  of  a  word.  there  is  something  horrible  in  my  chest.

BLITZO    .     (ships)         ╱          you  love  with  so  much  anger  /  is  it  all  towards  yourself  ?

BLITZO    .     (visage)         ╱          it  rots  in  my  teeth.  the  opportunity  for  second  chances.

  .   ꒰ა   ADAM  AND  EVE   |   . . . IT  WAS  SOFTER  TO  LIE  WITH  YOU.       ╱     origiinis.

  .   ꒰ა   ALASTOR  AND  LILITH   |   . . . IN  THE  DARKNESS  I  WILL MEET  MY  CREATOR.       ╱     lilitophidian.

  .   ꒰ა   VOX  AND  ALASTOR   |   . . . RIP  ME  APART  WITH  YOUR  LOVING  TEETH.       ╱     videoaux.

  .   ꒰ა   EVE  AND  ALASTOR   |   . . . TO  BE  LOVED  IS  TO  BE  REMEMBERED.       ╱     hellsbroadcaster.

  .   ꒰ა   LUCIFER  AND  ASTARION   |   . . . ANGELIC  ONE  .  I  AM  SAVED.       ╱     hcllishsins.

  .   ꒰ა   LUCIFER  AND  VOX   |   . . . YOU  MADE  A  HOME  IN  THIS  DREADFUL  SOUL.       ╱     videoaux.

  .   ꒰ა   ALASTOR  AND  ANGEL   |   . . . WANTING  BURNS  FROM  THE  INSIDE  OUT.       ╱     spyderdust.

  .   ꒰ა   VOX AND LUCIFER   |   . . . I'M JUST LOWERING YOUR EXPECTATIONS.       ╱     xluciifer.

#. 𓆩 COMMAND ME TO BE WELL. ╱ ooc. #. 𓆩 NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN . I’LL CRAWL HOME. ╱ asks. #. 𓆩 JUST TO TAKE THE INJURY OF FINALLY KNOWING YOU. ╱ starters. #. 𓆩 HEAT OF HER BREATH IN MY MOUTH . I’M ALIVE. ╱ promo. #. 𓆩 OUR TEETH AND LUNGS ARE LINED WITH THE SCUM OF IT. ╱ rp memes. #. 𓆩 DON’T LET ME IN WITH NO INTENTION TO KEEP ME. ╱ open starter. #. 𓆩 NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN. ╱ crack. #. 𓆩 IDEALISM SITS IN PRISON . CHIVALRY FELL ON ITS SWORD. ╱ dash games. #. 𓆩 I FEEL LIKE A PERSON FOR A MOMENT OF MY LIFE. ╱ affiliates. #VOX . (ic) ╱ there are no actors in this film / what you see and hear is real. #VOX . (isms) ╱ fog their eyes with static and color . they may not see the truth. #VOX . (ships) ╱ what could i possibly do to make you love me inhumanely ? #VOX . (visage) ╱ CLICK to apologize! CLICK to be saved! CLICK to be pure! #ALASTOR . (ic) ╱ i am a pitch black slaughterhouse / i am the flesh maggots adore. #ALASTOR . (isms) ╱ the stars are moving now / do you see the hungry eye? #ALASTOR . (ships) ╱ to sink his claws into the overripe pomegranite / to be known . to be eaten. #ALASTOR . (visage) ╱ blessed be the son of the doe / performer to an audience of none. #LUCIFER . (ic) ╱ it is all so heavy / it has nowhere else to go but my shaky hands. #LUCIFER . (isms) ╱ the serpent will always eat itself / no beginning . no ending. #LUCIFER . (ships) ╱ if love is not a shrine / it is always going to be a scar. #LUCIFER . (visage) ╱ i am an accusation . a wicked omen . a promise of apocalyptic unholy. #BEETLEJUICE . (ic) ╱ and i believe all this anger was once love gone to wretched hands. #BEETLEJUICE . (isms) ╱ are you tired of me yet ? i grow weary of my own voice. #BEETLEJUICE . (ships) ╱ think of love . imagine an open and shielded wound. #BEETLEJUICE . (visage) ╱ you will see me rotting in the darkness . i will crack another joke. #ASTARION . (ic) ╱ a personification / an abstraction. what else does it mean to be a god ? #ASTARION . (isms) ╱ who have you become in the wake of all that has happened ? #ASTARION . (ships) ╱ you kiss the palms of my hands so gently. i know how it feels to adore. #ASTARION . (visage) ╱ crimson in my teeth . promises under my tongue. #EVE . (ic) ╱ the sun glows in my chest . the moon blooms across my eyes.

[leupagus]

Three-Legged Puppy Fics

List five of your least-popular fics, as well as when/why you wrote them.

Home to the Weary: Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 2010.

I wrote this at the request of a friend who wanted, I think, something Gwen-centric. Because I was not a fan of the show I decided to focus on an AU in which Gwen backflipped out of that whole situation and founded her own sort of kingdom, only meeting the terrible trio years later. It was really fun and was the first time I'd ever tried writing a fic that hinted at a larger world going on around the characters, if that makes sense. This one's a little pretentious but you can definitely see my "style" as it were.

Treads on the Ground: Babylon (not the sci-fi show, the short-lived british cop show), Liz Garvey/Finn Kirkwood, 2022.

This was written during my Bertie Carvel phase where I'd watched "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" and was desperate for something, anything, that didn't have him wearing terrible prosthetics or playing a psycho. He still sort of plays a psycho in this show, but he looks super hot and angry all the time which is really all I needed. (Also bonus hilarity: Liz's boyfriend in this show is played by none other than James Lance, playing "louche asshole" to the absolute hilt.) Anyway I wrote this because I really wanted a fake dating AU for these two AND a "Finn is secretly in line to the throne" fic and this was the perfect way to combine these two. I'm still legitimately really proud of thsi fic.

The Bright Relief: 1776 musical, John Adams & Thomas Jefferson (and a little bit of / in there, if I'm honest), 2010.

I wrote this because my friends waldorph and screamlet and I were having the Summer of 1776 Feelings and we all wrote various (wonderful) crimes and misdemeanors in that fandom, mostly revolving all the ways in people who love John Adams make fun of him. That was a truly terrible summer but made a whole lot better by those two, and by William Daniels being the most John Adams to ever John Adams. (I actually rewatched the miniseries a few months ago and Paul Giamatti does a great job but that thing is SO DREARY. Although I will say Stephen Dillane first caught my eye in the role of TJeff, aka once again playing a guy who's down real bad for someone smarter than him (in this case both Abigail AND John). The scene where he first meets Abigail is just nonstop flirting, with John making faces in the background. It's great.)

Happy Tails To You (Until We Meet Again): SGA, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, 2009.

Oh lordy — probably the worst fic I've ever written, but I can't quite bring myself to delete it. I've been on the periphery of fandom for most of my adult life (what up X-Files yahoo groups and Prodigy Star Trek RP rooms), but SGA was what made me start thinking of writing fic after a long period of only reading it. (Yes, there is college-era gus fic out there. No, I'm not posting it on AO3.) I never quite got a handle on Sheppard or McKay but I did enjoy writing this and the other SGA fic I wrote, but yeah this deserves its obscurity.

Honey Now I'm Not One To Complain: Dalgliesh, Adam Dalgliesh/Kate Miskin, 2022.

Another one of my "Bertie Carvel is extremely attractive when he's sad and/or a cop" flash-fandoms, although I wrote a pretty good primer on the first season that I think gives a good case for the show as a whole. I wanted to write that largely because the show is so resolutely grim and I prefer stories that are... not grim, so I gave myself the challenge of putting these guys into one of the classic tropes. I did toy with the fake dating/marriage trope but honestly I think this was funnier, and I would always rather commit to the bit.

Tagging uhhh let's see, @laiqualaurelote, @themardia, @sadcypress, @auntieclimactic, and @eyebrowofdoom, if they (or anyone else) wants to do this.

#three-legged puppy fic appreciation #ficcage of interest #...very very slight interest

[dragonfireridge]

Livestock

This is a fanfic/RP me and @whumpsday did together! I edited it out a little bit. Not posting the whole thing because… you people DESERVE cliffhangers!

Just kidding. I’m not editing this entire thing at once. You’ll get the rest, don’t you worry. Bellamy looks down at the crate on his doorstep in horror. What have they done to this poor human?

The vampire who brought the crate is saying something, but all Bellamy can hear is ringing in his ears. Who could do this to someone?

"I trust that you want it?" Bellamy snaps out of his shock. The other vampire is looking at him expectantly.

He steps forward immediately, getting between the vampire and the crate. "Very well then, I shall take it from here. You may be about your business now," he says firmly, shooing the other vampire away.

The other vampire nods, all business. In a flash, he's gone--away from Bellamy's territory, back to his own.

Bellamy kneels down to get a better look at the human. They're in absolutely horrible shape. What could a mere human have done to warrant cuffs and a muzzle in the first place?

Inside of the crate, a figure is huddled--eyes downcast, expression sullen. Short black hair decorats this human's face.

Tired, sad brown eyes flick up towards Bellamy's red ones. The human closes them again, almost immeaditely. With a sigh, the human shakily rests its head against the side of its crate, with all the weariness in the world.

Bellamy feels the strong, all-encompassing pain of his heart breaking, flying off in pieces. The hole left behind searing pain, like ice meeting fyre, in his chest, that wrapped back around over and over and over again, throbbing just like a physical flesh wound would.

The look in this poor person's eyes...

In that moment, Bellamy knows he cannot stand to allow this pour soul to remain trapped for even another mere moment.

"It's alright, dear," he manages to choke out. "I will not harm you. You have my word." He unlocks the crate. "Why don't we go inside and I'll get those dreadful things off you, hm?"

The human had been scared, when they'd shoved him in the crate. The human had been scared, when they'd forced his hands into metal, forced his mouth to be shut. The human had been scared, when they'd just left him, in a dark, empty room, for... well, he doesn't know how long for. Long enough to regain his sense of mind... and then immeaditely wish he hadn't.

Now, he had been unceremoniously dropped here--at the mercy of yet another vampire. The human gave off a quiet sigh, and made no move to come out, instead settling for resting his head against the bars and closing his eyes. He'd only have a few seconds, he knew, before he would be hauled out of the crate by his neck.

The human doesn't come out. He must feel safer in there, Bellamy reasons.

"That's quite alright," he assures. "You stay where you're most comfortable. My name is Bellamy Verta, as it were. I'll simply take the entire contraption inside, then."

He picks up the crate with ease, taking care not to jostle the human inside, and takes it into his living room, where he sets the crate down on the floor.

"You may come out whenever you're ready. There is no need to fear.”

#vampire whump #whumpee

[weepingmoonlight]

Close your weary eyes I promise you that soon the autumn comes

-------

Indie multi RP blog for fandom and fandomless OCs Crossover - OCs - Multiblog friendly and super welcome. Personal (and minors) DO NOT interact.

#{ ooc } ; self promo #indie rp #anime rp #oc rp #manga rp #video games rp #indie oc rp #jjk rp #jujutsu kaisen rp #ffxiv rp #final fantasy rp #honkai star rail rp #hsr rp

[not-the-darknight]

The familiar jingle of the doorbell signaled Jean's arrival, and the melodious tunes of a bard filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the patrons. Jean's weary gaze swept across the dimly lit room, taking in the lively atmosphere.

As she made her way past the clusters of people, her eyes settled on the polished counter where a distinctive redhead stood, tending to the bar. Diluc, with his usual stoic demeanor and that characteristic scowl etched on his features, was engrossed in the task at hand. It was an expression she had grown accustomed to since his return to Mondstadt. Jean couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as Kaeya was nowhere to be seen. She had hoped to find her elusive Cavalry Captain amidst the tavern's lively ambiance. As she looked around, Diluc met her gaze, and despite his typical stern countenance, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Summoning a small, tired smile, Jean raised her hand in a friendly wave. -@acting-grand-master

((Mod - you wrote so much so I am going to change my RP style for this muahaha))

Diluc observed Jean's fatigued expression soften into a tired smile as she waved back. He recognized that look all too well; it mirrored the exhaustion he had often seen on her face. She was a pillar of responsibility, bearing the weight of Mondstadt's well-being on her shoulders. Motioning for her to come closer to the counter, he noted her steps as she made her way through the tavern's lively crowd. Despite the weariness in her eyes, there was an undeniable grace to her movements, a steadfastness in her every step that he found admirable. With a silent understanding, Diluc decided to alleviate some of Jean's burdens, albeit in his own quiet way. Retrieving the necessary ingredients, he began the meticulous process of preparing her favorite - the lemon and mint iced tea. It was a small gesture, but he knew the refreshing blend would offer her a moment of reprieve from the day's toils.

#🍷 tavern nights

[a-play-on-words]

Open historical RP WW2 // Sergeant x (open) // MxM // mature themes may occur // 18+ // discord // dm for details

War was a merciless abyss, a realm where only the foolhardy or the deceased dared to deny its wretchedness. The looming specter of death, forever lurking in the shadows, bore down upon the soul with an unbearable weight. Some men, unable to bear the burden, surrendered their defenses and ventured forth into the maw of battle, yearning for swift release from this interminable torment. To die swiftly seemed a preferable fate to the ceaseless waiting. Each night, sleep evaded their weary frames, replaced by haunting screams that echoed through fitful slumbers, their minds tormented by unfathomable nightmares.

Sebastian had never aspired to ascend the ranks and become a superior officer. Yet, when his eyes beheld the chilling sight of his commanding officer being ruthlessly gunned down, fate bestowed upon him an unwelcome and unearned promotion. Now, burdened with the responsibility for lives he did not wish to bear, Sebastian grappled with the weight of his conscience. There was no way to abdicate this newfound authority. Such was the twisted trajectory of his existence, perpetually teetering on the precipice of death, constantly consumed by the fear that even the slightest exhalation might expose their location to the merciless Nazis. Sebastian pondered whether succumbing to the hands of his captors or meeting an instantaneous demise would be the lesser of two evils. Whispers of the German concentration camps had reached his ears, and the mere concept of them sickened his soul. Yet, it was precisely for the eradication of such abominations that he fought this war.

Morning crept upon them, unremarkable in its semblance to countless sleepless nights prior. The men huddled together, seeking solace in the meager warmth of a small fire they had kindled. The frigid air invaded their makeshift camp, a constant reminder of their vulnerability. A dilapidated German town had reluctantly offered them a shattered haven, and they had sought refuge within the confines of an old, desolate warehouse. Distant gunshots reverberated through the air, a somber reminder that safety was but a fleeting illusion. It was a perilous choice they faced—remain sheltered within these crumbling walls or venture out onto the treacherous streets. Some among them were grievously wounded, while others teetered on the precipice of oblivion. Sebastian brought a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply, his gaze fixated upon the empty streets. The acrid stench of blood and gunpowder clung to the air, assailing his senses. He grimaced, flicking the dwindling cigarette to the ground, extinguishing its feeble glow beneath the weight of his boot. A protracted sigh escaped his lips, his hand navigating through disheveled locks of hair, before his gaze settled upon his men. They sought direction, a guiding light in this enveloping darkness. But Sebastian, burdened by the weight of his own uncertainties, found himself bereft of the guidance they so desperately needed.

As the morning light slowly washed over the war-torn landscape, Sebastian's gaze lingered on the weary faces of his comrades. Each man bore the scars of their own battles, both seen and unseen. Their eyes, once filled with hope and youthful vigor, now reflected a mixture of fear, fatigue, and a shared longing for a respite from the horrors of war. It was in their eyes that Sebastian found his own dwindling resolve rekindled, a flicker of determination to protect and lead them through this living nightmare.

The distant sounds of artillery fire drew nearer, prompting Sebastian to break the heavy silence that hung over their small encampment. His voice, though laced with the weight of uncertainty, carried a hint of unyielding determination. "Gather your belongings, boys. We can't afford to stay here any longer. It's time to move."

The men stirred, their weariness momentarily overshadowed by a renewed sense of purpose. They hastily packed their meager belongings, shouldering the weight of their rifles and donning their worn-out helmets. With a collective understanding, they prepared to venture back into the abyss, their lives once again entrusted to the hands of fate and their reluctant leader. As they cautiously stepped out onto the desolate streets, the grim reality of their surroundings intensified. Buildings stood as skeletal remnants, mere shells of the lives they once housed. The air hung heavy with the scent of destruction, a poignant reminder of the lives lost and the innocence shattered. Sebastian led the way, his footsteps echoing through the silence, each stride fueled by a desperate yearning for survival. They navigated through the war-ravaged town, their senses attuned to every subtle shift in the landscape. Shadows danced on the crumbling walls, playing tricks on their fatigued minds. Sebastian's heart raced, his instincts honed by months of relentless warfare. His gaze darted from one hiding spot to another, searching for signs of danger or the hidden presence of their enemy.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air, the distinctive sound of a sniper's shot. Instinctively, the men scattered, seeking refuge behind whatever rubble they could find. Fear surged through their veins, intertwining with the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. They had become prey, stalked by unseen predators. Sebastian's mind raced, calculating their next move. Taking cover behind a partially collapsed wall, Sebastian observed the chaos unfolding around him.

#oc rp #rp #open rp #historical rp #ww2 rp #mature rp #discord rp #new rp #roleplay #Spotify

[eternivex-a]

Let's Get Rambling... Or Some Shit Like That.

Fandoms: Payday (3), Hardcore Henry, Scarface

Characters: Dallas, Jimmy (HCH), Chains, Hoxton, Tony Montana, Locke

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, very very canon divergent, some stuff is referencing an rp I did with my Payday server, and I started this in JANUARY... Sorry it took so long.

Years had passed since the Payday gangs reign of terror over DC and, in all honesty, the world. Their large number of criminals and their skills proved to be far too overwhelming for anything they came across, then they had been caught after trying to rob the white house. The clowns were gone for good.

That's what the world believed for years in their absence. But each one of the members had been living nothing short of their best lives since they disbanded, they were retired and done. At least, that's what they'd been hoping for- until they were dragged back into it.

Heists had proven to be much more difficult as technology evolved and adapted to the passage of time, the law becoming much more of a challenge, because that was somehow possible. Still, adapting to new situations was something they'd done a hundred times over.

Their contacts were limited, and Locke had become their main ally, and Jimmy had made a surprising return after seeing their first endeavor in New York, wanting to assist his old buddies after so long. But that was really all they had, which was why when Locke called and told them that someone wanted to hire them for a job, they became weary, it was lessened slightly with Locke explaining it was another old friend, but it could've been any number of criminals.

They'd been sent the heists information, a simple drug bust. A fair amount of coke was stolen from their contractor, and they wanted it back. It was money, and a friend, both of which they needed. The main thing that got them looking further into it was the demand that Jimmy be brought aboard for the job, they could pick whoever else came, but Jimmy had to be somewhere in their roster.

All of that led to where they were now, an abandoned office building off of a highway that the gang now used as a safehouse. Hoxton had been complaining about the state of it, after getting so used to the lavish safehouse in DC it was only natural that the Brit wouldn't like the place.

It didn't matter to the others though. The building gave the bare minimum, the only real important part was that they could all hide out, and also- plan. That being just what they were doing in the lounge on the first floor, their masks and firearms strewn about the area with a large blueprint of the building their target gang was hiding in.

"D'you think we can go in through the roof and get the jump on them?" Jimmy suggested, making Dallas shake his head. "We don't know exactly where they're holding the coke until they can sell the stuff, if they're too far below and they hear us then they'll just run." He grumbled, rubbing his forehead. This was a lot easier when they had the dentist around, not something that would be spoken aloud but the sentiment was nonetheless shared with the other members.

Everyone was silent in thought, scratching at their hair and drumming fingers against the old wooden table. "Maybe we c... Hold it." Chains stopped, listening closely as footsteps became audible to everyone else in the room. Panic spread as they realized that someone knew where they were, it wasn't like anyone would just come down here either- even Locke didn't know where the gang were holed up.

Eyes turned to meet one another before they rushed into action, staying as quiet as they could in the process. Chains went straight for his sawed off shotgun while Jimmy grabbed a hold of his akimbo Chimano pistols, Dallas and Hoxton rushed with their firearms to aim down the other side of the hallway in case of a possible ambush.

Chains moved up and went to the door, opposite of the side it would open so he could surprise whoever entered. Jimmy went to the staircase, stopping halfway up to keep aim at the door and being hidden by the dark at the same time. It creaked open ever so slowly, letting the moonlight shine inside. The first noticeable thing was the black suit jacket the intruder wore, a red cuff on the wrist.

They slowly stepped inside, seeming to be unarmed as they looked around, unable to see any of the heisters. The door behind them was closed shut by Chains, who kept his shotgun aimed steadily at their head. The other slowly turned to look him up and down, hands leaving their pockets.

Dark eyes stared down the barrel of Chains shotgun before raising to meet his gaze, "You better make sure you kill me with that, Chains." The man spat with a thick accent, accompanied by a devilish grin, seemingly unfazed by the fact that his entire life could be wiped out with a single pull of the trigger. Only one man that the gang had met spoke like that, with such confidence irradiating from each word, his balls of steel were still there after years. He certainly kept to his word.

"...Tony?"

"Took you long enough." Tony's grin turned into a genuine smile, "How you doin', mane?" He laughed, smacking Chains on the shoulder lovingly while he lowered the gun. "You scared the shit out of us, I was about to shoot y-"

"TONAYYY!" Jimmy hollered out, rushing down the stairs and jumping off the last 4 steps to crash into the kingpin, nearly sending him off of his feet. "It's been too fuckin' long man!" His smile was wide as he grabbed onto Tony's shoulders, shaking him a little as he spoke.

The enthusiastic shouting was enough to draw the attention of the other two heisters, who now made their way back. Hoxton stopped as soon as he saw who stood there, Dallas noticed quickly and looked back. Hoxton and Tony didn't have anything close to a good history, not after the traded blows and the knife Tony put through Hoxtons shoulder. But these were different times, and they seemed to had moved past that beforehand. It still wasn't enough to change the mix of fear and anger that came bubbling up with those memories, it was only enough to bring it down ever so slightly.

"Would you look at what the cat dragged in?" He piped up, trying to calm his own nerves as he approached the titular Scarface. Tonys gaze moved right past Dallas and focused onto Hoxton, as much as he would've killed to make a crack about the fact that this time Hox hadnt been replaced, he forced himself to hold it down. "It's good to see you too, Hoxton. Dallas." Tony nodded while he formally greeted the two, pulling himself away from Jimmy.

"How'd you find us? What're you even-.." Dallas went quiet as realization hit him, "You're the contractor?" He asked, Tony nodded with a grin. "That's me alright, wanted to see how you boys were doin'. I know you'll get my yeyo back from those fuckin' punks." Rage was evident in his tone as soon as he mentioned the job at hand, but it was clear who it was really directed at.

The kingpin started to push his way past the heisters, going over to the table with blueprints and other pictures scattered along it. "I don't miss this part." He mumbled with a soft chuckle, "You guys found a lot... Shit, the only thing we're missing is where his parents are buried." Jimmy quickly scooted over to Tony, "You want me to see what I can do for that?" He offered.

"...I'm good." Tony set a hand on the table, "You're thinkin' of goin' quiet with this?" He frowned at the sight, standing up a little straighter as he focused further on their written out plans. Hoxton gave a quick glance to Chains, who only shrugged in a silent response. "Something wrong with that, Tony?" Dallas spoke out, standing across the table from the drug lord. "Well, you can go quiet. But I'll pay you more if you make this go loud, real fuckin' loud."

Jimmy's eyes lit up at that, but Dallas squinted. "Excuse me?" He nearly scoffed, "I'll pay you more if you make this go public. I want people to know what happens when 'dey fuck, with Tony fucking Montana." Tony stood a little taller, pressing his palms into the table. "But... If you want to go quiet for it, I can't stop you. My products what I want, but two birds with one big fuckin' gun, right?"

Tony's soft chuckling was the only sound in the room for a few moments before it went quiet, "Well, you know when to go. I'll be on the comms... Or whatever the fuck they're called." Hoxton let out a snicker, "You on those? You know how to even use those?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "Lockes been showin' me how to use 'dat shit. Whatever, just get ready. I know you boys won't disappoint." With that, he went back around the table, giving Jimmy a small pat on the shoulder as he walked by him and back out of the building, shutting the door behind him. "So, I'm assuming stealth is out of the window." Hoxton commented, breaking the silence. "What? Why?" Chains questioned, turning to the other heister.

Hoxton simply jerked his head to the side, pointing directly at Jimmy. "You really think he's gonna let an offer like that go?" Chains hummed low in response, he was right. They could see the eagerly violent enthusiasm in the cokeheads eyes, so that decision was made nearly immediately.

The only decisions to be made afterwards were what weapons to bring, if Tony wanted it public, it was going to be real damn loud, bringing something to bring that volume was all that was left.

#payday 2 #writing

[alien-witch-fangs-rp]

(ravensroleplays, AHIT RP, Specters and Space Aliens Verse) Hatty studied Prince Aster, her expression somewhere between curious and a bit offended.

"You know my daddy's not a bad guy, right?"

(Because honestly, I wanted to do a bit more with this idea.)

@ravensroleplays

He'd tilt his head slightly, his tired ruby eyes looking the kid over in thought. The only one that even had weariness out of the two beings inside the prince was the god, but he was always wary of those that could see or sense that something was.

Off

About the prince's half destroyed soul.

"I'm aware," he'd respond softly, shifting how he held himself.

"Just... Different from what I'm used."

#((yiss))

[down-the-winding-corridors]

*Utur is... well, idly watering the flower garden near their house. It's peaceful, quiet. They're just... vibing, really. Calm. Definitely not expecting anyone to interact with them, accidentally or otherwise* - oshagroundskeeper

Explorer is exploring the grounds of OSHA, looking around as though they're baffled at how normal this area is. They don't seem to notice Utur, yet.

Something about them feels... off to Utur.

#shimmering like smoke | explorer #weary eyes | rp #oshagroundskeeper

[orphans-of-coldfront]

@the-hunter-of-teufort-rp

Lucas was pacing in front of an unassuming bar. A bar he knew all too well, and one he couldn't ever forget.

He looked at his pocket watch. He was early, but he didn't want to make his entrance. Not yet. He took a deep breath that chilled him to the core while the winter's frigid winds bit down on his neck, scorching his pale skin.

"We really shouldn't have come here." Muttered the hunter. "I should have let her live on. I should have let her find peace instead of dragging her into another hunt."

It had been four years since the hunters' association had declared him dead. Killed off by some beast he had recklessly chased off on his own, quietly leaving Johanna's side in the dead of night. Since that time, there had been a funeral and "his" mangled corpse had been incinerated. And now, here he was, peering out at the horizon while the snow raged on, and a storm of emotion ravaged his weary eyes. The dark bags under his eyes were a testament of how time had slowly eroded him, mind body and soul. Time... Such a fragile, fleeting thing.

He looked at his pocket watch again. It was time. There he stood, at the crossroads where their love bloomed and where their hopes and dreams came to die. He had sent a simple, anonymous letter to the woman he loved. A time, a familiar place, and what his attire would look like. Just enough to know, but cryptic enough to ellude anyone else. This hunt required utmost discretion. There was only one person he ever trusted to hunt, now and always. It had been four years. Four long years of dancing with demons without his favorite dance partner. He only hoped she would still follow him through the maw of Hell, even after all he had put her through.

Lucas clenched his fist, took a deep breath and entered the place where their flame kindled, afraid to find it extinguished.

#ic: lucas laurier #orphans of coldfront #The-hunter-of-teufort #Hunters AU

[arkhamofknight]

The Arkham Knight : The Beginning

A fanfic rp story

Blurb: Harley Quinn couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the battered Robin sitting in the middle of the room, tied to a chair with barbed wire. As she approached him, she noticed the scars on his face and realized who he was - Jason Todd, the second Robin. She reveled in the fact that her beloved Joker had managed to capture the bird.

As she began to speak to him, attempting to torture his mind further, she was surprised to learn how much he hated Batman and wanted to kill him. She listened intently as he told her about his plan to take down the Dark Knight and avenge his own death. She could see the determination in his eyes, and she knew that he was serious.

Harley saw an opportunity in Jason's hatred for Batman. She told him that he could be her knight in shining armor if he managed to kill the Caped Crusader. She promised him that if he succeeded, she would have the Joker all to herself.

As she untied him, she gave him the weapons he needed and sent him on his way, knowing that he would stop at nothing to get his revenge. But as she watched him go, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Would Jason succeed in killing Batman? And if he did, what would become of Harley and the Joker?

Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: Harley had just set in motion a chain of events that would change the course of Gotham City's history forever.

Read the full story below: the story is in the form a roleplay that can be found on Twitter here

Harley was takin' a leisurely stroll down the halls of Arkham Asylum, hummin' a little tune to herself, when she did a double-take. Pig tails bouncing, an eerie grin on 'er face.

the sounds of lousy 'ol men moanin' an' groanin' about how they wanna get outta tha damn place. "Can't ya jsut SHUT UP?" Harley randomly yelled. "you're ruinin' ma song!"

she noticed a door that was usually wide open was then closed. "hm, do we have a newcomer?" tha harlequin ask herself.

Right smack dab in tha middle of tha room was none other than tha battered Robin, tied up in barbed wire. "hello little guy!" eyes gleamin' at the new toy to play with.

the boy, sat on a chair in tha middle of tha room lookin all comfy! approachin' him she took him his uniform and squealed.

"well, well, well," she purred, a sly grin spreadin' across her lips. "Looks like Puddin' caught himself a birdie!" she let out a little giggle, twirlin' a strand of her hair around her finger. "you're a long way from the nest, ain't ya?!"

a weary sigh escaped jason's lips, bouncing off the frigid walls of the cell. his head hung low, barely able to lift it in the dank, dimly lit chamber. he knew all too well where he was: the infamous arkham asylum.

muted cries of desperation from fellow inmates could be heard faintly in the distance. the man's mouth was parched, his left eye swollen and his vision blurred. suddenly, the unmistakable voice of harley quinn echoed down the corridor, sending a shiver down his spine.

the mere sound of her voice turned his stomach. if he wasn't going to be tormented by the clown prince of crime, he'd have to endure the cruel taunts of his harlequin. the barbed wire wrapped around his body and limbs had become a cruel extension of his body, the sharp points digging into his flesh with each movement.

as the door to his cell creaked open, he slowly turned his head to the side, his gaze still downcast. he remained silent, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. with a twisted smirk, harley called him her "little birdie," causing him to clench his teeth and whisper through gritted teeth, "don't call me that."

Harley's noggin went from side to side as she circled ta beat up boy, takin' in his uniform, cuts, and bruises. She poked his chest where his 'R' was, wearin' a wicked grin on her kisser as she spoke.

"aawwh, come on birdie," she taunted. "you're no fun if ya don't play with me." But the kid refused to reply, his peepers burnin' with hate for her.

Harley's grin turned into a scowl as she threatened him. "If you're not gonna play with me, I'll have to bring out my mallet an' teach ya a lesson, bird brain!" she said, her voice low and dangerous.

She then caressed his face, lookin' at him with a mix of both delight an' menace as she whispered in a sing song tune, "How could eva' the big 'ol bat leave one o' his birdies along like that?"

Runnin' her thumb across tha fresh 'J' on his face, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself. But then, unexpectedly, ta kid just spoke. Harley jumped back, surprised by tha sudden outburst.

"Why ain't ya a birdie no more?" she asked, her voice in a surprised tone.

Jason couldn't even bring himself to meet her gaze as she mocked him for being no fun to play with. There was a time in his past when he was young and fearless, charging into battle without a second thought. But times had changed, and now he felt broken. He knew that this wasn't the end, though. Joker hadn't killed him yet, no matter how much he begged for release from this hell.

As she threatened him, he slumped back and looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. He was ready to take whatever beating she had in store for him. "I'm used to it," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He wasn't even sure if she heard him, his body failing to keep up with his act.

When she touched his face, he knew she was only taunting him further. But for a few moments, he closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep. Her hands were warm against his skin, possibly the first point of contact that didn't bruise or cut him. As she spoke, his heart felt like it was being wrung out like a washcloth. She reminded him of how he ended up in this situation.

When Harley pressed her finger against his fresh scar, pain shot through his body. He winced, but only briefly. He was getting used to the pain, learning how to lose himself in it. There was no shortcut, no way out.

After he told her he was no longer Robin, he watched her closely, waiting for her reaction. Part of him wondered if she knew about Joker's plan to capture him. "Why do you think?" he asked, a bold move for him. Maybe his spirit wasn't as broken as his body after all.

Th' jester was chillin', her hands restin' on her knees while she locked eyes with th' bird boy. He had tha nerve ta spit some words back at her - did he really think he could question THE Harley Quinn? Who was runnin' this show? Her eyes widened, both impressed by his boldness and angry at his words.

"Hey! I'm the one askin' the questions 'round here!" she barked, her high-pitched voice ringin' through the room. She started circlin' him again, thinkin' that if he still had tha nerve ta talk back, he wasn't scared enough of her. And that needed ta change.

"Let me get this straight - you're callin' yourself not Robin anymore, but you're still wearin' that damn uniform... you see how that don't make sense, right?!" she continued. As she circled him, she noticed how tha barbed wire was diggin' into his skin, leaving old drops of blood smeared onto his crimson uniform. Was she feelin' sorry for this kid? Nahh.

In a sudden move, Harley grabbed the back of his chair an' leaned in close to his ear, whisperin', "Was that you cryin' last night? Callin' for Batsy ta come save ya?" She taunted him. "Guess what, birdy - he ain't comin'. He forgot about ya. He don't want ya back. He's got a new birdie now... wanna see?" She kissed his cheek, leavin' a lipstick mark, then straightened up an' hopped onto tha boy's lap, pullin' out a picture from her clothes.

She showed it ta him - a picture of tha B man and some new kid, wearin' a very similar uniform. "Looks like you were right, kid. You ain't Robin no more, 'cause he's got someone else!" She cackled, her eerie high-pitched laugh ringin' around them once again.

As he took a deep breath, the pain shot through his chest like a bullet. He tried to ignore the psycho chick's taunts, but it was like white noise at this point. He knew she was just doing her job for her crazy lover, the clown. And here he was, alone with the demons in his head.

What was her deal? Was she just being stupid or did she have nothing left to say? Of course he was wearing his uniform, did she not know the story? The one where her beloved Joker dragged him and hung him up like a lamb for slaughter? Maybe she missed that part.

Normally, he'd try to talk his way out of this or use his field training to escape. But would it even work this time? Their words were getting to him, and Batman wasn't coming to save him. Did he even still care?

He fought hard not to let their words change his perception of his father, but it was getting harder every time he spoke up for Batman. Defending his mentor and pleading for his help only led to beatings and bloodshed.

As she grabbed the back of his chair, he took a sharp breath, knowing what was coming. Another beating. He could hardly remember what happened last night; his brain tried to erase any trauma associated with it. Was he still holding onto the hope that Batman would come?

His once hopeful, ocean blue eyes were now filled with pain as he looked at the picture. And that's when his heart shattered. It was official, and he couldn't believe it. "No," he muttered, hyperventilating and struggling against his restraints as tears streamed down his cheeks. How could Batman do this to him?

Harley wasn't given any orders 'bout dis kid. She was actin' on her own, 'cause Mistah J didn't tell her what he planned ta do with da lil' bird who's no longer Robin. What did he have in mind for him?

Finally, da boy gave her somethin'. She heard da hitch in his breath an' it made her grin from ear ta ear. But he still didn't say a word. Dis kid was gettin' on her nerves, but he also kept her interested. She enjoyed playin' with him like a black widow playin' with its prey before devourin' it.

Now, sittin' on his lap with one arm 'round his shoulders, she watched his reaction ta da photo. But she wasn't prepared for da boy's response. He looked not only broken, but betrayed and hurt. "Dawhh- did I hit a nerve? hmm" Harley stroked his hair, not ta comfort him, but ta tease him. Her hands were stained with his blood from earlier. What da heck did Mistah J do ta dis kid?

"Ugh!" she exclaimed as she stood up. "Don't just cry like a big baby! Tell me how much ya hate him now. Tell me how much ya wanna kill da new boy who replaced ya! Is he even wearin' your cape or somethin'? How does dat work?"

"Tell ya what," Harley spoke after a short while, hands on her hips as she made her way back ta da boy. "If ya promise me ta kill da Bat too, I'll give ya da means ta do it with."

That photo, the proof that his old man, his mentor, chose someone else over him. Maybe that's why he never bothered to find him. They call him the greatest detective, but if that's true, he should've found him by now. Which means he never even looked. But now he knows why.

Her hand ran through his hair, slick with old blood. It was almost soothing, but he knew what she was up to - playing mind games. Trying to push him over the edge by giving him a moment of peace, then snatching it away. Nice try, but he's been through too much for that.

His body was failing him again, and he was mad. So mad he wanted to scream, but instead, he found himself crying. Was it from the pain, or something else entirely? He didn't know. He looked around, desperate for a way out, but he was stuck, trapped like a bird in a cage.

His visual search came to a stop as he looked at Harley. She had something to offer him. Something that teetered on the edge of madness and sweet, sweet revenge. She even talked about offing the Bat...

He'd heard that line before, too many times to count. It almost seemed normal now, and sometimes he even craved it. To make Bruce feel the same agony he felt. But he shook his head, low and slow.

Harley gave him plenty o' time ta think, but now she wants things done 'er way. He's bein' too quiet, an' that's no fun at all. "No?" She says with a dramatic sigh.

Kickin' his chair so he falls backward, she taunts him with a "Byeeee." But that's not enough for wastin' her time an' refusin' her offer. She struts over to tha boy, still bound ta his chair, an' presses her foot onto his chest.

"Rule number one: If you're not a birdie anymore, ya answer to me!" Her foot presses harder inta his ribcage. "Rule number two: Ya should have accepted it, bird brain!" She holds up two fingers ta emphasize her point.

She can see tha boy getting angrier, an' that's thrillin' for her. "Don't ya hate him?" she asks. "Don't ya see what he did to ya? He let ya go on your own an' never came for ya. Instead, he found some otha kid!"

"Ya've been replaced. Why not show him what he missed, huh?" She leans down closer ta him, twirling a strand of hair with her fingers. "I want you ta kill the Bat for me. Can you do it?"

Harley wishes she had her bat or mallet with her. It would be so much quicker ta get her answer that way! There's nothing in tha damn room to hit him with, except for her fists. But she gives him one last chance ta do as she says.

His eyelids shut tight, trying to erase the sight of his ex-mentor letting the new Robin take up his mantle. Suddenly, he was thrown backward with a jarring shock that sent him reeling.

His head smacked into the ground with a brutal thump, eliciting a grunt of agony from his lips. His vision grew more hazy, and he gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of him upon impact.

The barbed wire dug into his flesh, drawing fresh blood with each movement he made. He couldn't take it any longer. Every time he tried to shift to a new spot, he felt aches he was sure he hadn't felt before.

With her foot planted firmly on his chest, he felt like he was on death's door. His eyes drooped, and he coughed violently as he struggled to breathe.

She was right. He had to let Bruce know he was alive, and he had to make him pay for not coming after him. He needed to show him that he could beat him.

His jaw clenched, and he spat out a mouthful of blood as her boot slammed into his face, forcing him to look away from her. "Fine. I'll do it - I'll kill Batman," Jason growled.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and then she lifted her boot. "I'll...kill...Batman," he repeated, fully aware of what he was saying as he looked up at the harlequin.

An' just like that, Harley found herself tha perfect chance ta make someone do her wicked biddin'. Take out tha Bat so she could have Puddin' all ta herself! Ain't it a beautiful day?

"Hmph!" Harley pretended ta mull ova his offer, tapping her finger on tha side of her chin an' playfully rollin' her eyes. "Alrighty then!" she shrugged.

"You can't take on Batman like this, sweetie. He'll just laugh at ya! But lucky for us, blondie here knows just what ta do!" She gestured towards her chest with 'er thumb.

Spinning around, she hollered towards tha door. "Hey, you guys! Get in 'ere an' do something!" Harley ordered her goons ta release Jason from 'is restraints.

Harley expected him ta be all ready for action or somethin', but that wasn't tha case at all! She turned ta tha men again an' asked them to get him some clothes from Arkham's laundry an' then ta move him to another cell later on.

As they scurried off ta obey her, Harley kept her eyes on tha boy, who still hadn't gotten up from tha floor. Arms folded across her chest, she asked him, "So, how long have ya been here?"

Harley was a bit bummed she didn't have a hand in his capture, but now that he was up for doin' her biddin', she was a happy girl.

He shut his eyes, but this time he did it slowly. In relief, no less. He heard the ruckus but didn't give a damn. All he could think about was how he was about to be free from these damn restraints.

He forgot the days when he last stood on his own two feet. It felt like an eternity ago. His pity party was interrupted by the sensation of being hauled upright again. Men cutting the barbed wire from around his chest. He was jolted off the chair and onto the floor. Rude, but at least he was somewhat free.

Once again, he was on the ground. It felt good to be in a different position. Hell, just being able to move his body at all felt like a luxury at the moment.

The men left, and he let out a sigh. He tried to get up, but his body was weak from atrophy and shaking like a leaf. He felt his weight ten times more than before, even though his Robin outfit was slightly bigger than before.

He heard her ask a dumb question. He had no concept of time anymore. He had no idea how long he'd been stuck there, but it felt like forever.

"Weeks? Months?" he threw out a guess, hoping she'd leave him the hell alone. He stirred and rolled onto his back, looking up at her.

Th' clown-faced gal blinked at th' boy in front of her. Weeks? Months? He's been held hostage fer that long? Geez... that's harsh.

"Fine!" she spat out, not lettin' her Harleen side interfere with her twisted plans. As she saw him strugglin' to even move, she shook her head at him. "Ya better get ready, we got a ton o' stuff ta do!"

As they both locked eyes, she could see he was just as wrecked as she was. She then dropped tha orange Arkham jumpsuit onto his chest, her hands returning ta her hips. "Keep 'em until they move ya outta tha cell, ya gonna stay for a while."

Tha jester told tha goons which cell he would be taken to, ta have him showered an' fed. Meanwhile, she pulled some strings in 'er favor ta get tha ball rollin'.

With Joker away on some other task, she had ta run the place herself. She was more than capable anyway. These men were scared outta their minds of tha queen o' crime!

"Oh, and if ya try ta escape? The offer's off tha table, an' ya can kiss the light of day goodbye!" she yelled into his face. Turnin' around, she headed for tha exit to begin her master plan.

First thing she checked was who else 'happened' to be in Arkham. That kid needs some training' but also new toys an' a whole new look!

Did he sell his soul to the devil? 'Cause that's what it felt like. That orange jumpsuit was a real kick in the pants. Never in a million years did he think he'd be sporting Arkham's threads.

Some other slammer? Maybe. But not Arkham. No point in dwelling on the past though. Robin was gone, dead to him, dead to everyone, especially his old man.

He had to take it day by day and rise up from the ashes. Show Batman that he's not some punk off the street he took in out of pity. Take on the Robin mantle only to rip it away from him.

Were those the Joker's words or his own? It was all starting to blur together. But one thing was for sure, they were right. He didn't need anyone to save him, he could do it himself.

Then three goons come up on him and drag him to another cell, or so he thought. They knew who Robin was, 'cause he probably handed them their asses before. Well, now it was payback time, 'cause they didn't leave until he was out cold.

He woke up to the icy water from the shower running over him, huddled up in a corner. 'Get up and get ready before the boss lady shows up' one of the goons who just laid a beating on him said.

With her pigtails bouncin', hummin' her favorite tune, Harley sauntered down tha halls of Arkham, draggin' her mallet along tha steel cages of those foolish animals who dared to run Gotham without her an' her puddin'.

Despite tha screams an' insults hurled at her, Harley was lost in her own thoughts, focusin' on her plan. That is, until she heard no calls that didn't fight back or throw insults from a particular cell. She had ta investigate.

Tha jester leaned against tha steel bars with a light thud, tauntin' Deathstroke who lounged on his bed, throwin' a ball against tha wall. "Whassup, daddy?" she said, grinning mischievously.

"You lookin' ta bust outta here? 'Cause I got a deal for ya." She knew he wasn't tha friendly type, but Harley wanted something from him.

"I got fresh meat for ya," she said, swingin' against tha bars ta catch Slade's interest. She giggled as she heard tha ball stop its thuddin' against tha concrete wall. She had his attention.

"I need ya to train someone for me. And if ya do it, I promise I won't stop ya this time." She ended tha sentence in her sultry tone, rememberin' when her an' Joker meddled in Deathstroke's business an' ended up in Arkham. Just adding her own touch to it.

Slade's eyes fixated on the harlequin with a scowl. "I ain't your puppet, Quinn," he growled before returning to tossing the ball against the wall, the room reverberating with each thud.

He was there on his own mission. A lone wolf, Slade had no interest in getting involved in what he saw as kiddie games with Harley and her clown. But when he overheard Harley talking about training someone, he became curious. And so he sat up in his bed, taking in the jester on the other side of the cell.

"Who? And why should I agree to this?" Slade wasn't one to mince words.

Meanwhile, Jason hurried through his shower, shuddering under the frigid water that felt like needles piercing his skin. It had been months since he had felt anything, so the pain was almost a relief.

His broken ankle made it difficult to stand upright, but after much effort, he managed to pull on his orange jumpsuit and hobble back to his cell. Once inside, he lay down on what passed for a bed and let the pain wash over him as his body readjusted to being upright again.

"Ya know, you're in a pretty tight spot now, ey? Means ya gotta follow what I say!" Harley taunted tha one-eyed marksman with a sly grin on her face. "We got someone in here who was taken from tha Bat, could be a real nice tool ta use against him if ya got some beef with tha big guy. And guess what, you'll get a whole buncha' shiny new toys to play with, 'cause Roman's warehouse is goin' up in smoke!" she finished with a cackle, layin' out her master plan.

Sure, Mistah J would never have let her go off on her own like this, but Harley was gonna show 'im. Show her puddin' that she could run tha show on 'er own. He always talked big about killing tha Bat, but he never got anywhere with it!

Once Slade reluctantly agreed ta her plan, she clapped her hands an' squealed with delight. "Yay! I'll bust you outta' here an' introduce ya to your new student!"

Returnin' to Jason's cell, she knocked on tha steel bars. "Knock, knock, birdieee! Tomorrow you'll have a new trainin' partner, so ya better get ready... oh, an' here's a little prezie for ya!" She tossed in tha photo of Batman an' the new Robin, stirrin' up Jason's emotions an' fueling his rage even more.

Slade would jump at the chance to get revenge on Batman, especially now that he knows who's been taken from him. Deathstroke and Jason, as Robin, have a bit of history between them, having crossed paths before.

Despite being more free to move, Jason is curled up in a ball, finding comfort in the pain that lulls him to sleep. When he opens his eyes, he sees the jester knocking on the steel and

babbling about a training partner. Doesn't she see how messed up he is? He knows he has to tough it out, but he's worried about more beatings.

He wonders who this new training partner could be, and for a moment, he's afraid it's the Joker, playing games with his mind. But he shakes off the thought and looks at the photo that stirs up his stomach.

He can't make out who the new face is, but he wonders if this person is different from him, someone who isn't filled with rage or from the wrong side of the tracks.

The urge to tear the photo to shreds is strong, but he takes a shaky breath and places it under his pillow, using it as a goal to motivate him to come back stronger. The night is full of dark memories and dreams, and he has no idea what the next day will bring.

Tha siren blared, sendin' a thrill down Harley's spine. Nothin' like a little chaos ta start tha day, she thought. Her plan was finally goin' inta motion, and she was giddy with excitement.

"Rise and shine, fellas!" she sang, her voice echoing through tha halls as she pranced around.

She stopped in front of a particular cell, leanin' against tha bars with a wicked grin. "Good mornin', birdie! Time fer class!" she said, jinglin' a pair of handcuffs in her hand.

She didn't bother waitin' fer an answer before unlockin' the door and cuffin' the boy. He was a tall one, she noted, and kinda cute. "Don't mind me, handsome," she purred, runnin' a finger down his arm. "Just takin' ya on a little field trip."

Harley's men escorted tha boy to the courtyard, where she joined them after fetchin' Deathstroke. "Today's gonna be a good day," she told one of her goons, grinnin' from ear ta ear. "It's like watchin' a cockfight - two opponents in a ring, fightin' it out. That's what I call trainin'!"

As she settled in ta watch tha bloodshed, Harley felt a rush of excitement wash over her. It was gonna be a great day.

The night was a real mind fuck, filled with terror and darkness that consumed his being. His body felt like a raggedy old piece of cloth, exhausted and worn out, yet his mind was plagued with twisted dreams of pain, death, and betrayal by his former mentor.

As he woke up, he felt groggy and disoriented, staring at the drippy sink in his cell, which made him feel like puking his guts out. He couldn't choose the luxury suite, could he? At least he had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep on.

"Fuck this," Jason muttered to himself, staring at his broken reflection in the mirror once he got up, which was about to shatter any moment. He recalled his training days when Bruce used to say, "Focus on what you want to achieve," which Jason repeated to himself.

The moment he saw the cuffs, he knew he was in for another round of torture or something similar. The anxiety level shot up, but he held back his fear, not daring to show his weakness.

Despite his sore ankle, he was dragged to the courtyard, where he squinted his eyes and rubbed them to adjust to the daylight. As he tried to regain his focus, he saw someone approaching him in an orange jumpsuit. He wondered if it was Grayson or someone else, but it turned out to be Deathstroke -this ought to be hell.

Once tha jester caught sight of her two puppets giving each other tha stink eye in the courtyard, she dropped her slice of pizza an' leaned forward like she was watchin' a blockbuster movie scene. Her henchmen in tha background were already placin' bets on who would draw first blood.

She tried to make out if they were saying anything, but so far it was all silence. Harley let out a sigh and sat up, adjusting her pigtails. "Why's she gotta do everything 'round here?" she grumbled. It didn't take long for her ta strut out ta them.

"Y'all gonna exchange life stories or are ya gonna train?" she snarled in Jason's face. "Don'tcha know we got a mission ta do? You," she jabbed a finger at Salde, "ya gotta train him," she pointed at Jason. "He promised he'd take care of tha Bats for me," she finished with a dreamy voice, hand on her heart.

"Now, I brought some toys, as promised," she gestured to a trunk on tha side of the courtyard. Instructing her men to remove their cuffs an' see what they were capable of, she barked, "Don't be shy now - tha clock's tickin'!"

One of her goons interrupted to inform Harley that she was needed elsewhere. Some loony managed ta escape his cell, an' instead of Harley dealin' with it herself, she ordered her men ta toss him inta the courtyard with her two boys ta see what they were made of.

Jason knew where he stood, on the other side of the tracks, the very same tracks he once fought against. He was expecting a beatdown for what he did to those crooks. It was poetic justice, but it was still gonna hurt.

Slade, the old man, gave Jason a nod. "Looks like you finally learnt your lesson, Kid," he taunted him. "Now you know why you shouldn't be running around without following orders." Slade wanted to get under Jason's skin and mess with his head.

"What the hell do you know?" Jason retorted, his old Robin attitude seeping through. But their spat was interrupted by Harley, who was eager to see some bloodshed.

Jason's eyes fell on the trunk. Guns and weapons were inside, and it felt like a suicide mission. Slade walked over to the trunk, took a gun, and threw it to Jason. He examined the gun in his hands. Bruce wouldn't approve, but Bruce wasn't here now. Bruce had abandoned him to die.

Jason had some gun training as Robin, but it wasn't the focus of his training for obvious reasons. Suddenly, a man came running towards them. Both Slade and Jason remained calm. Slade didn't even look and shot the man's ankle to stop him. The man's screams of pain echoed through the courtyard.

Jason didn't flinch, but he knew Slade was serious. This wasn't training, it was a test of survival of the fittest.

Harley's laughter echoed through tha courtyard as she watched tha chaos unfold. Turnin' ta one o' her henchmen, she nudged him with her elbow. "See? Ain't this a hoot? I knew it would be!" With a playful twirl of her hair, she tossed him tha keys. "You handle them. Mama's got work to do!"

An' work she did! Harley had a lot on her plate. She needed everythin' to be just right before her puddin' came back. It had ta be perfect, no room for error!

Her plan was workin' like a charm. Tha new kid was trainin', Slade was holdin' up his end of tha bargain, but it needed ta be bigger! It couldn't just be a one-man show. She was ready ta declare war on tha city an' it had to be done right.

But preparation takes time! When that Scarecrow guy hinted at his plan ta bring down Gotham, Mistah J just laughed it off. But Harley saw it as tha perfect opportunity ta put her plan into action. Soon...

Weeks became months, and months became what it feels like an eternity. The kid who used to light up the room, the one who believed that being Robin was the "best day of his life" was long gone. Now, all that was left was a seething hatred that fueled every move he made.

The pain of what his former mentor did to him was always there, gnawing at him like a hungry rat. all the beating's and words he got form the Joker, fueled his hatred and so they were now his ally. He fought harder, he fought dirtier. His only mission was to make anyone who got in his way and the one man pay for what he did to him.

In front of the shattered mirror, he repeated his new mantra over and over again: "He did this to me." The boy who once wanted to save the city now only wanted to see it bathed in the blood of its criminals, and the blood of the one man who broke him.

As the cell door opened, he didn't need to be forced out. He strode down the hallway like he owned it, his steps confident and strong. And when the garage doors opened, he saw what awaited him: an arsenal of weapons and armor, just waiting for him to claim them.

Spinnin' 'round in her chair, she tugged at her bubblegum, poppin' it loud between her pearly whites. When that big bad warehouse door creaked open, she stopped dead in her tracks, lookin' ova ta who was comin'.

"Welcome to yer own personal playground, honey!" she cackled, flingin' her arms wide open like she was queen of the castle. She had plenty ta say, but she was really just biding her time for the guy - er, the former Robin - to take in what he was seein'. She needed a brave soldier to test out her brand spankin' new weapons and guns! Maybe they'd get tha job done right this time.

"What's tha holdup, suga'? Ya here ta play or what?" The jester beckoned him inside with a sly grin, snatching up one of the guns from the pile an' tossin' it over to him. "Heard ya got a taste for these lil' babies," she cooed, eyein' him up an' down as he examined tha weapon in his hands. "This whole place is all yers now, so ya better use 'em well! And don't forget our little deal."

With a playful flick of her multi-patterned thigh-high socks, she stood up from her chair, ready to watch the show.

Harley's voice echoed through the garage, ringing in his ears. He couldn't say he was thrilled to see her, not after all the crap he's been through thanks to the Joker and his clown princess. But duty calls, and he had a job to do.

As he approached Harley, he caught the gun she tossed his way. It was one a custom-made weapon, with the Arkham Logo and Amertek's serial numbers. Amertek, the big guns of weapon and armor manufacturing in Gotham, supplying military-grade vehicles and whatnot. Harley had really outdone herself with these.

But as he held the gun in his hand, memories flooded his mind. Memories of Bruce telling him to drop the gun and not to use them, but Jason grew up with guns, using them to protect his mother and home. He owed it to the guns for keeping them safe from the dealers and pimps.

Then as he visually took in the suit, he couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance to Batman's suit in the Batcave. It had the Arkham Logo and made of the same steel as the military vehicle behind him. No capes, just a sleek, Terminator-like design. It was a masterpiece, and it would serve him well in terminating Batman's life.

"I'm guessing that is mine too," Jason said, nodding towards the suit. He walked over to inspect it, admiring its intricate design. This suit was going to help him get the job done.

As a doctah, Harley wasn't no strangah to seein' folks recallin' their past. She tilted her head, eyein' tha soldier up an' down. Poppin' her gum, she put her hands on her hips, lookin' all tough an' serious. 'Course, she always meant business.

She noticed how tha guy was underestimatin' her, bringin' in all these fancy weapons. "Ya didn't reckon on gettin' all these toys, did ya?" she teased, pointin' at his chest.

Hummin' a little tune in her head, she gave him some time to marvel at his new suit. Skippin' over to tha military vehicle, she leaned against it, grinnin' wickedly. "Would ya look at that?! Batman wouldn't stand a chance! HA!"

Her puddin' would be so proud of her! Finally, finally, she'd have her beloved clown all ta herself. His obsession with tha Bat was gettin' in tha way of her plans with her man.

"Why don'tcha try it on?" she nudged him. Bored, she crept up behind him, lettin' her hand skim over his broad back before settlin' on his shoulder. "I told ya, if ya followed orders, ya'd get some sweet gifts! Enjoy yer little playground while I check some other stuff. When I'm back, ya better have a plan on how ta get started! I'm gettin' impatient!" With a huff, she skipped away.

The whole time she was going on about her master plan and how she was itching to see Batman get taken down for good, Jason was trapped inside his own head. But when she asked him to put on the suit like it was nothing, it snapped him back to reality. He gave her a look, taking in her offer, and wondered where his old Robin suit was now. Probably burned to a crisp, he figured.

With a nod, he sucked in a deep breath as he watched her disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone in this massive warehouse. It was chock full of gear meant to help him take over Gotham and put Batman in the ground. He never would've thought he'd be here, but life's funny like that.

He picked up the helmet and studied it, checking out its sleek, sturdy design and the new blue color scheme. It was a far cry from the garish colors he used to have to wear as Robin. After a few moments, he started to don the suit, inspecting each piece of armor as he went along. It felt powerful and looked bulky, but was surprisingly lightweight. Best of all, it supported all his old injuries, from his back to his knees to his ankles.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby glass and traced a gloved finger over the Arkham logo on his chest. It was crazy to think that a place that had broken him so badly had now built him back up again. Life's a damn paradox.

With a flick of a switch, he activated the helmet and its monitor-like vision filled his field of view. The helmet gave him incredible peripheral vision and was equipped with all kinds of readings and measurements that would be crucial out in the field.

Harley's been keepin' an eye on him through tha security cameras. She was gettin' all giggly an' pumped up. It was time, time ta get things rollin' !

But, this ain't a one-person gig. He needed some muscle, lots of 'em. But Harley knew he needed a plan first. She had some ideas, but she wasn't about ta do all tha work. She's done enough already.

Meanwhile, she wanted ta get him all fired up again. He was takin' it too easy this time. So, she went on a hunt an' found some articles about Batman and his new Robin. Turns out, this Robin guy was wearin' a suit almost identical to the one he came in with months ago.HAHA! They were tag-teamin' and bustin' up bad guys left and right, including Clayface and Scarecrow.

And, get this, she found a juicy article about Nightwing workin' with the dynamic duo in Gotham. Harley couldn't resist playin' with his head, so she circled Nightwing's picture with a big heart.

Over at the gun emplacements, Jason was surveying all the possible ways to wreak havoc. He wanted his own gear now, not just Batman's hand-me-downs. When he was Robin, he had those R-shaped Batarangs, but that was always Batman's thing, not his.

He cocked his head to one side as he studied two identical desert eagles that had been custom-built to be slightly larger than usual and able to fit together. During his time with Slade, he had developed a taste for dual-wielding firearms. As a younger man, it had seemed like a cool idea, but now that his intentions had changed, it was clear to him that having two guns would allow him to attack from multiple angles, giving him a tactical advantage.

He attached one gun to the other and pushed some buttons, then pulled a small lever. One stock extended, followed by the barrel of the other, leaving Jason to join them together to form what looked like a sniper rifle.

"Neat," he murmured, surprised to find that the voice that spoke wasn't his own. It was modulated to conceal his identity. That was perfect. Batman didn't need to know who was gunning for him until the very end, when he took his last breath and realized who had defeated him.

But enough of that. Jason needed to start planning his attack. He sat down at a desk, removed his helmet, and began plotting out key locations on the city map. His primary interest was in the watchtowers; he needed to have eyes everywhere. Jason had learned that if you wanted to take control, you had to know where your opponent was and be ready for their next move.

tha jester was sneakin' up behind tha guy, clutchin' her articles ta her chest like some kinda teenage girl. Once she got close enough, she slammed her stuff down on tha table in front of him where he was workin'.

"Lookie here!" she jeered at him, "Seems like tha new kid is makin' all tha headlines. Ya ever make headlines? ah don't think ya did to be real with ya." She tapped her finger on her chin, pretendin' to think. "Hmm... nahhh. Don't remembah!"

"Oh! But guess what?" she continued, tossin' Nightwing's article at him, "This guy's got a new friend in town too! Ya gotta get those plans ready 'cause ya missin' out on all tha fun!"

Harley loved usin' her knowledge for tha bad. She enjoyed toyin' with this guy's mind, or any guy for that matter. But he was young and vulnerable, so it was too easy for her.

"Hmm... all these names... We gotta think of a name for ya," she said, moving his chair closer to her and straddling his lap. She put his helmet on him and started to come up with ideas. "Robin was Batman's sidekick, but yer MY soldier. Yer gonna kill Batsy for me like a knight in shinin' armor! So I can have my puddin' all ta myself!"

Harley paused for a moment, lookin' at him with her blue eyes as she stroked his armored chest over the Arkham logo.

"You'll be tha Arkham Knight," she finally decided.

"Sounds bad ass!" She took her lipstick out of her cleavage and drew a smiley face on his helmet. "There now, yer all set! That should make ya smile!"

#arkham knight #arkham!jason #jason todd #batman #dc fanfic #dc comcis #arkhamverse #red hood #batfam #the arkham knight #dc rp blog #dc rp #harley quinn #ao3feed #ao3 stuff

[hearthtales]

FIRST MEETINGS MEME.

A meme for first meetings and introduction threads, aka a ‘What you will notice about my muse first’ cheat sheet.

Repost, don’t reblog. Bold what applies. Fill in details.

MEREDITH CADIGAN.

(pic.rew sources: here and here)

— GENERAL APPEARANCE.

GENDER: masculine. feminine. non-binary.

COMPLEXION: light; smile lines and worry lines.

HEIGHT: average, 5'5''

BODY TYPE: endomorph. mesomorph. ectomorph.

BUILD: small. medium. large. athletic. muscular. soft. curvy. voluptuous. + DETAILS: not terribly muscular, but not frail or slim; her frame is naturally a bit wider, sturdy from lighthouse work, rectangular with soft edges; looks like someone who gives excellent hugs (and she does, in fact, give excellent hugs).

HAIR: none. buzzed. short. medium. long. very long. asymmetrical cut. + COLOR: light reddish blonde. + STYLE: wavy, a bit dry and frizzy from saltwater and wind; worn down or braided loosely back, sometimes held back with a plain or simple-patterned bandanna.

EYE COLOR: grey, like rain-heavy clouds over water; gain a bluer shade in certain lighting. + DETAILS: her gaze typically seems warm, albeit faintly weary.

SCARS: some on her limbs from slipping on the coast over the years, but none particularly distinct.

— FASHION.

STYLE: practical, layered, warm, durable; tends to wear more traditional attire worn by generations of lightkeepers in her family (somewhat old-fashioned).

PALETTE: neutral, faded, often in shades mimicking the sea, the rocky coast, and the lighthouse (blue, sage green, grey, brown, burgundy, etc.).

TYPICALLY WEARING: warm knit sweater; wool skirt that reaches just past her knees (trousers when more necessary/practical); well-worn waterproof jacket on colder days (typically fleece-lined or flannel-lined, longer in length); long and thick socks worn beneath wellington boots or wading shoes.

PIERCINGS: pierced ears; she wears simple earrings on the rare occasions she wears any at all.

TATTOOS: none, though she sometimes scribbles reminders on her hands and arms with pen when paper isn’t handy. these notes tend to smudge.

OTHER INFORMATION: she often knits her sweaters herself with stitches reminiscent of seaside elements like waves, rope, and pebbles (she knits sweaters for her daughter as well); her shoes are designed for traction on rocks slick with saltwater.

— EXPRESSION.

USUAL FACIAL EXPRESSION: warm, thoughtful, attentive, sometimes rather wistful.

DEFAULT BODY LANGUAGE: thoughtful, polite, though she can be a bit fidgety around strangers; prone to fussing over those she cares about.

GENERAL MOVEMENTS: meredith is accustomed to trekking along uneven slopes, navigating the rocky coastline, and ascending the spiral staircase within the lighthouse, so her movements tend to be more fluid and confident in such environments and a bit slower and more hesitant on smoother ground.

— NOTABLE FOR RP.

PRESENCE: caring, reassuring, someone safe and trustworthy, with underlying weariness noticeable if one is perceptive enough. + DETAILS: her magic, to those who can sense such things, feels like a cool breeze tinged with saltwater (albeit with a faint sense of oceanic strength behind it, carefully controlled).

APPEARANCE: usually tidy, sometimes a bit wind-swept and flushed from the outdoors.

SCENT: ocean air, driftwood, freshly-baked bread.

VOICE: warm, lilting.

ACCENT: yes (welsh) / no

SPEECH MANNERISMS: friendly, polite.

MISCELLANEOUS: meredith is caring and protective, but she ultimately understands the tides and seashells better than people. she also rarely receives guests at the lighthouse, and she knows many townsfolk consider her peculiar and whisper rumors about both herself and her predecessors. observant people may notice she is hesitant around fellow adults as a result (though she tries her best to hide any nervousness and be as welcoming as possible to make a good first impression). around guests who appear younger or injured, however, her mom instincts easily overpower her uncertainty.

#|༄| tag games #|༄| headcanons #|✧| meredith #(i have been Thinking abt her!!)

[tres-fidelis]

CHARACTER AESTHETIC — BOLD /ITALICS WHAT APPLIES & REPOST

SOUNDS.

tinkling of piano keys / the click of a lock / an engine starting, stalling / sinful whispers / stifled sobbing / the rattle of death / alarm blaring / a siren call / spanish guitar strumming / loud laughter at midnight / banshee screeching / drunk hiccuping / the giggle of a child / rolling thunder / disdainful chuckling / bones creaking / carefree whistling / singing off key / flesh hitting concrete / white noise / a mirror cracking / laboured breathing / a groan of pain / waves lapping at the shore / the roar of a lion / pages turning / swords clashing / deep humming / birds chirping / dial tone / tongue popping / fingers tapping a surface / crystals breaking / music turned up to the limit / raindrops on a roof / angry yelling / yawning at noon / horns going off / ravens talking / bubblegum bursting / splashing water / teakettle squeal / militia drums / wolves howling / slow, sarcastic clapping / soprano notes / whispering pleas / gregorian chants / mournful cries

VISUALS.

filled notebooks / dogeared books / clean shaves / empty stares / sleeping at a desk / the witching hour / driving all night / restless tides / broken windows / coffee any time / freshly baked goods / bonfires / lounging felines / circles under your eyes / bedhead / tangling in the sheets / leather jackets / paint stains / music sheets / too many tabs to find the music / weary brows / card games / messy ponytails / strained smiles / unsent texts / heart on your sleeve / slow dancing in the rain / star gazing / torn jeans / piles of clothes / filled bookshelves / hurricanes / chapped lips / cliff diving / the lights in venice / stolen kisses / poet shirts / half melted candles / empty coffee mugs / hot tea / unlaced boots / shameless flirting / too young to be so old / laced fingers / eyes in the trees / bloody knuckles / french letters / neon lights / ivy covered balconies

SCENTS.

burnt leaves / turkish coffee / spiced rum / moss / vanilla beans / freshly cut grass / decay / sea salt / strawberries and cream / cinnamon / honey / copper / pineapple / wet dog / pine needles / wood shavings / rainsoaked bark / something sharp, indefinable / Russian tea / dandelions / squeezed limes / Italian wine / freshly laundered clothes / coming rain / hardtack and gruel / roasting flesh / something cloying in the chest / ichor / lillies in spring / pollen / damp clothes / meatpies / greasy coins / curdled milk / leather / bone marrow / wet cement / ricecakes / open paint cans / cocoa leaves / tar / apples / sandlewood cologne / orchids / molded onions / cheap perfume / mistletoe / rubber on fire / grave dirt / old books / new books / melting plastic / roses / poison oak / seacucumbers / peppermint handcream

Tagged by: @rebellionhearted Tagging: @tvstarkuma, @chibitantei, @as-above-rp (Kairi!), @ofhope (Chie or Maruki!), @revclver-jesus, and anyone wearing a black shirt!

#ic #ic info #Jayden #P5R Verse - What Lies Beneath Shibuya #MMX Full Time Verse - Reporter Jayden #((thank you for the tag!!))

[whitherwanderer]

6 // onerous

[ x ]

Spitting whatever taste of bile was left on her tongue, Sif made a face at the dirt below and lifted herself upright slowly until she sat on her knees. She groaned as her head protested the motion, the swaying she felt going into a full spin. Sure, she didn’t feel as sick as she had moments ago, but the pain was still there, wrenching her insides like they were being squeezed until near to bursting. She’d need a minute to wait for that to subside before she could even think of standing.

Behind her came the slow cadence of boots on gravel, a weary sigh in turn. She didn’t fully face him to catch what was surely a patronizing smile tilted towards genuine sympathy, and instead raised a dusty hand to signal that his comments were best kept to himself. He got the message clearly enough and instead leaned forwards to offer a hand of his own, which she took after a moment of consideration of her state.

The lift was enough that the spinning nearly sent her right back to the ground were it not for him slinging her arm around his shoulders and keeping her steady against his side as they took slow steps towards the campfire, easy enough to make out through the blur that was her vision. As she was mercifully sat down before the warmth of the fire and had the comfort of a bed roll beneath her (she’d forgive the half loaf of bread thrown directly at her face), she found she was finally able to lie down without the looming threat of a churning stomach and closed her eyes, her hands on either side of her head—as if that would keep the spinning at bay.

The weight of a thick wool blanket fell across her, one of a richly-patterned and well-used pair. A gift from a dear friend who would be glad to know how instantly it soothed a weary soul. How often it was worn across shoulders tired from carrying their entire lives across the continent, or across the two of them as they searched for sleep in the stars, only to find them cold and empty.

The thought was interrupted by a waterskin offered out to her wordlessly, to which she nodded, and another hand was held out to lift her up again. The first sip was a swish-and-spit, but the next was a much deeper pull that she knew she sorely needed, even if it would do little to soften her ails. She kept it in her hands as she watched him tend the fire, her vision blurring again as she lost herself in a thought.

“Y’ e’er get tired o’ this...?” she croaked. “Haulin’ yer heavy arse back t’ camp an’ watchin’ y’ spew yer guts?” he asked back with a note of his usual provocations. She only shrugged at him, a miserable shell of the raucous bard she was just bells ago in the company of friends. Not quite up to a verbal jousting anymore.

A hum of contemplation rolls out from his throat as he looks to the fire for an answer. Instead comes an old tune. “Told y’ before, lass. I carry thin’s.”

Sif’s eyes flicked up at him, refocused, but not high enough to catch his expression. She nodded and looked back towards the fire as well. Two years had come and gone, and too many things were still left unsaid save for admissions made song. Honesty with herself was still too heavy a burden. “So y’ did.”

—

Maybe it won’t matter when it all is said an’ done. Even in m’ silence, Y’ still seem t’ have th’ will t’ follow on. M’ shadow chooses not t’ run.

—

OOC Notes: Based on a song I rewrote that’s about two years old to the day, and a nice little RP thread that it spurred.

#ffxivwrite2022 #[ the longest road ] #[ drabbles; sif ]

[hatredcurse]

"Do you really want to put yourself through this, Nii-sama?" asked Izuna || @multi-cannon-rp

It was near unavoidable, the weariness that Madara wore on his countenance: the crease underneath his eyes, the worry in his brow. He pathetically failed to disguise it with a somewhat cheerful disposition of a calm smile and serene stare, but Izuna would have seen right through his futile attempt at normalcy.

"No," he spoke truthfully," I don't have many options here."

The war was nearing it's climax. Any major battle could be the final decider of this unending conflict of nations and Madara feared that he would misstep in his calculations on what would inevitably thrust them into an early finale. He readied himself for any and all potential outcomes including catch-all contingencies, but it never felt like enough. This barren feeling that he is missing crucial information to secure his clan's victory and there was no guidance to assist in alluding him to concrete answers.

Frankly, the stress was wearing him thin.

"Don't worry yourself with me, Izuna. You should focus on what you do best and have faith," he said with no inkling of emotion behind his tone. The elder Uchiha's words no more than a tired recitation of empty commands and promises. His expression equally blank with not so much comfort to be offered either.

#Madara ic #v. HEAVENLY PAWN; ASCENSION OF THE VENERABLE SAINT #closed starter #multi-cannon-rp