jianfeng-liu-ss3-director

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

OOC: when you forget your accounts and have to eat the local infant hashtag relatable

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

I miss my wife

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

// Faust, you are so pretty. Please give me a chance

I, a woman of science beg of you and grovel before your divinity. Please, give me the answers the stars couldn't scribe to me.

Why must I tread along this Earth with no journey to finish ?

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

My apologies everyone for constant delays

Fixer Xiang engaged in a war with the rest of south section 3. We are still recovering in the hospital

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

My apologies everyone for constant delays

Fixer Xiang engaged in a war with the rest of south section 3. We are still recovering in the hospital

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

// Hello people go follow this

//This is an ask/story blog for my OC, Orpheus. They're the manager of the second bus in this timeline. Instead of a clock, they have a radio for a head. They're less confused about things than Dante was at this point, and there's a reason for that. I'll be revealing the story bit by bit, but asks can help me fill in the gaps.

//One of their biggest challenges is dealing with a much rougher and more prejudiced group of Sinners. 1/4 of them are from the Outskirts, and a few more are from less enlightened Districts. Considering the source material, I would have felt remiss of I didn't include issues of race and gender, despite the fact that aside from class-based prejudice, bigotry is barely a thing in the City.

//Their other biggest issue at this point is figuring out what happened to the previous bus and crew. That's more of a long term thing because as right now, they're on their first Canto.

//Feel free to ask about anything, especially the Sinners, the differences in this mirror world, Orpheus themself, or whatever else you want. My ask box is completely empty.

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

@der-musketmainn I was provided this image with your likeness. May I inquire your opinion

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

havent posted here in a while

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

Meow

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

OOC: We eating good tonight

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

I possess no information to perform

My apologies everyone

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

OOC: Justitia Jianfeng

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

We can see

Sounds

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

OOC: Small piece of writing: 'And so the breathless mirror rested'

Tapping. That well remembered, repeating sound that often starts a conversation with the ground. What a plentiful action, far more diverse than a breath. Far more needed than a breath, it possesses far more of a purpose than a breath. That simple waste of potential words. That sound was the second common sound the shi director had in his mind. The first was more of a combination of two. First was the loss of breath, that unimportant declaration of death. The second was the shock of a crowd that befalls a body as plummets to the ground. Those louder, deafening gasps as mother and children have their eyes forcefully split further at the sight.

The second was a grating experience at first. Children and mothers often tugged the child’s heart with their incessant cries and moans as they glared at the body, a lover, brothers and other forms of family relations also performed such similar actions to his slow beating heart.

But, now those breaths hold no meaning, they are but wastes. Simple shock and awe at a job our beloved city attempts to flatter with meaning, wasting breath for another body for the sweepers to trail.

The director grasps a nearby railing: A rough and unnatural feeling is all that greeted him. Just as always, only barely cleaner than the decrepit floor his shoes stood upon. A small, exhausted breath emerged soon after, like a delayed melody that ruptured a whole, prim, and proper performance. What a waste, what a waste indeed.

And so, his hand gently moved across the railing, like the hand of a lover trailing their dear’s arm. A loving, useless tension that held his unneeded desire to crave back even more. To crave her and that other to be in precise. Oh what a pleasant, harmful feeling that enveloped.

That lady, her long, brown hair had staked itself into the director’s mind, a pleasant, fuzzy, and warm feeling to be precise, enough to ignite the most damp of flames. To give even the most unneeded, exhaustive breaths some form of recovery. What a pleasant, unique feeling.

It clung to the fixer’s heart tightly, just as his dear departed once did, just as her pleasant, beautiful smile once did. That always stole a breath from him. The affirmative exhaustion that always followed her followed her with brown hair. Greatly so.

He grasps his own heart, a pleasant yet unnerving feeling; that beaming, heterochromatic eyes of the madam was that reasoning. That or the exhaustion that had affected the director greatly, having caught up to the unneeded, breath-wasting shadow.

That grip on the railing trembles, his arms vibrating as though they too communicated with the railing just as his foot did the ground. His body slowly dropped itself into the ground’s dirty, decrepit existence. It was exhaustion, that it was now clear to the director.

And so, he took a small glance at that abyssal dark of the city. His breath emerged once again. This time it held purpose, even if it was a simple, dull one. An improper blade instead forged in a spoken manner rather than with steel.

It was to rest. The director needed rest. And so the breathless mirror rested.

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

PUNCH NAZIS.

this is not a question, this is not a debate,

This. Is. A. Need.

I will not apologize for being OOC.

I will not apologize for being queer.

I will not apologize.

This is important.

[jianfeng-liu-ss3-director]

That’s not very nice to do. >:3