murokhan

[murokhan]

So um.... How about that Tumblr life right now?

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #19 - Turn a Blind Eye

M'ursa: "You cannot be serious!"

Jophan: "Yes, I am, and would you quiet down?"

M'ursa: "How can I possibly quiet down, Jophan? I had spent years hating them for what they'd done to Ala Mhigo, fighting them at every skirmish I could and killing them when the chance came. I've watched as my mother broke down to tears when she saw them beat my brother to death because 'his savage tail brushed their impeccable armour.' I was almost forcibly wedded to one of those triclops assholes because his commanding officer thought he made me pregnant. 

And now, I'm being asked to sweep all those feelings I have and forgive everything I've endured because their Emperor is dead. And I need to feel bad because their city is destroyed. They're too Gods damned lazy to rebuild or something? The citizens of Doma did it; why can't they?"

Jophan: "It might have been because of some outside help."

M'ursa: "And that 'outside help' can't help them?"

Jophan: "Ursa, I'm not telling you to forget the past. No one can turn a blind eye to what the Garleans did to us, never mind what they did in Zadnor or any of the other provinces. The fact of the matter is that the remnants of who is left of Garlemald are in dire straits. So the Grand Company of Eorzea has asked us all to try and make amends with whoever is left so that they can rebuild and start over."

M'ursa: "So then someone can rise in the ranks of their social hierarchy, call themselves the second coming of the Emperor, and we start this all over again in fifty years."

Jophan: "I doubt that will actually happen-"

M'ursa: "Jophan, I love you, but sometimes I wonder if you get enough oxygen being as tall as you are or if those length ears can even hear as well as they should."

Jophan: "There's no need for that."

M'ursa: "No, just a need for me to help out the same people who wanted us all killed."

Jophan: "... Get over here."

M'ursa: "I'm not hugging you-"

Jophan: "Get over here."

M'ursa: "Fine..."

Jophan: "Now, listen to me. You don't have to like this. But, Hells, I'm sure some Garleans don't like this situation more than we do. Such a proud race of people now need to ask us, savages, for help must be galling."

M'ursa: "Hm hm... They deserve it."

Jophan: "That may be so, and we have the unique advantage of making their lives worse for what they've done to all those they subjugated, but we shouldn't. Just think of all the propaganda they had to hear about us, how much we didn't deserve our freedom. Every day being told that we Eorzeans are nothing but uncultured savages who blindly follow Gods to make our lives have meaning. Instead, we should be under the Empire's yolk, giving us direction and purpose. We might as well be no better than beast tribes."

M'ursa: "Okay, I get that, but what about the ones that attacked my brother. Why should I care about them?"

Jophan: "You don't need to. Forget about the soldiers if you need to, and think about the children, the mothers, and the elderly. They have no place to go right now. They're scared and looking for answers, which we Eorzeans have. So we need to show empathy to our enemies, to show them that we were never that bad after all. Then they show us that not all Garleans are ignorant xenophobes."

M'ursa: ". . . And if they can't?"

Jophan: "That's up to them and our leaders to decide. Individually we shouldn't decide to be their judge and jury; Halone knows my people were bad for that. But I'm sure we'll finally be able to co-exist once the dust settles and the realization that this is the new normal hits them."

M'ursa: "We'll see, I guess..."

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrites Prompt #12 - Missing the Boat

"No, please wait!" came the frantic cries of Lilian as she ran down West Hawker's Alley in Limsa Lominsa. She had seen the vessel dock at the port from all the way atop the Aft Castle. She didn't realize what time it had become, and knowing she couldn't take an aetheryte to get there quicker, she resorted to running. She felt her calves burn from the haste, the sweat drenching the back of her Uraeus Coat from the exertion and the pain in her shoulders from carrying such a heavy load.

Alas, it didn't matter. She could not have run any faster to have made it at the appointed hour. She watched from the pier as her ship to Sharalayan began to reach open waters.

"Gods forsake my need for the drink!" Lilian shouted out, kicking a cord of rope into the waters below. Then, she trotted her way back to the gates. First, however, she placed her crate near the wall of the pier's entrance and sat down on top of it, using the wall to support her poor back and her head as she sighed heavily at her misfortune.

"It will be another day or two before I can get another ship to take me to Sharlayan. So what in Hells am I going to do with all of this?"

"All of what, I wonder."

Lilian would have been shocked to hear the sudden Lalafellin answer her own question. Still, she was far more tired than she initially realized. So instead, she slowly sat up straight, adjusted her leggings and coat, and looked around to see the source of the voice. It was a small Lalafell woman, shorter by most Plainsfolk standards, wearing a coat and leggings of her own, with her light pink hair covered in a tricorn hat. Lilian was a little suspicious of the tinier woman. She could have been a pint-sized pirate, she thought.

"Well... I was on my way to Sharlayan to see if I could sell my latest sets of jewellery to the socialites on the Island. I would sell them for twenty percent of the market rate there. If that didn't work, search the market to see what others are selling and go five percent less than that and just turn a near-even profit."

The Lalafell listened to Lilian carefully, then eyed the crate several times. "Can I see an example of your wares?" she asked.

Lilian once more felt caution was needed for this person but knew that showing her a sample of her work wouldn't be of any harm. So she stood up from her crate seat and began rummaging from a small satchel hidden underneath her coat. The process took her a couple of minutes, but when her hand finally felt something metallic, her mouth widened to a grin and brought forth the fruits of her labour.

The sample in question was of decent quality. It was a necklace made of a metal comprised of the bluish metal, Mythril. The necklace's chain looked interwoven instead of the traditional chain links commonly used with necklaces or pendants. The chains connect to the embellishment, which appears like snakes circling around a teardrop-shaped emerald in the centre. The Lalafell woman examined it carefully, inspecting the emerald at the embellishment, before looking back to Lilian.

"And you were taking this to Sharlayan?" she asked.

"Well... yes. I thought the novelty of it being an Eorzean design would have those stiffs paying their Gil by the barrel full."

But the smaller woman only clicked her teeth several times, shaking her head.

"Sharlayan people have been cooped up in their books and studies and whatever for who knows how long. They enjoy practicality in their written works, clothes, and food. Have you ever even had Archon Loaf?"

"Erm... well, no, but-"

"This design is unique but over-complicated for a Sharlayan palate. And using Mythril instead of gold would be a complete turn-off for their type."

Lilian puffed her cheeks. She was becoming more insulted by the minute. "What do you propose then."

"A proposition, yes," she smiled, looking at the crate. "I bet we could make you rich beyond your dreams with enough honeyed words to entice even the most careful a spender. We just need to start selling in Uld'ah."

Lilian folded her arms. "And what do you get out of this?"

"A cut of the initial sales, and you to later be welcomed into a consortium I want to establish to rival that of even the East Aldenard Trading Company. And I think, with your help, I could begin to take off. What do you say?"

Lilian still looked at her with some measure of distrust. To tackle the East Aldenard Trading Company almost seemed like a fool's errand. But the chance to have someone sell her wares was also a very nice prospect. Of course, it meant losing some profit, but she knew she could easily make that back up by other means. After some serious thought, Lilian smiled and reached out her hand. There was no way she was missing this particular boat.

"May this be the start of a beautiful friendship!"

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #7 - Pawn

The sounds of her heels hitting stone stairs were the only things she could hear as she made her ascent up the tower. Ceres clutched her rapier tight as she wanted to be prepared for this confrontation. Still, something at the back of her mind ebbed a little sense of uncertainty in her. She knew she wasn't going to war against a powerful evil that threatened the land. It was her best friend.

Aldin closed his eyes when he heard the footsteps come closer. With the light clacking of heels against stone, the Xaela only knew one person who decided such footwear was necessary, even on the battlefield. And knowing that such gear did little to hinder the miqo'te's expertise.

"I knew you'd come," Aldin said, his back still turned from her, overlooking the alpine mountain scenery before him. "I had hoped this would never have happened, but I guess you chose this fate for us.

"I can only think of so many others that could stop me, to either put me in my place or have the resolve to kill me when they knew there was no other option. If I fail here, I fail in my mission."

"And there it is again, that damnable mission you keep going about." Aldin finally turned to face her, his hands to his sides. "You've not told a single person this mission. And now I've found out you're the one that disrupted all opportunities whenever we have tried to garner peace within the tribes."

"It's all for the greater good, I promise you."

"There is nothing great about it, Ceres!" Aldin cried out. "Why are you doing this?!"

"I'm sorry... I can't say..."

Aldin could only look at the face of his lost friend. He saw in her eyes that this wasn't a bout of madness or a sudden shift to an ulterior evil motive. On the contrary, she had a just cause for her actions, which pained him dearly. A singular tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled his katana from its sheathe and felt the heat of its aspected fire aether burn magically against the blade.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Aldin said softly, his fiery katana held firmly in his hand. "We can still work together to fix everything. We still have so much time, don't you see? It's not too late, Ceres."

The red mage shuttered softly at his words, but she did not once ease the grip on her rapier. Instead, she took it from its sheathe with her right hand and began focusing her aether into the crystal on her left. The crystal hummed to life as it hovered around her, in tune with her movements. The tip of her blade was pointed in his direction, unshaken, poised and focused on striking. Her nature of a fighter was ready, yet her face had a look of dolefulness on it. Her body was ready; her soul was second-guessing.

Aldin closed his eyes. "So be it."

The samurai dashed forward to meet the steel of the red mage, a trail of embers following his incredible speed. The reverberation of the sound alone pulsed throughout the open air as the two former friends locked eyes with one another, Aldin gauging Ceres one last time to no avail.

Ceres followed through with the next attack as she backflipped a few yalms away, bringing her focus crystal to cast two Verthunders. Aldin saw the telegraph of the cast, avoiding the first jolt effortlessly and narrowly missing the second – he had forgotten just how much power those crystals contained. Ceres followed up the spell casts by jumping forward, slashing away with her rapier with the Redoublement technique, utilizing the sword's swiftness for multiple thrusts.

Aldin parried each thrust and, without delay, gathered some aether within himself and unleashed a couple of strikes against Ceres. The smaller framed miqo'te felt the heat burning off the blade with each parry, her balance almost off while contending to the strikes of the au ra fighter. She stumbled backward to regain her footing, but it offered Aldin enough time to place his gathered aether into his blade and shoot a well-timed Enpi. It struck her hard and caused her to be pushed back another few yalms away.

Ceres cursed herself for having been opened to such a hit and cursed herself forward for letting it come to this. She knew he could defeat her easily if he wanted. He had the skill and the power to do so. However, she had a plan, and she hated every second that the idea came to be within her mind and how it played out. It was for the greater good, she reminded herself.

Another chance to cast, her focus charged and primed, she let out a Veraero. The torrential wind rocked Aldin, but he could withstand its biting blast. After the spell was cast, Ceres dashed toward him as if preparing to strike. Aldin was ready and held his guard up, formulating his own counter to finish this battle swiftly. However, as he was prepared for a slash, he was greeted with a magically created stone to the chest. Verstone. She had kept the stored power and cast her spell at a short distance. The blow caused him to stumble backward this time. His guard was gone, his chest was exposed, and Ceres used this moment to thrust her sword.

Internally she had hoped he would deflect that attack as well. But, instead, it met its mark on his heart. Aldin felt the sudden sting in his breast and saw the shocked expression on her face. But, of course, she didn't expect this outcome either, and he knew what would come next. He looked at her face a moment, then took one last breath.

"I hope this is worth it," he said before walking backward, the blade effortlessly sliding out and finally collapsing to the ground. The fire on his blade faded out beside him.

Ceres, too, dropped her sword, falling to her knees as she openly wept for the man she once called a comrade. Her sobs echoed from the tower. In place of rain, snow began to fall over the area due to the cooler climate, each snowflake caressing her heated face. She wished to die with him or to know a means to convince him of her chosen path. She knew it wouldn't ever be that way to have an ally to walk down this road with her. He would stop her by any means or die trying.

She felt a disruption of the wind coming from behind her. Ceres knew what it was. She didn't need to look. A portal of dark purple emerged, and from its center, a man wearing a black robe and black mask approached her, regarding her as one would a faithful pet. His head turned to her, then to Aldin.

"Then you are wholly committed?" he asked. "Very well, my dear. You will see that I am right and that where we go from here will be for the greater good of this star. We have much to prepare for now. You need only to follow my lead and the will of my masters."

Ceres nodded as she got to her feet. She was too numb now to understand her folly or to reconsider her place in this plan of his. Her path was before her now, and this robed man was the only one who could lead her through it.

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #6 - Onerous

The near-empty training hall was still alive with the energy and sounds of a combatant training as hard as her body would allow it. Styrgeim unleashed unholy barrages onto the unsuspecting training dummy. Despite her smaller stature and slimmer physique, she still housed a strength comparable to a male double her size. Each crash of her fist produced splinters that jumped right off the wooden object and deep indentations.

After a half-hour of incessant attacks, it was time to finish the session with a flourish. Styrgeim jumped back and clenched her fists, breathing in slowly to allow the ambient Aether to surround her and empower her. A gentle bluish hue surrounded her body. She could feel each cell within her begin to heat up to a warming sensation, warmer than she felt during training.

As soon as she felt ready, Styrgeim's burst forth toward the training dummy. An impressive flurry of strikes accompanied her movements. A roundhouse kick transitioning to a spinning back kick; a rising knee strike into double axe handles. Then a jab into a backhanded fist, into another jab, followed by a mid-torso kick. Finally, ending with the classic combination of a Bootshine kick, followed by a True Strike and Snap Punch, ending with a Six-Sided Star kick.

As her last foot connected with the dummy, she regained foot and took a moment to catch her breath. She could feel the aura that surrounded her subsiding, sweat pouring from her forehead and down her neck, the fabric of her Skyworker's singlet catching most of the moisture. She panted softly, holding on to her inanimate training partner for leverage until she could steady herself easier. This was her second training session that day, and she had yet to break for lunch.

Styrgeim closed her eyes, placing her forehead on the training dummy. She was tired physically, her body burning from the strain of constantly working itself harder and harder after every sparring bout. Still, there was more to it than the fatigue which exhausted her.

Remember, you are under contract with me, girl. You enjoy your freedom because of me. You owe your impressive gifts in the Colosseum to me and my ever-so-benevolent nature. The same one that keeps you and your mother off the streets. Now, be my perfect little star gem, and keep fighting.

She hated listening to that conniving Lalafel she had to call a manager. She hated being reminded that everything she had and could provide for her ailing mother rested in the hands of a benefactor. A benefactor who only cared about selling tickets and winning matches, not his star's well-being. Who could beat Styrgeim, the Heavenly Fist? The only way to find out is to pay 500 Gil a piece and enjoy the show!

Except she hated being the star of this performance. She hated the pain and near-sadistic streaks her opponents would get in the arena. She wouldn't dare give all she had in her fights, not when her mother's health and happiness came first, but at times she felt she had to quit. Yet the contract was clear that escaping from her responsibilities was a terrible idea, and contracts in Uld'ah were far more powerful than any Primal. So she made sure she kept enough money to start saving for her freedom. Having done so for over a year, her personal Gil purse was feeling heavier and heavier by the week.

Styrgeim walked to the corner of the training hall to pick up a damp cloth to dab at her face, then over to the table, which held a large waterskin flask. She took a long drink of the water inside the pouch when the door opened. She knew who was there and what it meant. Show time in two hours. She sighed but pushed away the present and took stock of the future. It wouldn't be long now. She just needed to hold on a little longer.

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #5 - Cutting Corners

N'agami was nervous as he watched the trial unfold before him. Never once in the young Tia's life had his heart pounded as much as it had. Not since leaving his tribe in search of a higher calling, leading him from the deserts of Thanalan to the seashore of La Noscea and the port of Limsa Lominsa. And yet today marked his first true test to show that his training and dedication were paying off. Finally, finally, he was ready to be a chef.

Lyngsath Hyllbornsyn was the one to oversee the final dish in his challenge: Battered Fish. He was the Culinary Guild Headmaster and head chef of The Bismarck, so he was more than capable of judging the dishes made by the fiery red Miqo'te.  Yet despite his confidence in his work, N'agami could only hear uncertainty from his master.

The Dalamud red miqo'te watched every moment of the examination carefully, his coeurl-like eyes never leaving the frame of the hefty-looking Roegadyn. He watched as Lyngsath poked at the first, caressed it with his fork, and took a careful piece of it. He then examined the piece with an artisan's eye, consumed it whole in one bite, and then looked back at the fish with even more consideration.

"W-well-" N'agami was cut off with just a finger. Clearly, there was still much to be considered about this dish, and the youthful cook hadn't the foggiest idea why.

"Come 'ere."

N'agami nodded and approached the dish. Lyngsath handed him another fork and eyed him carefully.

"Won't ye take a bite o' yer 'andy work?"

The chef-in-training looked perplexed but did as he was told. Taking a large portion of the fish and a couple of the popoto fries before placing it all in his mouth and giving it an enthusiastic chew. It tasted all right to him, from what he could tell. He used enough salt and pepper to season the fries. An overall enjoyable meal, from what he could tell.

"Ye do a good job?" Lyngsath asked.

"It's really good! Probably the best thing I've made yet!"

"Except it ain't."

N'agami gasped. "How you mean? What did I do wrong, chef?"

"It's th' 'ole presentation," Lyngsath said, bringing up the plate. "Yer fish is done good, an' yer fries 'as some crisp to it, but tha's it. It's bland, boy."

The miqo'te furrowed his brows. "But I followed the recipe to the letter."

"But yer salt ain't fresh, an' if I can taste it, yer customers can taste it. Ye got all of yer ingredients from th' market board, didn't ye?"

"What's the big deal? I didn't have time to prepare everything, so I bought everything from the market board. But, I still made it all myself. You even said the fish was done properly."

"Aye, it was, but it's more than just makin' sure yer meats at temperature, an' it ain't bleedin' on th' customer's plate." Lyngsath walked up to N'agami with a raised hand. The young lad thought he would get slapped upside the head, but instead, the larger gentleman put his huge hand on his shoulder.

"Cookin' is more than fillin' th' belly. It's makin' a person feel 'ole. Ye ain't jus' feedin' th' lad that just comes off th' boat after a day of piratin'. Yer cookin' for the ones who just came back from adventurin' and lookin' to rest their feet for a spell. Yer cookin' for the newlyweds that want to take in a gorgeous sunset over La Noscean waters. Yer cookin' for th' ones that lost someone dear to 'em and are lookin' for somethin' to sate their appetite. Ye think that lot deserves food ye cobble together from a book, or a meal ye prepared yerself, carefully crafted wit' ingredients ye made yerself."

N'agami lowered his head and softly said, "I'm sorry."

"Ye got nothin' to be sorry for, 'cept wastin' a good 'addock. Remember not to cut corners on yer ingredients, an' yer food will always stand out. Now, 'ow about ye show me another battered fish, but this time ye make everythin' in th' kitchen."

N'agami looked back up to the chef and nodded. "Yes, sir," he said and sprinted away to the aetheryte to make his way to the Fisherman's guild for some fresh haddock. Lyngsath smirked and shook his head before returning his focus back to the kitchen. Though he was instructing the next Chef of Light, he still had a restaurant to run.

[murokhan]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #1 - Cross

Garlemald had always been a frigid climate. The endless winter, no escape from the biting frost save for the ceruleum heaters situated in each home. And yet there was something more chilling about returning to the Empire's seat.

It was the deathly silence. With the assistance of the Eorzean Grand Company, the hostilities surrounding the decaying capital were diminishing by the day. The tempered Garleans were either captured for recovery or slain in the presence of self-preservation, and the frenzied Machina were dealt with deft swiftness to avoid any additional casualties. In the absence of fighting, there was only quiet.

He had come home after hearing the rumours from abroad that Garlemald was reduced to rubble and that Emperor Varis had been long since deceased. It was unfathomable to him and his deployed unit. Yet, without other outstanding orders to fall back on, Sergeant Juliani gave the command to return home and perceive this deception for themselves.

They had wished it was a deception.

As they arrived at Laterum – no, Camp Broken Glass, a name given to the dead checkpoint station by the Eorzeans. Nevertheless, the returning deployment was greeted by friends, loved ones, and the enemy in equal measure, a sight that befuddled all of the soldiers, including Juliani.

Of all those he had thought to hear the news of Garlemanld's fate from, he had never expected it to come from Maxima quo Priscus of all people, and even from his own lips did the reality of the situation fail to truly connect to Juliani. No, he had to see the city for himself or whatever was supposedly left.

Juliani excused himself from his countrymen during lunch and headed north toward the capital. There came the silence, broken only so subtly by the wintry winds he had always remembered feeling as a child. He walked past the old railway terminal, seeing the ceruluem pipelines leading from the refineries and the broken-down magitek that littered the frozen wasteland. Further onward, he would be met with a cruel vision, a gruesome twist of fate that caused knots in his stomach and a burning in his eyes. He saw the husk that was once his home.

He now stumbled around the ruins of Garlemald, looking for landmarks he could remember before his deployment, trying to recognize his home as he remembered it. His mind, given his best efforts, could not marry the memories of what his home city was with what it became. It had become as foreign to him as any place he had visited in his time in Eorzea. Although something had caught his attention, and a small spark flared in his heart.

It was the playground in Forum Solius. It had somehow remained mostly intact of all the destruction and degradation in Garlemald. Juliani couldn't help but smile, seeing a place where he had spent most of his childhood still standing, even in the face of death. There was no reassurance of a better day with this discovery, just a silver lining in a bleak storm.

Being there alone with his thoughts and the cold and despair, he began to think about all his friends with whom he had shared wonderful memories within this park. Friends that had come and gone with time or had died in battle against those they had long considered savages. They were good memories, and where ever they were now, he knew they deserved better than what they had gotten. He knew they had to be remembered.

Juliani walked around Forum Solius for perhaps twenty minutes, collecting lumber and debris in the once beautiful park. Then, in front of the slide, where most of his treasured memories were situated, Juliani fashioned four crosses and stuck them into the ground. Four crosses for four lost friends. When the work was done, he took a few steps backward, gazed at his handiwork, and gave the crosses an Imperial salute.

He felt his heart burn more than his eyes did. Everything about this was wrong, a waking nightmare he had no idea how to wake from. He felt compelled to go home, to see if there was anything he could salvage. A moment he could take with him to be reminded of better times, but his mind knew to tell him better. To go home, when he saw the rest of Garlemald as it was, would be a terrible mistake. It would crush him. Instead, after finishing his salute, he returned to Camp Broken Glass and his unit. There was much work to do from here on out. He would need to be with his people, not to reminisce about the past, but to construct a new future.

[murokhan]

It’s been a long time....   Guess I should start being more productive about things.

[murokhan]

HEY TUMBLR WHAT’S WITH THIS HMMM

[murokhan]

And while we’re talking about it, let’s consider how COVID has been affecting those in the fast food  industry.  There’s the constant threat of that one customer having the virus.  There’s the expectation of the owner having them run the shop with less people while experiencing volumes that require more on shift, and the owners wont budge because of “unexpectedly good days”.  There’s the pressure of trying to get everything prepared for the next shift while dealing with incredibly busy periods.  There’s the customers who get irate because things are taking longer than THEY think it should

Full time work should entitle someone to enough pay for rent, food, bills, and leisure activities. Full time work for a full life wage. You put in your 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? You should be able to afford the basic shit you need in life, no matter where you work.

[murokhan]

Real talk, what if the female squirrel was  Guinevere?

Arthur and Hazel.

Added Information

Works from Sword Training to Bottom Commissioned by Touristism from the artist Animoose

[murokhan]

It’s one of the good ways to get your first draft into creation.   Then afterward, when you look over it, you can either rewrite it, or polish it even further with a few tweeks.

do you ever write the same scene like 100x times and then need to go find the oold ones to frankenstein a new draft without writing the scene for 101st time? no? just me?

[murokhan]

Can we also make a shoutout to the person who creates theses images that Alphinaud draws/paints?

Okay, did anyone else see what Alphinaud’s finished painting looks like after the MSQ? He legit scrapped the other painting and drew a /beautiful/ portrait of Dulia. He didn’t slim her down, he didn’t paint her stiffly like in the first painting, instead he captured the spirit of warmth that defines her character. Her beauty proudly presented for all in the cafe to see.

We don’t deserve Dulia-Chai, but she definitely deserves this loving rendition.

[murokhan]

I don’t need that energy, I need that money!

Reblog if you need this energy

[murokhan]

Takahashi:  Nan-ni shimasho-ka? Deathclaw: Oh you know, the usual.

Don’t forget to stop by Power Noodles! better hurry, because they might all be gone by the time you get there - someone’s mighty hungry!  An idea I’ve wanted to illustrate ever since I started playing Fallout4 and drawing deathclaws.

[murokhan]

[murokhan]

Reblogging to spread asshole awareness.

Seriously, this shit is unacceptable. I feel like my personal space has been violated.

I was doing my frikkin’ Atma Book hunts when Adair Hawke messaged me. He seemed friendly and chatty at first, and I wasn’t against some non-sexual roleplay, except I was busy at the moment. The more he talked, the more I felt the only thing he was interested in was ERP, so I told him point blank that Sahja doesn’t ICly sleep around.

Then he got CREEPY, talking about my RL boyfriend? And called him pathetic? Excuse me?!

I have no idea who this guy is, or who he thought I was. But I was bothered enough to raid all of my social Linkshells to ask if anyone knew him. My linkshell #6 gave me an answer I really didn’t want to hear… and my linkshell #1 only made the pit in my stomach grow even bigger at the mention of him being a sexual predator. Because… It’s true.

I can’t encourage people enough to blacklist this person. If someone says “No” that should be the end of it. Going into stalker-esque lengths to make them feel UNSAFE is something I will not tolerate.