#Thread ⋆༺ ⚔︎ ༻⋆

[paragonknightxander]

Fire cracked from planks of wood, the camp held together from a messy foundation. A large group of bandits circled a lone man like sharks, they took turns toying with him. They mocked with a sinister flare, faking swings that would edge closer with each shot out of sheer boredom. Other villagers could do nothing but watch inside their cage, if they dare speak out surely they would surely be the next target of such abuse.

The town had already long since turned to ruin by the time Xander arrived, many buildings were in disrepair or had fallen to ash. He was absolutely infuriated but chose to stuff it inside himself rather than make a scene. By the time such reports finally made way to him it was far too late, he couldn’t help but blame himself. 

Truthfully he had been in such a rush in the heat of the moment he neglected to bring a proper army. The best he could manage now is hunt down those instigators. This was unlike the usual group of criminals, many mostly desired goods. Yet they sought to destroy lives for no discernible reason.

Luckily they were messy, random bags full of different items were carelessly thrown near the village, most likely fallen from a carriage. It wasn’t a perfect lead, but in a battle of time he would have to take the risk. Even if he couldn’t stop the destruction that had already taken place, surely this group of bandits couldn’t have gone far. Most likely hiding out in whatever base they could manage.

Xander rushed off into the woods, his horse’s hooves giving the dirt path a hardy thunk with each gallop. Searching for any possible sign of human interference he remained vigilant. Brushing past countless trees, he had been racing for quite some time. He worried about the fact that he potentially made the wrong choice.

It was only then an off color sparkled in the corner of his vision, a sword…? Not only that, it was surely wielded by a man he couldn’t quite make out the details of. He pulled the reins on his steed, making it come to a stop without so much as a sound.

Creeping out of its sheath, the knight gripped his sword tightly. He wasn’t sure who this person was, but there was no way he wasn't aware of his presence by now. He could only hope this man had come alone or wasn’t one for senseless fighting, perhaps he knew of the situation too? Xander hadn’t gotten the chance to see him well either, this man could potentially BE one of the bandits. However he decided against assuming the worst.

He was about to approach until his steed abruptly dashed forward- the distinct sound of an arrow grazed behind him! A sudden horde of bandits attempts to ambush Xander, pulling out Siegfried; he has no choice other than to fight. He had not yet swung his sword, yet in an instant one of the bandits came crashing down in a pool of crimson. Behind them came into view a man, that sword glistening its familiar color from before.

@otgolokh

⌖✶ When swords meet ✶⌖

Mission board distress +1 axe

[diabotsis]

⚔︎RULES & MUN⚔︎

(blog wip. heres the verses page for now)

General blog TWs: emotional/physical/psychological abuse (People and Pokémon), neglect, misogyny implications, violence, potentially graphic descriptions of violence, murder mentions, harsh language, ableism implications, religious iconography, blasphemy, vague political implications, muse who is generally an asshole

I'm Mildew (he/it 25+), welcome to my RP sideblog for Ghetsis from Pokemon. The blog this one leeches off of is @aelirus I wrote Ghetsis for a while in short-form RP back in 2016, and never in long form despite being super invested in him. So, here's where I'll be doing that. I'm a pretty friendly person, I try to write with and befriend a broad range of people... with exceptions for the usual suspects (don't be a pos and dont be a creep. I'm looking at you, people-who-write-nsfw-with-protags.) I can be shy reaching-out first, and maybe tend to talk too much when I think it's okay. Never worry about annoying me or telling me off, I've dealt with it all and I can establish boundaries if needed/respect others' boundaries. Thanks for reading.

⚔︎RULES:

Here are rules that are specific to Ghetsis' blog, as he will be played a bit differently than my Cyrus blog (@aelirus):

While Ghetsis is a very interesting character, he lacks the same amount of depth my other muses have. For this reason, he's going to be used more for the purposes of events and conflicts. Don't expect a lot of growth out of him or character arcs (although not entirely off the table in highly select cases.)

As an addition to that rule, I probably will have lower activity with Ghetsis and simply use him when the need arises. (That being said "lower activity" for me is a mystery. Because I love to talk and write.)

As another addition to the first rule, you can absolutely feel free to use Ghetsis as a set piece for events/conflicts. He is the "biggest bad" there is. Thanks to alternate universe fuckery that I subscribe to, I can even allow him to be defeated in a myriad of ways or timelines. I have one condition with this: "Defeating him" needs to have meaning, and make sense. If I feel like he's being pushed around or being underestimated OOC, I will try to nudge things back in the right direction. If that doesn't work, I'll tell you directly in DMs, and I might lose motivation for the idea altogether. Work with me, please. I would much rather your character have an interesting story to tell.

I should probably put this on my Cyrus blog too, but: Ghetsis is a STRATEGIST. He knows Pokémon battling like no one's business, and using Pokémon in general to get what he wants. I, HOWEVER... I haven't fought a single competitive battle in Pokémon. Have mercy on my soul 🙏 (And because of this, I typically subscribe more to non-game-logic battle sequences. Such as discussing generally what we want to take place, and trusting that both sides will make something fun and interesting come of it.)

That's all for now. Anything else, I'll add in the future and post about it so people know.

Now onto rules across both blogs for posterity-

More serious stuff.

Number one is pretty simple: If you're an asshole, I don't want you around. If you roll your eyes when someone brings up their experience as bipoc, or at pronouns or neopronouns or real shit going on in the world, get lost.

You can consider this rule 1a: If you delight in annoying people who don't want to see certain things, you're also not welcome. this includes anyone who calls themselves "proship". I'm not here for any of that.

Now the more simple/given rules:

GHETSIS IS AN ASSHOLE. Don't expect to change him without a lot of push back, don't expect him to feel bad for something he does to your muse. This in no way reflects how I, the writer, see you or your character. If you want me to dial something back, tell me!

Blog might be suggestive at times, and usually in joking fashion, but anything explicit will not take place here.

Related, but if I follow a blog whose Mun/Writer is under 18 and interacts with mature posts, I will reach out and warn them or block/unfollow depending on what it is.

Non-RP blogs can absolutely follow and interact with me! I'm chill. But please be mindful of interacting with threads that include other roleplayers, as their stance can be different.

When writing with me, don't assume what my muse will do unless previously discussed. AKA: no godmodding.

Don't be too pushy for responses. I'm an adult, I've got typically low motivation, stuff happens. However, if we both really like an idea and neither of us can get through a whole thread in order to pull it off, we can totally chat in DMs about the scenario and bring it to life that way!

Go wild with Asks, have fun. I'll pick and choose what I can and can't/don't want to do, whether because of my motivation or whatever other reason. If I truly have a problem with anything, I'll message or respond with the request to stop.

I might have more rules eventually, but this is a good starting place. Talk to me if you've got any questions or concerns!

[lgckyoka]

౨ৎ lupin iii with @lgclili

They're eating lunch (for whatever reason, Kyoka still hasn't figured out why herself it just happened) together in silence when suddenly she brightens at a realization. She whips her head to face the older trainee, a I-don't-have-anything-of-value-to-say-but-I-somehow-think-it-is-of-value expression on her face.

She quickly swallows her food, chugging a mouthful of water to better rinse it down before she speaks. "Your birthday is 01/01/01." She then points at herself. "My birthday is 02/02/02." Brilliant observation, Kyoka. "Is there anyone around with a 03/03/03 birthday? That would be neat, I think."

[veiledmercenary]

-- {{ Continued from [X] with @asktheevilgeniusesson

Something Chief always worried about when he became known for his work were rivals. Enemies. People who didn't like him for one reason or another. Either because they felt their position or status was threatened by his more honorable work, or because they just didn't want another assassin on their turf. He's even had allies of targets hire hits on him back in the city he's from.

The slider hoped that maybe- just maybe, this new world he had found himself in was different. That it was kinder, even to a slight degree. But when he looked for work to get some money for his normal routine he used to have before, he... He found it wasn't. He found it was the same. Evil-- truly evil people existed just as much as they did back where he's from. And Chief had high hopes for this world.

Chief soon stirred with a groan, his head pounding. At first he was disoriented and confused. Where was he? Why did everything hurt? The last thing he clearly remembers was he was trying to work a job and then--....

Eyes snap open in an instant, locking onto the one other person in the room. The slider couldn't help the primal hiss that escaped him, angry and threatening, five evenly spaced clicks at the end of the breath. Oh he hated those inhuman noises he made, but that one he often couldn't hold back.

The assassin was still disoriented a bit, still just a little out of it, but he was awake. He was at a point where if he had to, he could work through it. And seeing how the stranger was sharpening that blade... He may have to work through it. He knew this was what he'd feared happening just by observing the situation.

[paragonknightxander]

Wrapping up his duties for the day, Xander had barely left his classroom. Giving proper feedback to exams was always a lengthy task, nevertheless it was far from an errand he was unable to complete. The last thing he could ever allow was to fail as a teacher, all of these students were the future of their homes whether they realized it or not.

He couldn’t help but ponder to himself how Laslow was fairing, he had heard that his retainer had taken on the role of teaching as well. To think so many familiar faces resided here, Xander couldn’t help but feel delighted by this despite struggling to show it. He hoped that Lasow refrained from finding himself in too much mischief, he knew the daydreamer all too well however-

Speak of the devil, it was just then his retainer seemed to turn a corner immediately coming face to face with him. “Laslow, just as I was-” Xander blinked for a moment, catching a more fixated take on the disaster laid out in front of him. His retainer seemed to always be condemned with such circumstances. “And who exactly have you given the misfortune of pestering now?” He scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Oh- of course this would happen. Was he truly so incapable of staying out of trouble even here of all places? Does he not wish to set a good example for his pupils?!

“Laslow, you do realize time-out is for students, correct?” The storming look in his eyes alone could pierce through a man, he refused to take situations such as this lightly. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised to see him in such a condition. Nevertheless he remained greatly disappointed in his friend. It seemed ceasing this habit was a mountain greater than what Laslow could cross.

What Are You Gonna Do, Put Me Under House Arrest?

[therosepetalrps]

@n0rthsqueen・❥・𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃: for sandor : 〔𝟘𝟛𝟙. 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕖𝕓𝕠 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤〕

『✣』 The rain, thin as it was, had already turned the snow to slush beneath his boots. The cold bit at any hint of exposed skin. Sandor was starting to fear that he'd never get used to it. Although he had the colouring of a Northerner, he did not have their veins — which he was sure were shards of icicles beneath their skin.

The weather was hell on his joints and even crueler to his bad leg. Chasing Her Grace around this godsforsaken castle did it no favours either.

He'd gone to her chambers intent on escorting her to the Great Hall for a long morning of conferring with her vassals. She had not been there; an occurrence which he was growing to expect. The little sneak was worse than her sister had been, he swore.

He trudged across the yard, having already checked the library tower, the kitchens, and nearly two dozen corridors. The rain was picking up, and with it, the clouds were smothering the sun's attempt to rise. He approached the small wooden structure built where the godswood met the Glass Gardens. He saw her silhouette, bolstered by the bulk of a dark, fur-lined cloak. He muttered a curse.

In his dun breeches and drab layers of wool and leather, he often looked more peasant than Queensgaurd. But that was indeed his role, in all but name…and livery. No white cloak, nor emblazoned sigils. Not even of his own house. He was no more a Clegane than he was a Targaryen princess. Not anymore. He was a sword, as he'd always been. Though, he was now a sword swung by a far more merciful hand than any that had wielded him before. If she ever let him swing at all.

Sandor stepped onto the decking, the wooden slats creaking beneath his weight, staring at her back.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, ❞ he grunted, by way of greeting. ❝ 𝐍𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍. ❞

[tyroshiwarrior]

⊹⠀𒁍⠀*⠀˖⠀⊹ ❨ 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 ❩

𝐈. Oaths of Fire (originated on x.) An original Daario x Daenerys AU crafted with @daeremiros. 𓆱 My Sword is Yours. My Life is Yours. My Heart is Yours. 𓆱 Va Moriot Aōhon 𓆱 The Sweetest Ruin 𓆱 In Defiance of the Gods 𓆱 Warmth Beneath Cold Stone 𓆱 Of Wine and Wisdom

[paragonknightxander]

Hooves trotted with confidence, even from a distance the open vast gates established itself clear in view. Truthfully Marx felt very happy to finally acquire the chance to be around his brother, though on the surface that was difficult to see. Having the ability to simply spend time with his family without duties was an extremely rare occurrence back at home, there was always something separating them. Of course he was still busy here as well, yet he didn’t suspect to actually be presented with a glimmer of quiet time.

“Come now, Wisteria.” He whispered in a gentle tone, stroking the mane of his steed. Xander wasn’t exactly known for his… ‘special talent’ in naming things. He had originally planned on giving her the name ‘Lancey’ though due to suggestions from his sisters, luckily, he changed his mind. She let out an affectionate snort, clearly feeling content with his soft touch.

Outside of battle Wisteria was always a sweet soul, seeming to have more emotional awareness than some humans. She was a frail foal rescued from an abandoned stable, one would have never expected such an extreme growth spurt. She will always be a dear friend to him, unconditionally loving Marx even in his darkest hours. He could never show how badly some things would affect him to other people, yet animals always would find a way to melt his heart. Especially his horse and loyal friend.

To no surprise, Xander spotted the little prince already waiting with his rowdy companion; it seemed he wasn’t the only one excited. He softly grinned to himself from the thought, his horse slightly quickened her pace, approaching the two of them without command. 

“Well, the weather is rather nice is it not? It’s good to see you, Leo. And you too, Faustus.” The words escaped in a soft hum, soon readjusting to his usual speech. A nostalgic warmth wrapped inside his chest like a blanket. “I do hope that this morning has treated you well, you seem to be in good spirits. It certainly has been a while since we've last done anything like this, I’m sure it will be a refreshing experience.”

Of Brothers and Horses

[quartzhearted]

♡ :]

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

he hasn't spoken to this boy probably at all---and if he had, it wasn't impactful enough for him to remember. ( he's long past caring about whether he can remember who he's spoken to; blame it on the old age, thank you ).

however, morion would like to change that and soon, if only because he has seen how this kid can throw a sword around and he really likes how it looks. sure, there are plenty of promising swordsmen at the academy, but he in particular has caught morion's fancy. it's no-nonsense, not meant to impress or show off; it's the kind of swing from someone who means business. morion likes kids like that.

[inseparableduo]

She's pointing at the two talking about stabbing each other and the clear sexual tension between the two. "I rest my case your honor."

[paragonknightxander]

Who would do such an irresponsible thing? Surely one of the pupils had stolen his documents on this exam. His eyes are set on his class, particularly an unexpected new student to his seminars, Yuzu. By that look on her face as well body composure, he had an itching suspicion that her mind was wandering elsewhere. It would be ridiculous to immediately throw accusations, despite this, he will investigate this further.

The professor called out her name, all the other students gathering their supplies and leaving class without much of a word. “Indeed, I do.” By that look on her face he could tell she was nervous, this was far from an uncommon experience for Xander. Even so, one cannot rule out the reasoning behind this.

“A moment of your time, please.” He started, a stern stare full of conviction painting his face. “Earlier, I could not help but notice some of my exam papers went missing. Now do keep in mind I always sort my work carefully, something of such great importance would never simply get lost.”

“It is quite an intriguing coincidence that you suddenly decided to attend one of my seminars almost immediately after this happened. Especially considering I do not recall you ever taking this class or signing up to it. I am not saying you are guilty; perhaps there was a mix-up or information never reached me. This academy has a way with surprises.”

“However! If you do know anything of this incident, it would be wise to inform me now rather than regretting it later.”

yuzu with suspiciously exam-shaped throat: we outta exam.

non-mission task: distress (lance+1)

[alurlssrinbled]

|| fun thing about Neth and Vera if your character ever meets the latter... This is a problem that's mostly fixed after bg3 since Neth has Learned, but she has a REALLY big habit of being overly protective of her sister. I think a lot of older siblings (blood or otherwise) have that problem. Neth sees Vera as her sweet druid sister who needs to be protected.

Meanwhile, Vera's just -_- with her Sun Beam and Flame Blade XDD

[diabotsis]

cmere guys lets write a campaign where u all band together and go on an epic quest to destroy bbeg wizard ghetsis

[lgckyoka]

౨ৎ l'amour quand il vient with @lgcmaylin

They're weird, the lights. Kyoka could swear that they're flickering more than normal. She blinks at them a couple more times as the doors open and people exit the elevator. They close again. The lights continue to flicker. There's the sound of puttering, oh great, don't tell her tha-

Kyoka doesn't even have the time to finish her thought when the elevator putters to a stop. At least the lights stopped flickering. That's a win. She'll take as many as she can, given how long it'll take for them to fix this, she thinks.

"Why is it that elevators are so haunted?" she asks the only other occupant of the elevator out of the blue. Kyoka doesn't really believe in that sort of thing, but with how often she's having trouble with the elevators, she's starting to consider carrying some salt around on her. Just in case.

[kedamononoken]

He reaches out - reaches forth to choke the man, to squeeze fingers around his throat til he can barely breathe his last; his grip is harsh, his fingers rough on skin. What starts as a tight squeeze, edges into the curious touch of a man so close to something he's dreamed of for so long - those hands loosen, claws withdrawn for the caress of an animal, eased. But Heidegger isn't soft, isn't gentle. He's stricken. So wanting to murder the other that he can't quite bring himself to do it - he wants to savour it. He needs to feel it, really feel it. The warmth of flesh between his fingers, the heat of Godo's breaths beside his ear. He himself pants into the other's neck - resists the temptation to draw blood with fangs, instead grazes lips along skin. Tells himself he does not want a taste but rather, blood.

Well, aren't they the same?

He hates himself enough to spare the other man's neck a kiss - pursed lips, not without the edge of his teeth between them. Oh, if only he didn't want him so badly.

As always, Godo remains obdurate as stone and just as silent.

Heidegger's visits are infrequent, yet spaced just long enough apart that some none too small part of his mind anticipates his coming. And every time the other man reaches for him, he hopes that his touch will bring what he desires most- Death.

Whatever vision of unbending steel and righteous mettle the former Commander may be seeing is simply a ghost- Some phantom echo from a time when he'd thought himself invincible, even chosen by the Gods.

Godo is no warrior-patriarch of a vast and powerful dynasty, simply a thrall to an eikon that traded power for mako. He has killed and betrayed, conquered and subjugated, sacrificed innumerable lives of the slaves he made of the once proud populaces of smaller, weaker nations.

He is no better than the conglomerate that keeps him hostage, offering false promises of enlightenment and feeding the souls of those he considered inferior to the flames. He chose this- To offer himself to Shinra in exchange for a truce, an end to a foolish era dominated by greed and arrogance.

Perhaps, in an entirely selfish way, he hopes that Shinra will follow in Wutai's footsteps with the discovery of what 'summon creatures' truly are. He does not care to live long enough to see the city reduced to ash and bones, such a fate is inevitable- what they exchange in order to seize such abilities always costs more than the price agreed upon.

He is... tired, down to his rotten marrow and blanched soul.

Not even the graze of his old rival's lips enflames him, nary a spark to be birthed from such an act given to one so unworthy. Their eyes once burned with righteous fury and a madness that only another consumed by madness could understand. Now his are dull and bereft of that light that once guided his every move and executed each decision made with wrathful certainty.

"What you truly seek is mere illusion, nothing more than the conceit of mad tyrant's pursuit of godhood. Everything that I believed, everything that I once understood with such an angry and dogmatic fervor, was little more than a child's fantasy. A foolish, intransient dream as tangible as smoke fading into air."

[phoenixduelist]

oh shit, who the fuck did I kill?

To say that the Captain was surprised when the blacksmith landed with a thud on the floor before her blade had ran him through, was an understatement. Thin eyebrows arched, the saber still ready to strike until she heard an another voice.

“The scumbag who sold me out to the French.” Rozália replied quite calmly despite the situation, briefly turning her arm towards light to show where the rope had bit into wrist

Revenge was snatched away, a pity yes, but not something she would hurt the woman for.

“He has a son. Barely five. His father's sins aren't his and I'm also here to leave the boy something. Since I, well you did kill the old man, not like he was good as a father either.” just an another turncoat because he was promised a little more

“If you don't harm the boy or take what I'm about to give, I wish no harm upon you.”