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empire-reblogs · 2 months ago

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It has come to my attention that someone believes that I’ve plagiarized them with this account. I’m not going to ask who it was because I don’t want anyone to be possibly singled out. I’ve gotten only an ask or two about it when I first started out, but I just want everyone to know that any similarities between characters is purely coincidental. I’m a firm believer in not copying someone else’s work and doing work of my own, but I do also understand that some tropes come with similarities and I’m thinking that is what happened here. Not all similarities are copying! I think it’s interesting that two minds can share similar ideas and have their own twists on them!

Anyways this has been bothering me for some time (which is why I’m taking a small break actually) and I just want people to know that I’m not purposely stepping on toes by being here, I’m just looking for an outlet to write!

That’s my little rant for now, I’ll try to work on being more active in the future

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Leelah☀️: oh dear…seems to be a lot going on around there

Maniac – Escape

There’s a pounding in his chest as his eyes slowly begin to open. Panic, unfamiliar and cloying, spreads through his veins like a poison as Chan tries to get his bearings. Wasn’t he finishing up on his VIP event schedule? Where is he? He pulls himself to get up and oh. He can’t move. He’s bound with chains to whatever it is he’s lying prone upon, and the pounding in his chest grows louder by the second. So does the rattling of metal as he yanks on his bindings, desperate to get out of here as soon as he can.

Out. He needs to get out.

He can’t piece together what lead to this. Everything about the event booking was simple, a no-frills affair; help set up security, be part of said security and then end his night by escorting the host back to their car. In fact, he practically begged Seungmin to book him, despite the bookkeeper’s concerns.

The breath he finally manages to take has Chan wishing he never did. It reeks of blood, sweat and some god-awful chemical, overpowering and knocking out whatever thought he had left. That chemical in particular, it’s making him dizzy, his eyes bleary and focused as he tries to keep his sight on the only source of light available.

And then there’s too much light.

“Relax, Christopher.” There’s a voice. Someone’s here but he’s too blinded by the light to see. “Keep struggling like that and you’re going to bruise.”

“Then let me out you—”

A needle, long and sharp. And then pressure, something forcing its way into his veins. The pain is unbearable, burning through his system as he arches off of the surface he’s lying on.

“Just a little longer, hm? And then you’ll get your second dose.”

Chan screams his throat raw.

Part of Hyunjin is really starting to regret offering to go look for Chan now. It’s late, he’s doing this alone, and now that April’s just started, he’s a damned ferret too. Honestly, could the man have picked a worse time to go missing? He stalks the streets like a predator, steps perfectly measured while he checks every back alley and side street he comes across. All the bartender knows is that the older man’s schedule was somewhere in the vicinity, but he’s not finding anything of actual use.

His informants have come up empty too, Hyunjin’s favours almost entirely cashed in.

Almost about ready to give up his search of yet another side street, he pauses, a flash of light catching in his eyes as he walks past. It’s familiar, the scent of coffee and hand cream. He gets closer, finally seeing the benefit of his new hybrid body and it’s a phone.

It’s Chan’s phone.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” he sighs, picking up the device and grimacing at the surface level crack that runs across the screen. “Just where has your owner disappeared to, hmm? Worrying us all half sick.”

Worrying someone else too, it seems, as Hyunjin unlocks the phone—really, Chan should be updating the password, it’s criminally easy—and reads through the series of messages. All from that pretty Italian he’s seen the older man gush about. It’d be cute, if the situation at hand wasn’t so urgent.

Leo: Hey are you alive? [21:05]

Leo: Haven’t heard from you in a while [21:06]

Leo: Did I do something wrong? [21:53]

Leo: …whatever I got the hint I hope you have a happy life Christopher [22:36]

Ouch. Hyunjin tuts as he sets about copying the number into his own device, sending his own set of messages to this Leo fellow. It’s a shame, really, all of this happening just as he’s dear hyung open up to new people again. Almost makes him feel proud. His conversation with Leo is quick enough, and Hyunjin returns to his search, phone pocketed and ferret-induced instincts nipping at his heels.

There has to be something that’ll lead him to Chan.

Midnight looms over Hyunjin as he checks the next side street, mild exhaustion pulling at every limb as he calls for the older man. He’s been at this for hours now, the chill finally starting to seep through his clothes and Hyunjin really does not want to succumb to his temporary instincts and shift. He won’t be able to cover enough ground if he’s a small ferret. Nor will he be able to help if he’s going to have to deal with a grey wolf.

Except whatever’s looking at him right now, isn’t just grey.

“…Chan hyung?” No answer, just a beast staring at him, it’s green, venomous eyes boring holes through the bartender’s skull. It can’t be him, can it? “Chris, darling, is that you? Where have you been, hm?”

Nothing. It just keeps…looking.

It has to be him.

Hyunjin falters, takes one step back and it’s too late.

The creature—Chan—lunges.

Pain blossoms behind Hyunjin’s eyes as he’s pinned to the ground, chest heaving as he stares right into wild eyes. Squirming does nothing. He’s stuck here, fighting the ever-growing urge to shift as the wolf that is his beloved Chan hyung bares its teeth and sniffs like Hyunjin is set to be his next meal. He can hold out just a little longer, just long enough for Seungmin, or Changbin, or anyone to catch onto the faint digital trail he’s been leaving behind.

Because the moment he succumbs to his hybrid urges, Hyunjin feels a bite.

The world goes cold.

The bar’s been empty all weekend, closed to everyone bar the most important of clients. Regardless, no one’s got the presence of mind to focus on their responsibilities, and Changbin is no exception. His body itches with this need to do something; chase leads, call people, go out and look for himself, anything. When a Maine coon brushes against his jittery leg, he forces an exhale, Minho’s intent clear as day.

Relax, you’re just gonna tire yourself out Changbin-ah

“I know…I know, just—” Changbin sighs, not protesting when Minho climbs onto him to get access to the bar counter. The cat curls up, the perfect picture of peace. Though Changbin can see the way Minho’s ears are pressed flat against his head. Stressed.

“Hey, Seungmin-ah?”

“Mhm?” Seungmin doesn’t look up from his seat at one of the tables, laptop on and all of a sudden Changbin doesn’t feel like adding to the pressure the younger man’s been put under. “…Changbin hyung?”

“N-nothing, just… say if you find anything, yeah? I’m gonna get some air.”

Fresh air helps a little. It’s easier to breathe now that there’s a breeze, and the streets are vaguely empty. Good. This area of Gangnam always tends to be a little quieter when Maniac isn’t open for business. Which also means he can allow for his hybrid features to show, two drooping bunny ears framing his face. They’re useful, in a way. He’s able to hear more, pick up on the little things he wouldn’t be able to any other time.

Just like how he hears two vials clink together on the ground.

Changbin freezes. Turning to the sound and approaching, he hardly registers the way he calls for Seungmin, a strange terror clawing its way through his throat. Why is he feeling this way? He moves on auto pilot, eventually finding the damned vials he’s been hearing, and oh.

“Hyung, what is it? What did you—”

Oh.

“It’s Seo Pharmaceuticals.”

Changbin wants to be sick.

#Leelah☀️

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Koen🏹: bringer of death huh? Must work pretty quickly since I’ve never seen you and I’m always around death.

Azrael

Azrael the touch of death

5’11”

Dark brown, slightly curly hair

Tanned skin with a light dusting of freckles across his face and shoulders

Demigod form has large jackal ears that are covered in golden piercings, similar to his human ears

Golden/hazel eyes that appear to glow slightly

Can bring upon death with a single touch, sometimes uncontrollably

Has a demigod form where he is much larger and posses some jackal features that he inherited from his father but also scales across his cheeks from his mother

Plot 1: You didn’t necessarily mind working in a bad part of town. Sure, everything is a little suspicious, you have to leave and show up so early and late that the sun isn’t quite up or has already set. Otherwise, the pay is decent and it’s relatively close to your house, which is also good because transportation is an expense you don’t look forward to either.

Tonight is no exception to the leaving late rule. It’s nearly nine when you finally make your way out of the building, making sure to lock it up behind you. Just a normal day. That’s how you convince yourself that nothing bad could happen to you. It’s worked so far.

Seems like your luck has run out this time though as you’re swiftly pulled into a dark alley, the smell of garbage filling your nostrils telling you that you’re relatively close to a dumpster. That’s probably the metal that you can feel pressed into your arm. The brick from the building you’re pressed against digs into your back and leaves scratch marks on the exposed backside of your arms. Your attacker reeks of alcohol.

He asks for your money, you hand him whatever you have on you, he scoffs. He’s disappointed by your offer, but who really has cash on them in this day and age? You even offer up your cards but he’s smart, smarter than he’d like to let on, and declines. No trail, how great. You are going to die over twenty bucks.

The man that holds you against the wall suddenly loses his grip, a strangled sound escaping his throat as if something were wrong. Had it been anyone else, you would ask if he’s okay, all things considered though, you don’t care for his wellbeing. Instead, you just watch as he hits the floor, blood pooling out of his mouth and onto the concrete below. Standing behind your attackers now motionless body, is another man. He holds a blank stare and his hand was out as if he had just touched someone on the shoulder. You don’t even wait for him to say anything before you flee the scene, but you could feel those cold eyes watching you go.

Plot 2: the town you grew up in is small, not exactly poor, but not exactly well off either. It’s one of those towns that people pass through and wonder if anyone really lives there. The town that has many stories about it floating around that picture the place full of ghosts, vampires, or some other supernatural monstrosity. In reality, it’s just exactly what it looks like, a small town.

There’s an older woman at the top of your street. She lives alone, no kids come to check on her, she can hardly do anything on her own, and somehow it became your task to care for her. You bring her groceries, help her with laundry, pretty much do anything she may need you to do to help keep her up and going. Your payment for this? Her stories. It isn’t the payment you want, not at all, but it’s what she has to offer.

Some of the stories are light and fun. Stories of fairies and mermaids that live just out of reach from humans, but they leave little things around such as fairy rings on the ground after a particularly heavy rainfall or those special in tact sea shells that wash up on the shore. They make themselves known, that is if you know what you’re looking for. Other stories are dark and depressing. Tales of war that leave entire villages without food for weeks. Where families are lost and cannot find one another again until years have passed and they are on the opposite sides of the new war.

One of her favorite stories is a mix of both of these. She tells tales about her past lover, a man so striking that he would leave all the women swooning over him, but he chose her to love and marry. She tells about how they were able to grow old and have children together, even though they had more than a few hiccups along the way. The story grew dark toward the end though, when her husband falls ill with an incurable disease. A disease that causes suffering, forgetfulness, and overall just a painful existence. She speaks about praying for death for her husband, reaching out to every god known to man yet she is only met with silence.

The story ends when she tells of a young man appearing at their doorstep. A handsome fellow who only says that he has heard her prayers and that he can offer what she wants. She described the man as on the taller side, almost unusually so, with dark dog ears peeking through the mop of curls. He’s young, hardly old enough to call a man at that time, but he does exactly what she asked and gives her husband a painless death before vanishing like he never came.

You’re older now than you were when she would tell you those stories. You were just a kid when she was spitting all that nonsense, but you’re back home again and you want to see her. Your family says she isn’t doing well and you wanted the opportunity to say goodbye.

You hear her speaking as you walk into her home, the door unlocked as usual. You expect to see her family when you enter her bedroom, but instead you are met with a scene that has you thinking every story she told you was true. A man, quite tall with large dog-like ears, kneels beside the woman’s bed. Her hand is held within his as she babbles about her late husband in a hushed, tired tone. You watch in a mix of horror and fascination as the woman seemingly drifts off to sleep before the man stands. He catches your eye for only a moment before you gasp and hide behind the wall separating the woman’s room from the hallway. When you peek again, the man is gone.

Plot 3: come up with something new or add to/take away from the first two! You don’t have to use one of these, they are just suggestions! (I do have the right to deny any plot I dont feel comfortable with)

💭Inspirations: @livealittleoc-cb @oc-empire

Possible rp partners: @favegirls-ocbot @moonlit-nights-club @violettaamore @timmburrton @folklore-cb @halloween-cb @nightskysing @badbf-cb @clubwnderland @multi-joong @dragonrider-cb @hybrid-babies @redlight-cb (dm to be +/-!)

Art and photos do not belong to me!

#koen🏹

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Leelah☀️: a familiar with no owner? I thought familiars were always created by witches and died when they did. How interesting!

Ambrose

Ambrose the wandering familiar

6’0”

Longer black hair

Well built, much larger than expected at first glance

Dark brown eyes

Ability to turn into whatever animal his current owner wishes for

Magical knowledge (spells, potions)

Plot 1: Another unsuccessful date. Great. You had planned everything out, a lavish dinner with a view of the city, ice cream afterwards, a nice walk around the park. Now you’re sulking on your walk back home, ice cream melting in your hands since you insisted on doing everything on your own after being stood up. That seemed to be common now. People would act interested online or on those subpar dating apps, make plans, and then either call off or just simply fail to show up. The latter happened this time. You were too embarrassed to leave the restaurant without eating or else you would have been home ages ago.

With a deep sigh that released the last thread of pride you had hanging on, you reached the end of the parks trail, cut off courtesy of a fallen tree from last weeks storm blocking the rest of the way. Just my luck. Your self loathing turned into anger rather quickly and you chucked the half-eaten icecream cone at the nearest tree as if that would help. Saying it didn’t somewhat calm your nerves would be a lie. It did help even just the slightest. That is until you look to the ground where the discarded cone had fallen and guilt fills the place where the anger once rested.

Under the tree, now covered in ice cream, lay a black cat who looked less than amused by your actions. You’re surprised it didn’t run off once the icecream landed on it in the first place. As you take a careful step forward and crouch down, you can see exactly why the cat hadn’t run away. Its leg looked injured, pretty badly at that, and it just looked so tired, almost as if it were on the verge of giving up right then and there. Even more pride got swallowed as you peeled off your jacket and picked the cat up with it, wrapping it tightly to make sure it couldn’t attack but not so tightly that you would injure it before hauling it off to your house.

About an hour later, after you had made a makeshift bed for the cat, wiped the ice cream off of it, and placed it in front of the heater, you decided to care for yourself. The emotions felt through the day had finally taken a toll on your body and you desperately wanted a shower. You part with the cat with one more pat on its head and the promise of a trip to the vet early in the morning.

Your shower was calming, the warm water does wonders of washing away the poor excuse of a date, if you could even call it that, and the emotions that followed. You’re almost ready for bed when you remember the small companion you had picked up on your way and decide to do one final check up before actually trying to sleep. You drag yourself back into the living room where the cat was left, nearly half asleep before you find the makeshift bed empty. All that was left was a note on your coffee table, written in neat cursive on one of your spare journals.

‘Thank you for the help, but I prefer my ice cream not all over me.’

Plot 2: “Come on,come on… dammit!” You sit crosslegged on your bedroom floor, an old book in front of you as you lean over it for what feels like the eighth hour in a row. In reality, it’s only been about twenty minutes but you’re about ready to give up regardless. You’d found this book second hand, all the way up in the forgotten attic of your parents house as they moved to their new home, allowing you to grab some things that you wanted from the old house. The book interests you in ways you don’t exactly understand. It’s like it called to you when you saw it. The old leather with words from a different language burned onto the cover just brought a sense of mystery to you.

You’d gone through it a few times and only one of the pages was in English, some sort of ritual it looked like, one that required candles, salt, and a little bit of cinnamon. Not exactly a combination you’d expect, but it’s an old book of witchcraft. What should you expect? You aren’t even sure exactly what you’re summoning. A good search on the internet would do wonders, but you’re so stubborn that you decide against it.

A sigh. A hand through your hair. Another failed attempt. Is it really a failure if you don’t know what you’re doing? Yes. If nothing happens it is. Another sigh. Another attempt. Nothing. “Fine!” You yell and close the book with a defeated huff escaping your lips. Surely you would just have to try again later. Right now though, a coffee was in order.

You pack up your things, leaving the book on the floor as if it were some sort of punishment for not doing as you say, before heading out to your favorite coffee shop. The walk did wonders for clearing your head and the coffee did the same for replenishing your energy and will to try with the book one more time.

The lights are on when you arrive home. Strange considering you never leave them on, not trying to run up the electricity bill on your budget. The door is also unlocked. Even more odd. You push your way in regardless, just slightly lore alert than normal. Your surprise is unmatched when you see a tall man standing in your kitchen, back turned to you as he grabs a mug from your collection. You nearly drop your coffee in surprise, but the man just turns to face you with an unimpressed look on his face. What was that spell even for?

Plot 3: come up with something new or add to/take away from the first two! You don’t have to use one of these, they are just suggestions! (I do have the right to deny any plot I dont feel comfortable with)

💭Inspirations: @livealittleoc-cb @oc-empire

Possible rp partners: @favegirls-ocbot @moonlit-nights-club @violettaamore @timmburrton @folklore-cb @halloween-cb @nightskysing @badbf-cb @clubwnderland @multi-joong @dragonrider-cb @hybrid-babies @redlight-cb (dm to be +/-!)

Art and photos do not belong to me!

#leelah☀️

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Rhysand🕊️: woah, you’re like me! But also…way cooler

Micah

Micah the guardian angel

5’10”

White hair

Two pairs of head wings, pair of wings on his back, and a pair on his is ankles

Golden circlet on his head

Heterochromia; right is blue, left is brown

Hands of healing at the cost of his energy

Can fly while carrying someone else

Plot 1: Surely this day can’t get any worse you think to yourself as you walk home, clothing soaked in water and shoes making a nasty sloshing noise as they too are filled with water. Your day had started out just about as bad as it is going currently. Coffee spilled on important work documents, bus missed, late to a meeting, lunch forgotten on counter, and now walking home in the rain in top of all that. ‘Everything happens for a reason!’ Were the useless words thrown to you by your friends who were trying to excuse your shitty say so that you didn’t cancel dinner plans for the third time this week. You really wanted to cancel dinner plans.

“Great.” You mumble as you look at your apartment. Your window was left open, though you don’t even remember opening it in the first place. Your belongings are likely soaked now too, especially since your bed fell within reach of the open window. As you push open the door, something seems off. It’s quiet, but not as quiet as it usually is. There’s footsteps upstairs. Well, not exactly footsteps, more like something thrashing around trying to get out. Your mind travels to the stray cats you see around outside. One probably climbed its way up the tree nearby and jumped into your open window and now wanted out. Fantastic.

You shed your outer layer of clothing and begrudgingly waddle toward your room now that your soaking socks have been discarded into the laundry basket nearby. As you approach, the sounds become louder and more frantic as if whatever it is can hear you coming. You take a deep breath and push open the door, hoping that it will scare whatever it is away enough for you to enter without giving it access to the rest of your apartment. That’s all you need, your entire living area wrecked.

It isn’t a cat that you find though. Not an animal at all, well not a normal one. A man is tangled in your curtains, feet caught in one while his arm hangs from the other, though he isn’t exactly human either. He has wings…everywhere. His face pales as he sees you standing in shock in the doorway and apologies spew from his mouth to try and help the situation. You aren’t listening though. You do, however, hear the words ‘guardian angel’ leave his mouth and any sympathy you had for him goes out the, still very open, window.

“So this is your fault?!”

Plot 2: Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor attached to your body is slowly driving you up a wall. That is the only noise you’ve been able to hear for days, save for the nurses or doctors that come in and silently check on you when they do their rounds. They don’t know you can hear them though and they certainly don’t know you can see them. Your body lay on the hospital bed unmoving for quite some time, though your spirit leans against the window longing to go outside, to feel the warmth rays of the sun on your face and the grass beneath your feet. You sigh. You’ve tried to leave the room that holds your body, but every time you do, some sort of invisible force pulls you right back in. You can’t even make it out the door without slamming back into the blank white wall that houses the television meant to keep conscious patients entertained.

You’re sick of the same voices, the same faces. You’ve learned all of their names. Hell, you’ve even learned some of their other patients names, the ones the nurses talk about when they check on you. The lady in the room next to you just had a baby girl, the man down the hall needs a liver transplant, a little girl with news that her terminal illness has been cured. You wish that you would have news soon. Good, bad, it didn’t matter. Just news.

The door knob jiggles for a moment and you hear a voice you’ve never heard before. Must be a new nurse. You think to yourself. A new face might help cure this dark cloud that looms over your head. Unlikely, but optimism is all you can afford to have now.

The man that walks in is definitely one you’ve never seen before. His white hair is an odd thing to come across, but so is his suit that looks expensive, tailored exactly for him. He wears a hat, one that covers his ears but is still fairly loose, similar to that of a scarf if he were to drape it over the back of his head and sides of his face. Odd attire considering the weather isn’t exactly chilly. He walks over to you, well your body at least, and waits for the nurse to ‘give him some privacy’.

After the woman leaves, he looks up. Not out the window like the doctors do when they need a moment to think, no. He’s looking at you. Directly into your eyes. It takes you off guard, but all he does is smile kindly and reach forward to take your body’s hand. You see a faint glow and then it’s like your back hits the wall, air knocked out of you, and you gasp, sitting up in your bed and blinking. The door shoots open and a few nurses flood in to ask questions and get vitals. The strange man is gone.

Plot 3: come up with something new or add to/take away from the first two! You don’t have to use one of these, they are just suggestions! (I do have the right to deny any plot I dont feel comfortable with)

Just testing the roleplay waters so please let me know any improvements or tips!

💭Inspirations: @livealittleoc-cb @oc-empire

Possible rp partners: @favegirls-ocbot @moonlit-nights-club @violettaamore @timmburrton @folklore-cb @halloween-cb @nightskysing @badbf-cb @clubwnderland @multi-joong @dragonrider-cb @hybrid-babies @redlight-cb (dm to be +/-!)

Art and photos do not belong to me!

#rhysand🕊️#I INSPIRED SOMEONE 🙀

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Hey guys I just wanted to make a little announcement/statement and it goes across both of my accounts so I thought here would be the best place to have it!

I know things are busy and I haven’t been the most active myself, but please please please keep super short responses (1-2 sentences for example) to a minimum. If you aren’t happy with the way I’m writing or if you want to skip to something else, just shoot me a message! I try to be as flexible as possible since I know I’ve been slacking lately.

This isn’t to make anyone feel bad and I’m not singling anyone out, it’s actually a problem with quite a few of my open chats as of late so please don’t apologize if this applies to you! Just be open and honest with me and I’ll do my best to adjust, but I want this to be enjoyable for everyone and these responses tend to discourage me and make it more difficult to want to reply, even to chats where this isn’t happening.

I’d rather wait a while on a longer response than have you rush to give a short one and I hope you feel the same for me

Thanks for reading the mini-rant, I’ve got to sleep now but I look forward to hearing from everyone and continuing to bring these characters to life!

@nightskysing @badbf-cb @clubwnderland @mirage-ocs @silcntxnight @lostwoods-cb @welcome-to-maniac @welcometosector1 @multi-joong @lucky-charmsanhwa @livealittleoc-cb @demigods-ateez @obsession-cb @hwangsiblings-oc @raiden-oc @hearthstone-apothecary @thesugaredalchemists @k-half-blood @dragonrider-cb @hybrid-babies @secretscb @redlight-cb @folklore-cb @vixen-demonscb @kardpackcb @yandere-loves

#admin announcement/rant

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empire-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Jaxson🐺: well if you want the really old traditional talk, I know some people you can talk to. They’ll bow when they meet you, kiss your hand and everything. I won’t do all of that though, no need to worry.