#executioner sol

[strwbrryfraise]

Executioner Sol

I JUST REAZLIZED I NEVER POSTED THIS ONE HERE EITHER WTF

[alienfreak124]

stay with me here

and ignore my voice please

[creatively-cosmic]

hi sorry i forgot about this blog. again (fuck) ive been going through my joker arc (exe hyperfixation) on twitter. heres a bunch of designs ive made

[playerprincess]

Idk where else to ask this since Fantasia has asks turned off but I'm very new to the game and seeing everyone's theories about?? Past lives?? Is very interesting! But why is everyone talking about Sol having a guillotine scar beneath his choker? I don't recall seeing it in official art or in the game?

Sol‘s "Scar"

I’ve asked myself this question plenty of times as well, so I decided to try and collect any information on it I could find for you.

Firstly: Personally, I don’t really think he has a guillotine scar on his neck. I think that people just say that he has one because it fits the past life theory.

CONTAINS SPOILERS

I think that people mostly take the evidence from this cutscene from the Bad ending where Sol kills Crowe:

You can see that he’s not wearing his Choker here, revealing some sort of bruise that wraps around his entire neck.

But I don’t think that’s really a scar? After all MC chokes him with his choker prior to this, so I think it’s much more realistic to say that it’s the bruise from it. It also doesn’t really look like a scar at all.

It’s also the only picture I‘ve found drawn by fantasia that shows Sol without his Choker. So we don’t have anything for comparison to show. Maybe that bruise was there even before MC‘s attempt to choke Sol. We can’t really say.

All we really know is that Sol doesn’t really take it off. Ever.

Even if it’s kind of played off as a joke here, I think it underlines that he’s very reluctant to take it off or let MC see his exposed neck: Evidence

He doesn’t like being choked, or having hands anywhere near his neck. This could be an indicator for a scar, but it could also be because of some sort of traumatic past. Maybe he has trauma regarding being choked, and thus prefers to keep his neck covered with a choker.

"In return, just don't wrap two hands around his neck, he isn't fond of getting choked with the use of hands." - fantasia

But again, it’s never stated directly that there’s a scar present. It’s just a theory, and it could be true, but we don’t know for sure. I only mentioned it in my little essay to back up why people might compare Sol to the executioner. If we take the past life theory at face value, we could also theorize that he doesn’t like his neck being exposed because he was killed by a guillotine. He doesn’t really need to have a scar or bruise in order to be uncomfortable with it. Maybe it’s like phantom discomfort, that he feels like his head might fall off his shoulders if there’s not something constantly "keeping it in place".

[stinkyallegations]

cw TKaTB spoilers, theory, mention of guillotine, amnesia memories spoilers

TKATB and its characters belong to @fantasia-kitt !!

TKATB IS RATED +18. MINORS DONT INTERACT

Was about to post a theory about how sol could have been reincarnated to meet pumpkin again in a different timeline bc they werent allowed to be together in their own timeline, the bruise on his neck being an indication of being guillotined AND him giving purple tullips (sign of royalty and elegance) to pumpkin on valentine's, feeling insecure about his lunch (saying it isnt "extravagant" enough for pumpkin) and somehow using pardon me instead of excuse me (he doesnt usually use this type of elegant language i think. could be just me) kinda seems like we were royalty before? I mean, crowe mentioning marie antoinette and the game giving us many options for the question seems sussy to me. Why does MY opinion on the queen matter this much to both crowe and sol since their love meters go crazy with the answers? speaking of historical figures, i cant be the only one thinking sol WAS the "executioner". maybe that could be it. he was "the executioner" and we were a part of the royalty: swimming in money, expensive alcohol and the sweat of the peasants; and sol being one of them. Maybe we didnt even know who he was but him being a delusional yandere, he thought we were inseperable lovers. maybe that was why he was drawing someone in peasant clothes. He was just drawing his past life, could be the day he first saw us or the day he lost us. anything to support my theory? what inspired the game, ofc :D i was stalking fantasia's socials when i saw the game was was inspired by 3 gamea, one being Amnesia Memories (IM A HUGE FAN OF THAT SHIT). if you didnt know, amnesia memories is about a girl waking up with lost memories, trying to remember things. but bc it is an otome, she has a partner in every world she wakes up in. so if she fails to recollect her memories, she ends up in a different universe with a different partner. the relevance between tkatb and amnesia? in amnesia the final LI can also switch between different universes. he loses the mc in a fire and cant live without her. So a god helps him go to a different universe to be with her again. But everytime he goes to a universe, the world either kills the mc or him somehow. Following with pumpkin being royalty and sol not being able to live with us, what if after our death; he went to a different universe where we are classmates (equal parties!!) and now the entire purpose of his existence being, well, being with us forever?

But yknow. I decided not to post it since pretty much everyone already thinks this way! its probably what fantasia WANTS us to think to bamboozle us in the end, right? :3

P.S. not to mention his hatred for the rich. the rich and their stupid rules were the things that stopped him from being with us! but what if hyugo ALSO has switched universes along with him for his own reasons? Could this be the deal between the two, and the reason why hyugo wont allow sol to just die like that?

[thefiendkismet]

TKaTB spoilers!! ⚠️

Wanna make a list of the nicknames you can (try to) give Sol

(My favourite) ‘babygirl’ He has the sweetest reaction and he laughs his ass off, which is sweet

‘Husband’ you make him shook which is adorable, plus it makes the heart meter change

‘Crowe/Ichabod’ poor boy was not happy…

‘Sunny’ pouty boi doesn’t like that either

Gets offended when being called ‘executioner’ and ‘reaper’ (pretty funny reaction tho)

He likes ‘pumpkin’ but decides it suits you better

And he really likes ‘darling’, ‘love’, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ <3

Any names of the other characters, he dismisses and asks you to try again

If there are any other nicknames that get reactions, please let me know!

(affectionate)

[phonyroni]

Did anyone else have a vocaloid phase with the Daughter of Evil saga? BECAUSE I DID! AND NOW IT'S EVERYONE'S PROBLEM BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THE CLOSENESS TO MARIE ANTOINETTE AND USED THE MUSIC VIDEOS TO INSPIRE THIS

So like it's creepy to take it in the context of siblings, so this is just inspiration lol. Picture me this: Royal falls in love with servant, but executioner falls in love with servant. Raine dedicated their life to serving Crowe and they fell in love, but ended up spending time with Sol since he like... also works there. Bro gets hella jealous, so he brings about the revolution to kill the "tyrant". Servant Raine escapes the palace with the help of their prince, but he still takes the fall for the kingdom and Mx. Servant goes to live in hiding until they are reborn and meet once again! I could probably go on and on about this AU, but I just like the songs sooooo 💜💙

[vigilskeep]

give me the Sol good & bad endings in detail pretty pls 💖

sol as a character is defined by the crows and the blight, so here’s a spread of what i might have to work with

some bad sol endings:

crow version: the Widow Dellamorte. sol commits to being first talon lucanis’ right hand, but fail to protect him when the rest of the crows go to war with the ascending dominance of the dellamorte-de riva-cantori block. desperate to cling to whatever they have left of him, they allow themself to be possessed by spite—a fuller meld than spite/lucanis ever was, more in the anders/justice style—and become a vengeful winged monstrosity effectively haunting the dellamorte villa. black veil over golden heavy armour. for now, they still recognise their friends

blight version: the blight finally catches up. sol was intensely careful about fighting the blight right up until the final days, where there was nothing for it but to cut blindly into blight cysts. obviously it’s awful and pointless for them to suddenly die after all that, which is why i think we should at least explore the possibility. for awful and pointless drama. the ending they were kind of hoping for, just when they no longer want it??

alternate blight version: okay this isn’t an ending per se but i still think ghilan’nain should have gotten to turn them into a sick crow-themed blight monster at some point, as a special treat. this can also be a neutral or good ending depending on how much of themself they retain and how much of a monsterfucker lucanis is. sorry for saying that

some neutral-ish sol endings:

crow version: the First Talon’s Executioner. this is the version where sol goes back to the crows and it’s essentially business as usual. i can’t imagine this as good, but with their renewed appreciation for what they have and the lifetime of focus and activity ahead in order to just keep their heads above water, it could be survivable. and lucanis is there. but then i think about how permanently damning the step is where you start raising the next generation for it and i feel a bit sick

blight version: warden sol! sol finally gets up the nerve to cut ties with the crows, making the necessary choice for themself even if it means losing the people they love most. they take the joining and build what life they can alongside davrin, evka, and antoine, slaying darkspawn and finding a new path for the wardens following the tracks of a changing blight. it’s ugly and terrifying and hard, full of horror they never get used to, that will still be making their skin crawl until the day it kills them and drags them down, far from the comforts of home. but as a life, it is, at least, theirs to choose

some good sol endings:

crow version: a newly re-energised sol takes their place at lucanis’s side but considers things in ways they never could have before. why does going back to the crows have to mean they’re locked in place? they aren’t the underdog just clawing for survival that they once were, and they don’t have to act like it. they can do better! they have viago and teia and lucanis and people listen to them. if the dread wolf can change, can’t the crows? through a certain connection via the wardens, they make a contact who has very interesting ideas on the crows’ future

blight version: sol accepts they can’t stay with the crows, does a whole tear-stained confession to a shocked and distraught lucanis, and walks away. they settle into helping davrin, evka, and antoine against the changing blight. nobody actually requires them to take the joining because, hey, they’ve already gotten rid of more than enough archdemons for one person (showoff), and sometimes it is actually helpful for them to do their crow thing as the combatant the darkspawn can’t sense coming. maybe a year or two later, the world’s most miserable first talon (“they don’t even let me do my own assassinations anymore!”) quits his job, thoroughly disappoints his grandmother, thrills his demon, hands all his power to teia, and shows up somewhat nervously with as many antivan delicacies as he fears forgiveness will require

[pikakaistudioos]

SKYFIRE IS MY FAVORITE LITTLE (big) GUY SO PLS TELL ME ALL ABOUT YOURS. What's his backstory? What does he do? What are his relationships with the other cast members like?

Ahhh, I don't really know where to start cos some stuff would be really confusing if I don't talk about basic Cybertronian lore in my AU. Cos, it is quite different.

As for backstory he is a shuttle-class Seeker who was forged on Luna-1. During the Golden Age he shared a recharge bay (dorm room) in Iacon Science Academy with Starscream.

In general there was a lot of discrimination towards seekers, minicons, war frames,etc. So there wasn't many shuttles in the Academy, and Starscream was the first and only Vosian Seeker accepted into the Academy (Luna-1 Seekers were less discriminated because they looked less "predatory"). But I'm kinda expanding a little bit onto seeker lore but I want to focus on Skyfire for now.

So, he and Starscream were assigned to the dorm room together bc administrators thought it was most logical to put two Seekers together. And it was a good thing. Sky and Star quickly became friends, shared their notes and exchanged their research. Eventually they became Amica Endura. And their relationship grew more and more in time.

Skyfire could be described as the quiet, soft and caring mech who had a lot of patience (especially with Starscream lol). Even if he did nothing wrong he would always apologize. Despite the looks other students give him because of his size, he still warmly smiles to them. But he can be firm when someone crosses his boundaries.

Time passed at the Academy and he and Starscream finally got some recognition and were to participate in an exploratory mission to study and map out the uncharted sectors of space. Just the two of them in the dark vastness of space. They studied many planets, some organic, some metallic, some partly energy-based planets. During their studies Skyfire saw Starscream glancing at him in a weird way as if he wanted to tell him something. Skyfire immediately knew and smiled internally, he will wait.

But then something happened once they were descending towards their last planet, a 3rd planet from a Sol system (which was actually prehistoric Earth). An unexpectedly strong blizzard led to many system malfunctions and inevitable separation. Skyfire had crashed into the ice of the polar region but his massive weight made the ice crack and he sunk into the abyss of the cold waters, systems engaging into deep stasis lock.

Starscream was looking for Skyfire non-stop, until he needed to force himself to withdrawal and go back to Cybertron for a rescue team (which never really came, the Academy didn't allow a rescue, I can explain about it in Starscream’s lore). That day was truly devastating for Starscream, he was preparing to tell Skyfire once they arrived on Sol-3. He was preparing to ask Sky to become his conjunx endura...

[Time skip]

After millions of years the tectonic plates shifted enough to make Skyfire's signature detectable. Now it happens similarly like in the G1 episode "Fire in the Sky". Starscream cannot believe what the sensors detected, it was a Cybertronian distress signal, a signal matching Skyfire's signature.

Note that that's not the same Starscream anymore. The Decepticons discover Skyfire in the ice and recruit him. Starscream explains to Skyfire about the war with the autobots, that Decepticons were the heroes and the autobots were the villains who stood with the old system and that the decepticons were fighting against it. But after millions of years causes change.

After Skyfire saw what the decepticons do to the autobots who surrender he couldn't watch, when Starscream demanded of him to execute the prisoners Skyfire with the horror look on his face and refused. Starscream then with betrayal on his face whispered "traitor" and pointed up his null-ray. Skyfire didn't believe Starscream would shoot him, he explained that he was a scientist, not an executioner. Starscream fired, missing Skyfire's helm by mere inches. That's when Sky saw that Star wasn't who he was all those years ago. Starscream told Skyfire to leave and never come back, he told him that he should be thankful that his spark is still lit (these words hurt both Skyfire and Starscream equally).

Skyfire fled, the only options for him were the Autobots...

So he joined the faction, despite the pain he felt...welcome...as much as he could have felt. But something still nagged him, despite being an autobot, he didn't feel like one. He would have stayed neutral but by being an Autobot they could once and for all put an end to this war that destroyed his conj-... no...they didn't become it.

...

There's still much more but I do not want to overwhelm you with too much info in one post lol

[writing-whump]

Sol.... Begging for some sick Matt? Pls? Pretty please? I'm thinking with this prompt from the "feeling sick positions" list you reblogged:

When a character is sick and he has an arm draped over his eyes while laying down, bonus for the other over his stomach

Angry when sick

When Isaiah came home shortly before midnight, the light in the living room was still on. That was his first clue.

The second was even more obvious than the biting light in his night city eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Matthew didn't bother opening his eyes covered by his hand. His other was draped over his stomach and he looked like he was about to slide off the couch, but didn't have the energy. "Do I look okay?"

Isaiah put his coat off with a sigh before approaching. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Ah, now he cares. I'm. So. Touched."

Isaiah frowned, which was only for his own benefit, since Matt couldn't see it. "Are you pouting that I'm...not giving you attention?"

"Attention? You are fucking not home any day of the week. That's not lack of attention, that's a chronic avoidance."

"I'm not avoiding you." Isaiah dared to put the back of his hand against Matthew's cheek, since it was the closest free surface. "You aren't warm. No fever."

"Oh, I know. You are avoiding her, which doesn't really solve the problem for me, does it?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone. Just been busy," Isaiah said with an eyeroll that again, would have no effect. "I got really invested in law school again and I have many packs to visit and-"

"You know what? Shut it. I'm not in the mood to hear your made up crap." Matt turned his back to Isaiah, face pressed against the couch. Both his hands were now snuggly wrapped around his middle.

"Your stomach bothering you? Want some tea?" Isaiah was trying very hard not to pout at being interrupted like that. He was being honest.

Running around the city trying to find out if he truly wasn't seen as an Executioner was pretty exhausting. Even more exhausting was finding out that his effect truly wasn't what it was supposed to be.

Which meant lots of roaming around the city at night in the hopes of finding some trouble or a scuffle he could solve.

Until his connections got more willing, he needed more eyes in the city. Someone nible and fast to go on patrols for or with him.

He needed Rip. And he needed him, like, yesterday, not next month or however long it took for him to be able to stand humans and interact with wolves again.

Isaiah decided he might as well make the tea to have something to do. There was an amount of scents in the kitchen, movements and food he didn't know.

It was distressing to realize there were freshly washed cups and plates he didn't put into the dishwasher and food he didn't order or cook. That Seline moved in these spaces when he was away.

It wasn't like they didn't know how to interact. Or that they were would scream or argue or whatever. Isaiah was actually quite proud how well they were handling it.

There was a bit of tension, sure, but they could communicate about the essentials well. In a few weeks they might even be able to talk about the weather while looking at each other.

He felt kinda like Seline had other stuff to tell him, glaring at him and then changing her mind. Isaiah would have liked to tell her stuff too. But he didn't want to escalate it. Maybe he really was the coward in this.

They weren't together. What worse thing could happen?

Not that it was that bad. He was fine. It wasn't world-ending. He was fine. Really.

"Are you making a soup out of the damn tea or what?" Matthew's raspy voice brought him back to the present.

Isaiah shook himself off his trance and finally put the water into the cup with the mint tea. He didn't want to make it too strong, before he brought it over.

"Put the light off, will you?"

Isaiah complied, cringing inside at the ordering and the tone. Between Seline and himself, he didn't expect Matt to snap first. Maybe that was his fault too.

The tea filling the room with its clouds of steam and Matt taking up all of the couch, Isaiah sat down on the floor. He patted Matt's leg. "Try some of it?"

There was a gasp breath like Matt wanted to speak, but a soft burp came up instead.

"At least tell me what's wrong. What part of your stomach hurts?"

Matt grumbled something under his breath.

"Matt?"

"Just...overall, okay? It's bloated and painful and your questions are annoying."

"Right," Isaiah said tiredly.

Long silence followed. Isaiah would have thought Matt fell asleep, except his breathing kept catching at weird intervals.

"Wanna try lying in bed? Maybe stretching out-"

Matt curled up on the couch even more, all protective on his side around his upset stomach. There was a soft groan. "Leave me alone. Go to fuck to sleep or whatever, don't stay up."

Isaiah got up with a sigh, glad for the glimmer of sympathy of being send to sleep. He sat down on the edge, draping himself across Matthew's legs. His eyes were so heavy and the turned off lights were putting him to sleep. "No can do. You can ask for anything else though."

Matt froze up a little at the contact, squirming under the weight.

Isaiah suppressed a yawn and put a hand on top of Matt's shoulder, rubbing up and down. His eyes were drooping.

"Come back right after school tomorrow?" Matt said into the quiet darkness.

Isaiah swallowed heavily. "Okay."

[raayllum]

Hello again! So I think that the Review Fic-Athon is a genius idea (would you care if I held one at some point? Maybe post Season Seven to help give it a boost in the ratings?)

But also, after seeing your post, I made an IMDb and a Rotten Tomatoes account (also convinced a friend to do the same) and started reviewing! I'm planning to review all the seasons on Rotten Tomatoes and all the episodes on IMDb, but that's a lot of fics, so I'm not gonna make you write all those. So I'll just ask this;

I reviewed all the seasons on Rotten Tomatoes (under Bunny T) so wanted to submit an ask for a ficlet with some Soren & Ezran post destruction of Katolis stuff? I'd love to see your take on (spoilers to anyone who wants to know nothing about what they showed at NYCC) post 07x01 with Soren standing by angry King Ezran, but also maybe knowing that this isn't the path Ezran really wants to go down? #let ezran be messy and all. Thx!! (sorry this is so long 😅)

Absolutely feel free to ask for more fics as reviews roll in, 100% tis the point!! And yess feel free to replicate the idea for TDP or even other fandoms - the more fics and reviews the merrier! Your kind words and efforts are already much appreciated <33 + bonus playlist I listen to most of the time when I'm writing Ez

Ezran took his first steps at the foot of King Harrow's throne.

Soren had been there, one of Viren's hands clasped tightly over his shoulder—him and Claudia had been playing loudly outside the doors and instead of dismissing them (Viren's mouth opening raw and angry, eyes understanding only for his sister) King Harrow had invited them in to play with Callum, who was trying to show Ez how to (quietly) stack blocks.

The younger prince had been more interested in trying to get his father's attention, tugging on Harrow's sleeve with the thumb of his other hand stuck in his tiny mouth. Harrow had been wrapped up in discussing matters with Viren, so a determined Ezran had hoisted himself up on the edge of the throne, and then toddled forward on unsteady legs—effectively stealing everyone's intention, drawn in by Callum's excited gasp—and any matters of state had been forgotten for most of the afternoon.

Ezran sits in the charred, ash-ridden throne now, just tall enough his feet can touch the floor... and still so young it makes Soren's heart hurt sometimes.

"What's taking them so long?" Ez mutters. Corvus and Callum had gone to track Sol Regem to the Valley of Graves.

"Sol Regem is blind and got pretty injured," Soren considers. "He might've made it to one of the forests to hide and nurse his wounds."

Ezran's eyes darken like embers losing their warmth. "We'll make sure he doesn't recover from his injuries, then. Use his wounded state to our advantage."

Soren winces. ...a dead dragon all in one day? Everything's coming up Soren. "I know he attacked us, but—isn't killing an archdragon really difficult? Viren—" I've given up dark magic, until he hadn't, both a far cry from the confident, ruthless man he'd been, taking pilgrimages to the border in search of unicorns for most of Soren's youth. "It takes a lot to kill them. Dark magic."

"We'll find a way. He has to be punished for his crimes."

And it's not that Soren disagrees, even. They can't let Sol Regem get away with things. He attacked Katolis, so deciding what to do with him is within their range. But... there's something natural, and twisty, and uncomfortable, about those words coming from Ezran's mouth, an anger Soren has ever seen before on his young friend—young king's face.

"I know, King Ezran," Soren says carefully, a lump in his throat. He breathes and places a hand on his sword. "You just... don't have to be judge, jury, and executioner all at once."

That's what a crownguard (what once a high mage) is for. The last one, at least.

Ezran is a child sitting in the ruins of his home, and he doesn't need blood on his hands, even if he wants it.

(At the Banther Lodge, when Rayla and Callum sneak in to bust out Runaan—he'll be executed in the morning, Ez had decreed, eyes venomous—Soren turns a blind eye.

He swore to do whatever it took to protect the king, and that includes Ezran's good heart from doing things that can't be undone, even if the boy can't see it yet.)

[ikuudo]

TAKITON! Fashion Week ✨

“Smile for the Agora.”

timelapse:

my two navy OCs

Black hair: Andre Lai, The “Executioner” / 20 years old / A navy officer who is in search of his mother’s killer, and the reason behind it.

Blonde hair: Sol Jinhao, “Tornado” / 20 years old / Andre’s partner in crime, who gets caught up in a much bigger mess than he ever expected - now a target for the same person who killed Andre’s mother.

[bluntblade]

One thing that I really love about The Acolyte is the way in which Osha's story emerges as a dark mirror to Rey's in TLJ.

With TLJ, I found there was something really effective in how Johnson wrote Rey's temptation not as her being a mere 30 Anger Points from turning Dark Side, but as her being at risk of making a terrible mistake which would lead to the Dark. Which, for me, is very much the sum of Osha's decisions in the last act of The Acolyte. She doesn't pledge herself to the fight for Dark Side supremacy and vow to crush democracy, but she does choose the self-serving and unforgiving option.

Qimir's argument isn't about Powah, in the Sheev sense. He's not pitching her supremacy over the Galaxy. Instead, he pushes Osha to claim a subtler kind of power, and to decide that, contrary to Jedi ideology, she has the right to be judge, jury and executioner, and to dole out death to those who hurt or impede her. That's why, when she confronts him about his killings, he doesn't even address the idea that murdering any of the Jedi was wrong. Yord wronged her, Jecki wouldn't have been what Osha wanted her to be. Through his prism, that's all it takes for him, and Osha, to be justified in killing.

Moreover, in murdering Sol, Osha gives Qimir the leverage to make her his pupil, at the cost of Mae's memories - which is to say that, just as Rey would've done had she gone along with Kylo's offer, she sacrifices the last other person she cared about. Perhaps Mae will gain peace with Vernestra (though I have my doubts there), but she's doing so having given up well over a decade of the memories that make her who she is. Incidentally for extra horror, just watch Severance and then consider this story in light of that show's subject matter.

Obviously there are major differences, but ultimately it comes down to the same choice, presented to a young woman, along with the sad truth about her family.

[vonev]

The Executioner (and the judge) I

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Chapter 1: end it all, where it started;

Part I Part II

Words: 2.2k Warnings: Graphic depictions of gore and violence Summary: You somehow end up in an unforeseen predicament, now facing the horrors and fears of your past, meeting old faces, would it all come crashing down? Maybe after seeing his face again, it'll all make sense.

a/n: this premise was so fun to write, please enjoy the prologue!

Pitter-patter

Wet footsteps reverberate in the echoes of the empty hallway, its pace set to a slow, cautious tempo. A stained rifle clutched in your hand; eyes trailing the narrow hallway, subconsciously drinking in the cracks and dents in the walls around you.

It’s quiet, silence becoming its own company, with only the muffled tap-tap-tap of your boots avoiding the limbs of the corpses fills void where once voices were: people’s chatter, the ghost of their laughter teasing the air like a past lover’s touch. There but, not there. 

Blood pools on the cold concrete floor. Some dried, some still rather fresh, mix with water dripping from the ceiling above: you get the disgusting squelching noises under you.

Soon—the sight of an entry greets you as you round a sharp corner. Pushing the squeaky door open with your fingers, you take in the sight that you’ve grown familiar with.

Bodies. Laying out like a feast at a ball; limp figures decorate what was once a lively lobby, red from the people painted over walls that used to confine an entire organization, families, friends—teammates.

You find that your soles lead you further into the room, painfully bright fluorescent lights flicker overhead; the air is biting, despite the slowly crumbling walls keeping out breezes from the outside with its best efforts. Somewhere along the way, a beeping from a still functioning telephone rings, piques your full attention.

Your body functions on auto-pilot: and you, a mere bystander, watching the way your body moves closer to the source of the ringing. 

Right down the vast lobby, through the tight spaces of the cramped hallway, in a room you remembered to be storage—sitting prettily next to the busted ceiling remnants is someone’s personal phone: you take in the cracked screen as you neared, shards of glasses crunches under your boots, head tilting slightly to the side in amazement at how it was still alive.

In this building, only you breathe the soiled air.

The handphone vibrates violently on the floor, its screen showing a pop-up of the caller. A middle-aged looking woman who wears a smile that could rival against even sol itself. 

You don’t pick up.

It goes straight to voice-mail, a sign that you’ve stood there over the phone longer than comfortable.

“Hey honey, I know you’re busy, but I just saw the news.”

Silence.

Ruffling of fabric: skin on clothes, the sound of the constant shuffling around on the other side of the phone indicates the nervousness of the woman’s demeanor—without even seeing her face.

“The explosion wave was so close to your building, I’m worried, son. I knew you shouldn’t have signed up for that—“

A quiet, trembling groan.

“—to leave me all the way here and move out to that country, your poor mother, and now I don’t even know—“

‘If you’re alive’ was most likely the drifting words caught in her tongue. Pure denial laced in her voice: as if not muttering the words would stop her son from waving at the grim reaper himself. 

“—I hope you get this, and when you do…”

The quiet sniffles of the mother reach your eardrums, you hold in your breath.

“—Please…please call me back okay?”

She chokes out in her sobs, full-on heaving over the voice-mail, her tears could be felt even through the small speaker on the phone.

“I love you.”

With a shaky breath, the voice-mail ends.

Drinking in the quiet murmurs of the wind that found its way through the crack of the door behind you, your eyes soon register the bloodied hand next to the tiny gadget.

Nose scrunching up in disdain, you take in the brain matter that splattered all over the floor, the hand you previously noticed connects toward the body that has been swallowed up by the heavy collapsed cement of the ceiling, unrecognizable even if you’d try to piece the little remains of the body together.

Somewhere out there is a mother who would never see her child ever again. Struggling to mend her broken heart over the loss of her child, just as those families and friends who would never find their loved ones’ bodies that disappeared underneath the crumbled walls.

And somewhere out there, is someone who will never find peace with the cruel world—it takes, it takes and takes. A one-sided exchange; for the universe could care less about a freckle of dust in the swarm of many millions. 

You’re on your own—

—loneliness tastes bittersweet on the tip of your tongue.

The town was in shambles.

It was a miracle you survived, out of the tens of thousands who fell victim to the catastrophic disaster that struck. 

Why?

No clue. 

The universe loves playing sick jokes on you—always taunting, relentless, never giving an ounce of mercy in your name. You nick the skin around your fingertips, the fireplace cackles in front of your figure, its warmth engulfing you like a mother’s embrace. Dazed, mesmerized by the swirls of the flame, your mind wanders off. 

It has been a couple of months since you resided in the bunker near your home, luckily for you, due to your father’s paranoia; you’ve always had a stacked basement full of all the necessary resources. Canned foods, water, weapons, everything. Except for a comfortable mattress to sleep on.

You know, just in case—and this is the case.

Papers strewn across the mahogany desk you’ve spent countless sleepless nights at. The desk lamp a soft glow, illuminating the pages underneath its sturdy body. Glossing over the words on the file, eyes scanning every word on every inch of the paper. 

Months ago, you had taken a long stroll around what used to be where your town sat, now instead occupied by the distraught of conflict; of war. Ashes contaminate the air, fallen buildings and bodies laid about—the vehicles weren’t spared of the mercy either, joining the abundance piles of rubbles outside. It was a sight alright.

It’s the natural devastating result of wars; of national conflicts. 

There’s always a price to pay. 

Unfortunately for many, innocents are usually the ones at stake: they pay with their lives. Their blood bath spilled the most out on the field, not the soldiers, not the perpetrators—the civilians. It has always irked you, an annoying itch in the back of your head, a bothersome subconscious thought. 

You click the pen held in your palm against the hardwood table, the steady rhythm of it occupies the silence of the room. 

Viktor Romanov.

A name that sings despair, injustice, dismay. 

The stacks upon stacks of jumbled files sitting at the corners of your room says a lot. You’ve done your fair share of research; surface insights regarding his whereabouts, the predicted state of conditions. Being ex-military specialized in combat and intelligence has its benefits at times, picking up good intel skills has gotten you far, far in life. 

7 years of service since 18. All reduced down to being able to dig dirt and shoot better than the average person.

It wasn’t particularly an easy task prying into his past; but having had worse experiences, you make-do, adapting to the poor circumstances you’re dealt with. 

Whew. You’re in for a ride.

He was the sole reason behind your early ‘retirement’ at the age of 25 instead of your original plan to serve 20 years (free healthcare for life, woo!) and banished from the military for good. It was all against your wishes.

Also the same man that bombed your town.

A small, rather secluded town. One built up from its traumatizing past of warfare and bloodshed, just to end up where it started: in the gutter. A place where you originally ran to after hardships and scars that still haunts your nightmares—somewhere safe, sound and definitely away from prying eyes. Yet, they found you. Even after years and years of covering your tracks, practically having your presence wiped off of everywhere. They still found you. After all this time, he’s still obsessed with you: why else would he drop a bomb in the middle of nowhere in Argentina?

Him.

You’ve got to give it to him—to the public eye, he’s got a clean slate. He doesn’t scream ‘I murder innocents for breakfast, lunch and dinner’ but rather ‘I will solve all your problems with one look’. Hence why the public opinion loves him: to them, he's sweet, caring of his people and always gives back. They're unaware of the dirty business ran behind their backs; the lives he's casually taken out of spite and for the fun of it. Anything to satiate his thirst for blood, for power.

Deceit runs in his blood, and his family, in fact.

Throughout the decades, he’s managed to scramble his way out of the numerous controversies his family was involved in—infidelity, assassination attempts, scandalous involvement with the opposing units. You name it, he’s got it all stamped under Romanov’s name.

A tainted sheet; yet now clean of its impure past, only a goody-two-shoes mascot in the place of a new form of tyranny.

You yearn for his downfall; watch as the power slips away from in front his eyes, observe the way the structure he’s built crumbles under his very gaze—you seek revenge. 

Where would you start, though?

“Fucking nuisance,” you grumble under your breath. Spinning around in your office chair, head tilting back as you stare up into the ceiling, defeated. Sometimes, you ponder the trajectory of your life if everything had gone according to plan: retire after 2 decades of hard work, maybe start a family, or live a fulfilling life of content and peace. Something to look forward to every morning you awake, every breath you take in the field; it would make all the heads you’ve dropped worth it. Yet it didn’t.

It didn’t; because of a single silver-spoon fed toddler who happened to be born from a family of riches, connections and power. Power of authority, of the absolute his words wield. ‘Yes Viktor.’ ‘I will do that for you, Viktor.’ ‘Anything you’ll ever wish for, Viktor.’ 

His word goes, and so does his command. 

Which begs the question: what would be the most satisfying way to tear a tyrant from their throne?

You never truly believed in the death sentence in law—as sadistic as it sounds, you’ve always been a firm believer of having the person suffer the same amount of agony they put their victims through. Let their suffering be drawn out for all to see; to deliver justice for those who were deserving. 

Maybe you’d rip out his eyes from the sockets, a deep knife wound puncturing dangerously close to his heart; or maybe, even lure him under a false sense of comfort, just to pull the rug from underneath him and make him fall into the abyss, the realization that he will live a life of anguish. Maybe even strip his skin bare and watch his face contort in pain no one has ever—

—your alarm blares in your ears, making you flinch back into full consciousness. You dart your eyes around the room, as though your guilt would manifest into a being and eat you alive; lucky for you, it doesn’t.

A sigh escapes your lips.

“Maybe I should get therapy.”

Days, weeks, months go by. Not a single day where you had taken a proper rest, nor eaten a true meal that doesn’t consist of dry sweetened cereal, tea and your saliva. No, you feed on the twinge of revenge at the tip of your tongue for fuel, for motivation. All to pin his location down—

—as you stare at the doodled map under your gaze, you feel lethargic; giddy, even. You finally found him. Not just his estimated location, his exact position. You could even picture the way he’s relaxing in his armchair, unaware of the catastrophe gradually approaching him. A smirk teases the end of your lips, threatening to break through with every passing second at the thought of his life in the palm of your hand.

You’ll end it off where it all started—

—Urzikstan.

You had been preparing for the fight ahead: a backpack packed full of guns, pocket knives, a grenade or two and some rations; anything to get by. But first, you’ll have to take another way of travel; god forbid the international airport hunts you down for bringing in weapons to traverse the international water. Luck was on your side though, because you know just the person to contact. An old friend; where you both used to share laughs over drinks and nights spent pouring your hearts out, someone that always has a place in your heart.

As you punch her number into your throwaway phone, you bite your lips in anticipation.

Would she still remember you? After all, you should be dead, not alive and breathing hiding away in a bunker no one else knew existed. A part of you feels like you’ve been lying to her; that she would scoff and turn away at the sound of your voice—because technically, you did leave her without a second notice nor a proper goodbye, and to everyone else: you were dead. Or worse, what if she changed her numbers? Your efforts would’ve been absolutely futile.

But if she picked up, it would mean seeing the people you’ve abandoned, the way their eyes would scrutinize you for leaving them—you were a team, after all.

The 141.

And him.

The image of a skull printed balaclava flashes across your mind like a fleeting memory, you feel the corner of your eyes wet, the back of your head dulls as his face now taunts your mind. You taste iron on your tongue: your blood. You had gotten carried away and somehow bit yourself in nervousness. The blue screen shines on your face, the numbers written across the screen; all you have to do now is to press the green button, to call.

And you do.

The dial indicates it’s going through; that she still has the same number even after so long.

…

Okay, why isn’t she picking up?

Maybe your fears came through: that she still has your number memorized and saved, thinking that some stranger is behind the other side. Or maybe she grew tired of you, that she wouldn’t need your presence back in her life. Maybe—

“Hello?”

—maybe it was worth it all.

[ggstcorruptionau]

okay survivors time

there are currently 20 survivors, they've all separated into little groups. I call them camps since that is what they are. alright, now I will talk of them in more detail.

If you want to live, it’s tip one is to get in a group and set up a camp. So, there are groups of course. This goes in-depth on those groups.

as a baseline, the camps are

The Medics

The Wanderers

In Hiding

That Man

Chipp Bound

Each camp has a few different roles, they kinda speak for themselves but I'll explain anyway

Guard - They protect the camp, usually the best in combat for the group does this.

Lookout - Taking this role means you must always be at your camp, but you keep an eye out for other survivors, the corrupted and for when your gatherers get back.

Gatherer - You gather food and other supplies for your camp, usually this is very dangerous since sometimes what you may need could be really dangerous to go grab.

Medic - you help your injured. I don't think this needs much more explanation.

and now is the part where I leave the thing so people who don't want to read more can go.

now to talk more in depth

THAT MAN

This camp is Asuka, Jacko, and Raven. They all technically classify as being in hiding, but they're trying to help from.. wherever they are. Though there's only so much they can do. Raven can head out if they need someone out there.

THE WANDERERS

this camp is Sin, Jam, Sol and May.

The Wanderers group is usually on the move, usually in pairs. Each member of this group has a specific role that they stick to, to keep the group safe.

Sin is considered the leader of this group, somewhat. Though Sol usually lends him a hand in making sure the camp is safe. This group is thusly very secure despite always being on the move.

Roles:

Sin - Leader(?), Guard. 

Sol - Guard

May - Lookout

Jam - Gatherer

May often stays in the camp, she doesn’t sleep unless the camp is under a grace period so it's not uncommon for Jam to try and find something to aid her in staying awake. Coffee, usually. Though making it is a nightmare and finding it is equally as hard so it tends to be just whatever she can find.

This group is usually in the most fights since they’re constantly on the move so they all tend to encounter more of the corrupt compared to the other camp-based group, Medic. Generally, this leads to them spending a lot of time tending to their injuries. They don't have a dedicated medic but Jam tends to do this since she often trades things for medicine and the like with Medic.

All members of this group are uninjured and healthy, but May’s sanity is beginning to leave her, the rest of the group are sane.

THE MEDICS (OR JUST MEDIC)

Medic is a group that mostly stays in the middle of nowhere, near a pillaged village. They have stayed in the same place since they all found each other. Mostly, this group dedicates itself to finding a way to cure the corrupted. 

Faust - Leader. The main one researching the cure. 

Fanny - Gatherer. Trying to find things to use to attempt to find the cure.

Venom - Guard. His skills as an assassin are helpful. Faust is a bit standoffish to him sometimes but Venom doesn’t seem to mind or care.

Bedman - ??? What he does here is unclear, he can’t help since he’s sleeping and he doesn’t tend to help guard. How he isn’t dead is a mystery.

Paracelsus - Lookout. Does.. does he need sleep?

Venom, while attempting to assist in the cure, is also on the search for where Robo-Ky’s body is. So that they may bring Robo-Ky back to consciousness.

All members of this group are Healthy, but Venom has a leg injury, Paracelsus feels his sanity slipping and Fanny has some cuts here and there from a bad encounter with The Executioner that she barely escaped. Apart from that, the rest of the group is sane and uninjured.

CHIPP-BOUND

This notably includes Baiken, Answer and Izuna

The Tyrant will spare you if you listen to him, and usually, he demands you be one of his people. These survivors listened for their safety. There isn’t much to say, they all are just trying to live normal lives while constantly in danger of getting chipped. 

All members of this group are uninjured and healthy but sanity slips for all of them sadly.

IN HIDING

Currently, this is Slayer, Sharon, Happy Chaos, and Ariels. They aren't all hiding together side from Happy Chaos and Ariels I guess? But we know why that is.

okay now my asks are so wide open that they're a crater

also thank you to the anon who sent me words of encouragement, means a lot :)

[the-clownhaj]

[Clownhaj remembers something...]

"my name is Juno Sol Affinito. I am of Umbra Regni. I am a high ranking knight, in charge of the borders of our kingdom. My twin sister, Luna, our kingdom's executioner, had recently gone missing. Please, help us find her."

How tragic. Can't a man have hobbies, like mysteriously disappearing and never coming back? If I want to be a shark, I'll be a damn shark. Juno's got to chill it, he's always been dramatic but god... This is embarrassing.

Darius? Come on, you're gonna miss dinner. Stella Made a really nice meal, let's not get her upset.

I'll be there in a moment, Vivi.

[...It was a painful memory.]